Chapter 1

The music is so loud it's giving me a headache.

Pulsing and mixing with the flashing lights and making me grumpier than I already am.

Mostly because I don't want to be out.

I want to be in bed, cuddled in my velvet jammies, drinking the frothy hot chocolate from the special mix I treat myself to during this time of year. In fact, I bought myself an extra box knowing this month was coming.

December.

Hellish.

Busy.

Full to the brim with Christmas.

Yes, I say that in my head like it's a four-letter word.

Smothering a sigh, I rub my temple, fighting the headache brewing there, knowing I'm just tired and cranky because I worked all day. Again. Knowing that I'm extra tired after busting my ass for weeks on end, pulling eighty-hour weeks because everyone waits until the last minute to get ready for the holidays.

And as a hairstylist, that means the last month has been filled with cuts and freshening up colors and doing styles for so many holiday parties. Add in listening to all the drama that everyone inevitably fills my ears with, decorating my own place, and doing my own shopping, and…I do not want to be here right now.

I want velvet jammies and hot cocoa and to sleep for a hundred years.

But Toby wanted to try this new club. And so did Colleen.

And when my boyfriend and best friend want something, I'm overruled.

Hence, the reason my ass is currently parked on a barstool, club music assaulting my ears and the flashing lights from the dance floor making my eyes hurt.

"And then," Colleen says, her gorgeous lips curved in a smile, "I went to my boss and…"

She leans closer to Toby, finishing a story I can't hear over the din—or maybe I can't hear it because I'm the aforementioned tired and not listening all that well.

Either way, she stops talking and Toby bursts out laughing, and I slug back the remnants of my drink.

"Be right back," I tell them, hopping off my stool and snagging my purse.

"You good, babe?" Colleen asks.

"Bathroom," I shout over the sound of the music before taking off for the bathroom.

Bracing myself, I weave my way through the throng of bodies, pushing beyond the crush and making it to the hallway. Thankfully, it's quieter in the hall, and I lean back against the wall and take a breath, trying to summon the fun Jolie.

Unfortunately, I think she's gone south for the winter.

Or maybe she's gone forever.

Run out of town by bills and adult responsibilities and just feeling tired, all the freaking time.

Sighing, I push off the wall, start to head to the bathroom. If I'm out—and not in my comfy jammies—I should make the best of it. Get another drink, take some silly pictures with Colleen and Toby. Maybe make a TikTok and—

I pat my pockets.

"Shit," I mutter, realizing I left my cell on the bar top.

Normally, I would just use the bathroom then go back for it. But it's a brand-new phone because I dunked my old one in a sink while washing the toner out of a client's hair a few days ago, and I barely got this new one set up in the subsequent chaos of my work week.

I don't want to risk it getting stolen or a drink spilled on it or—

I just don't want to risk it, okay?

Preparing myself for the noise, I turn around and move back into the throng of writhing bodies, expecting to have to push and shove my way through again.

Only this time, it's like the crowd is the Red Sea.

They part before me, leaving an opening I can easily walk through.

But just as I start to do that, some instinct inside prompts me to look up.

To stare across the open space.

To look toward the trio of stools where I'd just been sitting.

They're empty.

No, only two of them are empty. One is occupied. By Toby…and Colleen. They're wrapped in each other's arms, mouths pressed together, and?—

I stumble as someone bumps into me.

Toby's hands are on Colleen's ass, dipping under the short hem of her bodycon dress, rubbing lightly across the backs of her thighs.

I like that.

That is my favorite thing Toby does. A little tease. A little naughty. Mine.

Only, he's doing it to my best friend.

Someone bumps into me again, harder this time, and I don't know if the contact just catches me wrong or my legs are weak because of the scene I'm trying to process in front of me. The only thing I do process is that I'm flying through the air, landing hard on my knees.

Pain shooting up my legs.

My palms scrape against the floor, sending a burning heat through my arms.

Someone steps on my hand, and I cry out, jerking back, holding it to my chest, watching them kiss and kiss and kiss.

Watching my cell sitting there on the table, sad and unattended and…

Scooped up by someone brushing by them.

There and gone in a second.

I shove to my feet, intending to go after the man who is currently walking away, shoving my phone into his pocket. But I barely make it before I'm bumped again. This time, I tumble into a group of men, bouncing off them almost comically, seeing the floor flying up toward my face.

I brace for the impact—

And it doesn't come.

Instead, a big, warm hand wraps around my arm, catching me, hauling me back up to my feet. "Whoa," the rough voice says as he steadies me. "Easy there, sweetheart."

Sweetheart.

Normally, I hate the endearment, but in the husky voice that somehow reaches my ears over the cacophony of the club, it rolls like velvet over my skin.

Lifting goose bumps.

Sending a bolt of heat through my middle.

I spin, look up, up, up…into the prettiest pair of hazel eyes I've ever seen. Then stick my hand out and blurt, "My phone."

Those eyes go from mine to where I'm pointing.

"My boyfriend—" I clear my throat when his eyes come back. "He's supposed to watch it, watch out for my stuff, but he's?—"

Those hazel eyes change, and I don't want to look too closely.

Don't want to see pity in the pretty golden-green depths.

"The guy in the red hat took it off the bar top," I say.

Another glance away and I watch his eyes narrow, the action drawing my focus to his thick lashes before he nods at someone next to him. "Lake?"

"On it," comes another voice, and I feel someone move away from the circle of men I'd toppled into, watch as he maneuvers through the crowd like he'd been born to navigate through tight spaces.

A hand drops to the side of my neck, squeezing lightly. "Your boyfriend?" tall, dark, and hazel-eyed asks softly.

Heat in my cheeks.

I try to pull back, but he doesn't let me, tugging me a little closer.

Near enough that I can see the intricate lines of a tattoo drifting above the neck of his T-shirt. Near enough I can smell the spicy scent of him.

"Your boyfriend?" he asks again.

I bite my lip. Release it.

Sigh softly because my eyes are welling up, and I really don't want to cry right now. "And my best friend," I say, glancing back at the bar, seeing them finally break apart, though they do it slowly, with lingering touches that have my stomach churning.

Colleen's lipstick isn't even messed up.

Christ, she even does make up better than me. My lipstick didn't make it beyond my first drink.

I need a drink.

About five of them.

The man curses, and I tear my eyes away from the stools of betrayal and look back up into those hazel eyes.

"Your best friend?" he repeats.

A tear spills over my lashes, and I tug at his hold. "I should go," I say. "I should—"

But I don't even get the rest of my protest out before he's moving me through the crowd, expertly navigating us so I don't get within an inch of another person, let alone get bumped again.

Then we're in the hall, and I'm still blinking from the sudden movement, from the guiding…

From the man pinning me to the wall and putting his scowling face in mine.

"Your boyfriend and your best friend?"