Twist of Fate Louise, Tia (read dune .txt) 📖

In the light-blue twilight, she seems to glow. She’s wearing a strapless yellow dress that flairs out at her waist. Her hair is in curls around her ears, and tonight, instead of glossy pink, her lips are deep red, full and kissable.

My cock stirs in my pants as I imagine them puckered around the tip of my dick. I don’t know where that mental image came from, but I like it a lot.

Right behind her is a guy dressed in a tan suit. He’s about my height, and his dark brown hair is cut short and smoothed back from his face. He puts his hand on her lower back like she belongs to him—and I don’t like that.

My brother signs the check then pauses, glancing from me to where my eyes are drawn like magnets to her.

He puts a hand on my shoulder. “Stay. It’s early.”

Swallowing the thickness in my throat, I grind my jaw. “I’d better go. I’m only here for two weeks.”

“What’s wrong with having a fun two weeks?”

Blinking up, I meet his eyes. He’s a year older than me, but sometimes it feels like we can read each other’s minds like twins. We’ve been this way since Mom died, since Dad only saw us as a gravy train he rode all the way to the bank.

“More like playing with fire.”

“You never get over the one that got away.”

“She didn’t get away. She was never mine.” My voice is quiet. “It was only one dance.”

“Even worse.”

He grins, shaking his head as he starts to go, but I’m right behind him. “Do you ever feel like you’re being pulled in two directions?”

“All the time.” Stopping at the exit, he catches my shoulder. “Night, bro.”

With that, he gives me a slight nudge away from him, back into the bar. “I came here for you.”

“You’ll have time for me.”

He’s gone, and I’m standing in the middle of the patio with the band playing to my left. Daisy looks up from the table, and her eyes flare when they meet mine. A flush of color fills her cheeks.

I figure I might as well make the most of this. Walking to the table where they sit, I slip a hand in the pocket of my jeans. I’m still wearing what I had on this afternoon at her aunt’s house.

“I didn’t expect to see you here.” Holding out a hand to her date, I smile. “Scout Dunne. Daisy and I went to high school together.”

“Senior year,” she quickly corrects me, seeming nervous. “It was just one year.”

The guy’s brow furrows, but he shakes my hand. “Spencer Carrollton. Charleston.”

He’s a dick. I can tell by the way he says his name, he’s more interested in himself than in her, and I’m curious why they’re even here together.

“Are you working in Oceanside?” Maybe he’s a developer.

“No.” He seems offended by the suggestion. “This young lady asked for my expert advice then completely ignored it. I’m only here for the night.”

Perfect.

“Then you won’t mind if I ask her to dance? This is our song, isn’t it?”

Daisy’s mouth drops open. The band is playing “Red, Red Wine,” which I happen to know she hates, but I want to talk to her. I want to know if she’ll say yes.

“Of course not.” Charleston waves us away. “I’ll order wine and this Love Boat combination platter.”

“Just no crunchy or creamy,” she says, and I cover her hand with mine, leading her to the small dance floor where two other couples are swaying side to side.

Daisy’s stiff as I put my hand on her waist, holding her other hand in mine. She doesn’t meet my eyes. Instead, she focuses on my shoulder, not smiling. She’s working so hard to pretend she’s uncomfortable, I can’t resist.

“Who’s the douche?”

Brown eyes snap to mine. “He’s not a douche. Spencer is the friend I told you about. I’m hoping he’ll get me a job at Antiques Today.”

Just what I needed to know. “He’s a douche, and you don’t need his help. You’ve always been smart enough to make your own way.”

The song is just slow enough that I can slide my hand a little further around her waist, moving her closer to my chest. Her small breasts rise and fall faster, brushing the hardness of my chest and filling my mind with dirty thoughts. I want to back her into the shadows and ruin that red lipstick.

“I appreciate your vote of confidence, but the doors don’t fall open for all of us.” She looks away at the table. “Some of us need a little help.”

“The only doors that have opened for me are the ones I’ve tried.” My tone is slightly sharp, and our eyes meet again.

She quickly blinks down again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t make assumptions.”

We sway in silence, and I can tell the song is ending. I don’t want to leave her this way.

“Forget about it.” I lighten my tone, giving her a smile.

A smile fidgets at the corners of her mouth, and she glances up at me sideways before looking away again quickly. I look over to the lead singer, wishing I could give him a signal to keep going. I’m running out of time.

“It’s been a long time since we danced together.”

She doesn’t look up, but her smile grows. “It was homecoming, first dance of the year.”

“And the last. I still can’t believe you didn’t go to prom with me. All high school romances end at the prom.”

Her nose curls. “We were not a high school romance.”

“We might’ve been. The high school quarterback, all-around hot guy who falls for the quiet, bookish future librarian. It’s the perfect setup for a movie.”

“All-around hot guy…” Her brown eyes roll adorably, and I’m glad the tension seems to have melted. “I’m not a future librarian.”

“I know.” I think about that night. “You did promise to have my back, though.”

“Until you broke the rules and kissed me.”

“It was a really good