Kelly Jamieson - Rule of Three

Dag rubbed the back of his neck and drained his beer. So much for his plan not to drink much tonight so he could drive.

“So what all did she buy today?” Chris asked, moving across the room to look at all the shopping bags.

Who fucking cared? But Dag made himself smile and look up. “All kinds of shit,” he said. “She dragged me to Bed and Bath.”

Chris lifted a brow. “She dragged you? She said you had nothing better to do.”

Heat crawled up Dag’s cheeks. He tried to look casual. “Whatever.”

“I hate that store,” Chris said, apparently not even noticing Dag’s discomfort. He peeked into a bag. “Huh. Towels. We’ve got a million towels. We both had towels.”

Dag shrugged. “I guess you needed more.”

“What are these? They look like flag poles.”

“They’re curtain rods, dipshit. Get with it.”

Chris glanced at him and they both laughed. Some of the hot tension eased out of Dag and he rose to his feet. “Where should I put this?” He held up the empty bottle loosely by the neck.

“I’ll take it.”

Chris disappeared into the kitchen, and Dag heard Kassidy’s steps. He turned. She walked in, cheeks pink, eyes sparkling but otherwise looking all put together and sleek. Her dark hair hung in a silky curtain to her shoulders and she wore a short purple dress that draped over her slender body. Hot.

She tugged at the hem of the dress and bit her lip. “Damn, this dress is short.”

“It looks great.”

Her eyes met his. Her eyelashes fluttered and her cheeks got even pinker. “Thanks.”

“Hey, you’re ready.” Chris walked back in. “You look awesome, sweets. I just called a taxi.”

Dag didn’t mention that he’d intended to drive. Now he’d have to somehow get back here tomorrow to get his car. Dammit.

“Did you see what I got today?” Kassidy asked Chris.

“Towels. Why’d we need towels?”

She frowned. “Yours are about a hundred years old, all frayed and thin.”

“Oh.” And Chris’s eyes met Dag’s in a masculine exchange of “whatever”. They grinned.

“Let’s go wait outside,” Chris said. Kassidy picked up a little purse and walked ahead of them on sandals that consisted of a spiky heel and a couple of thin straps across the top of her foot. More hotness. Hell.

They walked into Kiss through a nearly invisible entrance at the end of a narrow alleyway just off Oak Street. A long staircase descended into a room lit with low red lighting from pot lights, antique light fixtures dripping with gilt and crystal, and candles everywhere, filling the air with a warm beeswax fragrance that mingled with expensive perfumes. People crowded the dance floor, moving to the drum beat of the DJ’s mix of bhangra and hip-hop.

“Looks like we’re the first ones here,” Chris said. “Let’s find a spot.” He led the way through the bar to several black leather and faux-leopard-skin sofas arranged in a small group around a low table.

Dag took in the eclectic surroundings, liking the cosmopolitan vibe of the place. Yeah, dammit, there were things about Chicago he missed. He sat on one of the black leather sofas, and Kassidy and Chris took a seat across from him.

“There’s Hailey,” Kassidy said. Dag shifted his gaze across the room to the artfully lit bar, with rows and rows of bottles stacked against the wall behind it glowing in the red lights. He searched for which bartender might be Kassidy’s sister, finally picking out a slender dark-haired woman in a constant whirl of movement, pouring, spinning, reaching for glasses. Her short dark hair was a spiky cap on her head, but even from here he could see the resemblance to Kassidy in her build, her graceful movements and the shape of her face.

A waitress clad in a short skintight black dress approached to take their drink order and Dag smiled up at her. She returned the smile with a wink as they ordered. Dag handed over a credit card so they could run a tab.

“Oh yeah, that reminds me,” Chris said. “You left without paying your bar bill this afternoon. You owe me fifty bucks.”

Dag looked at Chris, saw the glint in his eye and laughed. “I figured you wouldn’t mind picking up the tab.”

“For you and my girlfriend sitting and drinking all afternoon without me? Not fucking likely, buddy.”

Then they both laughed and shook their heads.

“There’s Jeff and Sara,” Kassidy said, waving a hand. Their friends began to arrive. Dag stood to greet the people he hadn’t seen for so long, with handshakes and hugs and smiles and questions. Everyone was finding a seat and milling around the area when Kassidy’s sister approached them.

“Hey, Kass,” she said. Her gaze narrowed in on Dag and he arched a brow and returned her smile. Again, he could see a family resemblance in the shape of her mouth and eyes, but Hailey’s face was thinner, her chin a little sharper, her eyes harder. Her smile held a hint of tartness instead of Kassidy’s sweetness. A silver stud pierced her left eyebrow and a diamond glittered on the side of her nose. “You must be Dag.”

Kassidy moved to stand beside Hailey. “Yes, this is Dag. Dag Spencer, my sister Hailey Langdon.”

Hailey fastened her eyes on him and extended a hand, which he took. Interest heated her gaze. “Pleasure to meet you,” she said. “You’re not what I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“Mmm. Someone more like Chris, I guess.” Her smile deepened.

“What makes you think I’m not like Chris?”

She moved closer to him, into his personal space. “Just an impression I get.”

He laughed. “I’m guessing you’re not like Kassidy either.”

Her smile turned sly. “And what makes you think that?” She turned his words back to him.

“Just an impression I get.” He arched a brow.

Now she laughed with appreciation. “Yeah, Kassidy’s a good girl. Boring, but good.”

Boring? Whoa. That wasn’t a word he ever would have used to describe her, albeit he’d only known her a week. He flashed a glance Kassidy’s way and saw her mouth tighten. “And you’re not good?” he asked Hailey.

“I’m good at some things.” She set her hand on his forearm and leaned even closer into his personal space, so close he could smell the spicy scent of patchouli. Strangely, patchouli had always given him a headache and he felt the faint throb begin deep in his head. But he smiled at her because she was Kassidy’s sister. She slid her hand higher on his arm. “Very good. But…sometimes I’m a bad girl.” Her voice went throaty.

Jesus. Subtlety wasn’t part of her makeup.

“So, how long are you in Chicago, Dag?”

“I’m not sure.” Earlier in the week his plan had been to get the hell back to San Francisco, but now he had this great idea he wanted to explore and Kassidy was the perfect one to help him with some of it. Then he’d had to listen to them fucking on the other side of their bedroom door and once again his resolve had changed to getting away from them. Christ, he didn’t know what the hell he wanted, what he was doing. “Depends on business, I guess.”

“I could show you around town,” she said. “If you’re interested.”

“I might be.”

Then he caught sight of Kassidy’s face as she watched them flirting—and the crease in her brow and the tightness of her pretty mouth.

She should have known Hailey and Dag would hit it off. They seemed to be two of a kind—a bad boy and a self-professed bad girl, both of whom seemed to effortlessly attract attention from the opposite sex. Yeah, they would have a lot in common. Why that sent a shaft of pain slicing through her, she had no clue.

Kassidy tipped her mango martini to her lips and took a big gulp. Sweet coolness washed down her throat. She forced a smile. “Are you on a break, Hailey?”