“Phew.” He took a swig of his lager and looked toward the bar. “I’ll never get laid with that thing on show.”
“Charming,” I murmured.
He grinned cheekily at me and nodded toward a group of women standing at the bar. “Duty calls.”
He sauntered casually across the room and came to a stop beside a girl standing with her friends. The friends shimmied to the side as Nate and the girl began flirting their asses off. The girl was gorgeous, of course—beautiful features, long dark hair, creamy skin, extremely curvy. Probably a little overweight, like me, but unlike me, she carried it well. I had to say that about Nate. He didn’t really have a type—he didn’t care if the girl was skinny, plump, busty, or athletic. As long as she was cute and a woman, he was attracted to her.
As soon as Nate smiled at the brunette she was a goner.
I wasn’t surprised in the least. At five foot eleven, Nate wasn’t exceptionally tall, but with his combination of a trim physique honed by martial arts, a gorgeous face, and the kind of charisma you just couldn’t buy, most women wouldn’t give a rat’s ass if they towered over him in heels if it meant being on his arm for the night.
Not me, though. Nate would never see me in a sexual way, so there was no point in even allowing my thoughts to go there. I think I knew more about the real Nate than most people did, so it wasn’t hard to put him in the friend zone. I could switch off whatever attraction I had to him because I knew it would never go anywhere. I’d rather have Nate in my life as a friend than not have him there at all. For all of his commitment issues and the unashamedly playboy mentality toward women, he was a really good guy underneath it all, and a really good friend.
“Well, she’s a goner,” Joss commented softly.
Turning toward her, I raised an eyebrow when I saw her smirking at Nate and the girl. “He never makes them any promises.”
She laughed. “No need to defend him. I know Nate always makes himself clear, but we’re talking girls here. Sometimes they just hear what they want to hear.”
“Yeah, but Nate’s got this down to an art. It’s like a sixth sense or something. As soon as he feels even a slight change in their attitude toward him, he’s out of there.”
“I can’t wait for someone to knock him on his arse.” Ellie joined in, smiling wickedly in Nate’s direction.
“Me neither.” Jo flicked a pointed glance up at me before looking away, and I pretended I was too stupid to understand her meaning.
I changed the subject quickly. “Did you guys see Cam’s new tattoo? Cole designed it,” I told them proudly.
Cole Walker was the best kid ever. Jo had done an amazing job raising him and the best thing that had ever happened to the both of them, other than each other, was Cameron MacCabe. He and Cole were incredibly similar— both artists, both cool nerds— and Cam had commissioned Cole to design a new tattoo for him.
It was awesome.
A stylized “C” and “J” were hidden in the jagged vines and sharpened curlicues of Cole’s tribal design.
“Ooh, let’s see,” Ellie begged with a grin.
Cam shook his head. “It’s on my ribs.”
“Oh, come on, it’s not like we’re going to pass out at the sight of your abs,” Joss teased.
“They’re good abs.” Jo patted Cam’s stomach proudly.
Braden took a sip of his whisky. “Personally, I don’t want to see his abs. They might . . . provoke my envy.”
Adam nodded in deadpan agreement. “Mine too.”
“Fuck off,” Cam muttered, his lips curled up in amusement.
“Oh, if he’s going to be such a spoilsport . . . ,” I grumbled, digging through my handbag. Feeling the paper between my fingers, I tugged and pulled it out, unfolding it to hold up the signed drawing of Cole’s design. “Here, this is the tat.”
As the others looked at it, Jo smiled up at me. “You’re keeping that?”
“Sure, and I got Cole to sign it too.”
She laughed. “You’re only going to make his crush on you worse.”
I shrugged, not caring. “He deserves to know how awesome he is.”
“No arguments there.”
We smiled at each other as the others complimented Cole’s talent.
Nate soon returned to the group, and the brunette returned to her friends but kept her eyes on Nate.
“Are you not . . . ?” I asked curiously, pointedly looking in the woman’s direction.
“Oh, aye,” he grinned boyishly. “But I told her it was my mate’s birthday and I wanted to hang out with him for a while.”
True to his word, Nate stayed with us until closing. We were all getting ready to leave when his breath whispered across my ear. “I’m off.”
I turned around to stare at him, spying the curvy brunette in my peripheral vision. “Okay. Have fun.”
He winked at me and then kissed my cheek. “Always do.”
After saying good-bye to the group, Nate took the girl’s hand and departed the bar. Jealousy needled at me as I stared at the empty doorway. My friend was the master of seduction. If he wanted to get laid, he could.
Unfortunately, for some of us it wasn’t nearly so easy.
For more information about Samantha Young and her novels, visit www.ondublinstreet.com.
Castle Hill: A Joss and Braden Novella Page 10
