No. Big. Deal.
Except when Shane looked at her, it felt like a big deal. The sound of the jukebox faded away, muffled by the beat of her heart in her ears, and the memory came again, unbidden. The drag of that mouth along her neck. The warm water lapping against her breasts. A full moon, fat in the sky, lighting his face. Clenched jaw, bodies rocking, Shane pulling away, with a whispered no.
“Yes!” Lacey smacked her hand on the table.
Cat jerked back, tearing her gaze from Shane’s to face her friend.
Lacey’s eyes were bright with excitement. “Awesome idea. Now that’s settled, let’s get another drink.” She leaned back with a satisfied smile and raised her hand to flag down the blonde cocktail waitress in a purple bustier. “Shane, beer for you?”
“Sure.” His voice was suspiciously husky and Cat wondered for a crazy instant if the whole mind-reading thing wasn’t so far-fetched, but he seemed to recover quickly, turning his attention to Lacey. “Whatever’s seasonal on tap is good.”
The waitress took the rest of their orders and then made her way to the bar. The others chatted amiably about Shane’s job and updated him on the latest family news and town gossip. Cat took the time to regroup, and when the waitress returned with the drinks, she was back on track. Shane was there. Big frigging deal. Whatever had transpired between them was old news. So why, all these years later, was she still acting like a teenager after a Bieber sighting? It was going to stop, here and now.
She threw back her shoulders, ready to dive into the discussion and behave like her witty, charming self, but she was saved the effort when some fans approached their table asking Galen for an autograph. Once the floodgate was opened, there was no closing it, and over the next hour, dozens of people stopped by for a picture or a high five. Her brother handled it so well and seemed genuinely honored each and every time, which made them love him even more. Invariably, once the female sect realized that Galen was very taken, they turned hot eyes on Shane and asked if he was a fighter, too.
“Nope. Just a regular Joe,” he’d drawl.
The most recent group—this one, all ladies—was clearly out for a good time and didn’t mind Shane’s lack of pro-athlete status. One dark-haired chick separated herself from the pack and boldly dragged a stool up to sit beside him. “More like a G.I. Joe. Where’d you get all those muscles?”
Her skirt was so short that Cat caught a flash of rhinestones that were either appliquéd onto the front of a flesh-colored thong or part of the girl’s attempt at vajazzling. Cat’s professional curiosity required her to investigate further—even if she didn’t design underwear—so she squinted hard, half-tempted to squat down for a proper look. If she eyeballed the girl’s lady parts any harder, she was going to feel obligated to buy her dinner or something.
When she finally looked up, she found Shane staring at her with a bemused smile. She turned away, cheeks hot. So much for playing it cool.
“Well, Joe? You gonna tell me where you got all these fine muscles?” the vajazzler pressed, pouting as she leaned into him.
“Just like to stay fit, is all.”
Cat looked at him hard. Was it her imagination or was he leaning away from those gargantuan breasts? Interesting.
The woman seemed to note that, too, and after a few more halfhearted attempts at flirtation, stood with a defeated sigh. “Well, this bar’s pretty dead. We’re going to find some action. Nice meeting y’all.”
She tottered away on her knockoff Pradas and Cat turned to face Shane. “What’s up with that?”
“What’s up with what?”
“Most guys would have jumped at the opportunity to make some time with her. You have a girlfriend back in Cali or something?”
“Nope. I’m just…selective.” His gaze drifted from her face downward, and Cat’s breath hitched. How could such an innocuous word seem so suggestive coming from those lips? Lips that she would love to—
She froze, slamming the door on that thought, quick. Even if she did think he was sexy in an overly intense and annoying way, and even if he did want to pick up where they’d left off all those years ago—which he surely didn’t—a fling between them would cause nothing but problems in the long run. She didn’t need a protector all up in her business and he didn’t need a…what was it he’d called her that night at the lake? Right. A “spoiled pain in the ass with a death wish” messing up his neat little life, even for a little while.
She’d broken eye contact with him and was about to excuse herself to run her heated mug under the ladies’ room faucet when Galen let out a groan.