Page 169 of The Storm

I stop him with a hand on his arm. “We’ve all made an ass out of ourselves at some point while trying to hit on somebody, I promise.”

“I was kind of hoping I was the exception.”

“Look at it this way—you’ve made an ass out of yourself once. Next time will be easier.”

“Yeah. Let’s pretend I’ve only done it once. Sure.”

I grin at the bashful look on his face. He really is cute, and I couldn’t care less. Instead, I find my eyes wandering the room, my heart beating louder and louder while I search, and by the time my gaze finally lands on him my heart is in my throat, hammering in a decidedly not-just-friendly way.

“Indy?”

I jerk and look back at Julian.

I blink and try to figure out if I have any memory of what he just said. There’s nothing.

“Sorry.” I shake my head. “I spaced out on you for a second.”

He glances at where Nick is standing and sends me a knowing look.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks. “I’ve been told I’m a decent enough listener.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to start.” I look down and try to find the right words to explain without saying anything too revealing. “We have a lot of history. Some of it is the best thing that ever happened to me. A lot of it is the worst.” I blow out a breath. “It’s complicated, and it doesn’t matter anyway. Whatever we had, he’s done with it. Has been for a long time.”

Julian quirks his brow at me. “You sure? Because that dude looks like he’s contemplating murder every time he looks my way.”

My head whips around.

“Subtle,” Julian says dryly.

“He’s not even looking at you,” I say. Nick is standing across the room, talking to some of Callum’s teammates, his attention firmly on them.

Julian gives me a sidelong glance. “Is that disappointment?”

“You’re kind of evil.”

He looks genuinely proud of himself.

“He was looking at you,” he says after a bit. “Kind of like he wanted to eat you. After throttling me first, obviously. I assume at least some murder was on the agenda.” He squints thoughtfully at the other end of the room. “He’s kind of intense, isn’t he?”

I let out a snort of laughter. “You could say that, yeah.”

“Which begs the questions: Why are you wasting your time here with me, pretending to listen to me ramble about the cello when you could go and have all that intensity directed at you from a much closer distance?”

I fidget with the sleeve of my tux and avoid looking at him.

“We’re friends,” I mutter.

“Mm-hmm. Sure,” he gives me a look that clearly calls me on my bullshit. “I have to get ready to go on stage.”

I nod absently. “Break a leg.”

I try to take a subtle look at Nick, but by the time I’ve finally turned my head just so, he’s not there anymore. I refuse to think about how that makes me feel and why it’s disappointing. Instead, I throw myself into work again.

For the next few hours, I run around making sure everything happens smoothly. I deal with entitled guests demanding special treatment and solve one ridiculous problem after another.

It’s almost midnight when I run into Callum. The party has gone from a somewhat classy charity event to a frat party. I saw the half-melted ice sculpture floating in the koi pond earlier.

“Indy!” Callum shouts in a booming voice that echoes off every wall. He snatches my phone out of my hand.