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don’t want her to rehash anything. Not tonight, at least.
    That being said, I wish she would open up to me. I have a feeling there’s something about her I’m missing. Something she doesn’t want me to see. Every time I’ve seen her at the house, she was never like the girl I’m with tonight. And whoever Brad had described to me as the hurt divorcee isn’t who I’m standing next to, either.
    I have a feeling there are a lot of layers to Ashley Evans, and I wish she’d let me peel them back.
    “Don’t we all,” I say, running a nervous hand through my hair. She makes me nervous. Plus, I haven’t had a smoke since before I ate dinner, and right now I’m jonesing for one so bad, I can almost taste the bitterness on my tongue. “Have you ever been here?” I nod toward the entrance of the club.
    “No. I’m not big on going to these places,” she says, shaking her head. “I always end up meeting the wrong people.”
                  Apparently my brain filter doesn’t work when I’m drunk...or anytime I’m around her, for that matter. “Yeah, tell me about it.” I close my eyes, remembering how I’d met Carole. “I need a smoke.”
    I stop abruptly on the sidewalk and watch Brad and Laurie walk into the club. Neither seem too worried about us. I take out my pack and proceed to light up, keeping my eyes on Ashley’s.
    Inhaling deeply, I watch her lips part and her eyes darken as her tongue peeks out while she keeps her eyes trained on my face.
    After a moment, she shakes her head, seemingly getting herself out of her trance, and clucks her tongue while narrowing her eyes. “You said you were trying to quit.”
    Breaking eye contact, I turn my head to exhale, not wanting to add fuel to the fire and send smoke in her direction. “I will quit,” I reply quietly, enjoying the feel of nicotine running through me, then add, “Someday.”
    She looks at me curiously, while worrying her bottom lip. Damn, she has a pretty mouth.
                  There isn’t much I wouldn’t do to those lips.
    My alcohol ladened brain has all sorts of dirty things going through it when it comes to her.
    She scrunches up her face and turns up her nose. “It’s a disgusting habit.”
    I take another drag, my eyes still on her face, and exhale, blowing the smoke to the side. “I know, but it keeps me sane when I’m stressed.”
    “And you’re stressed right now?” She raises an eyebrow, a smirk trying to make its way to her soft-looking lips.
    I look away, expelling more smoke from my poor lungs. “Something like that.”
    She clears her throat. “Can we go in now?”
    “Just a sec.” Though we’re quiet, we hang out for a few more minutes outside the club so I can finish my cig, and I’m surprised when she actually stays with me.
    Leaning by the door, against the building, I take her in completely. From the flat sandals she’s wearing on her feet, to the short denim skirt hugging her hips, all the way to the short-sleeved, V-neck blouse. I hadn’t noticed earlier, but she looks really nice. She always looks good. Her work attire is professional and usually consists of heels, with either skirts or slacks, but this is casual and seems more fitting to her personality.
    “You look nice,” I compliment, then mentally slap myself for being sort of an asshole. I could have said that about three hours ago. Nice, really? She’s stunning. Pretty. Fucking perfect. Way beyond “nice.”
    She nods, turning away from me and doing that body hug thing, and mutters, “Thanks.”
    “I guess we should go in, huh?” I rub my hand behind my neck and stub out my smoke with the other. It’s getting a little awkward around here, and I need a drink before I start talking about things I don’t want to talk about right now. Like her lips. Or her eyes. Or her ass. Or the permanent boner I have whenever she’s around.
    Music blares from inside the building and the loud beat from the base makes the ground under