Alive at Night (Wildflower, #1)

by Amelie Rhys

“Trying to steal my drink, Daisy?”

“Julian?” Her nose scrunched as she processed whose coffee she was trying to steal. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

If there was one constant in my life, it was that Juniper St. James would always be the pain in my ass.

Julian drew his lips into a firm line before he finally pounced on an approaching bartender for another drink.

She seemed like she needed a little nudge. And while I’d love to give it to her, touching Juniper was an awful idea.

“Whatever you thought was wrong,” I groaned as she wiggled on top of me.

Goddamnit, I needed her ass to find a new place to sit, and I needed that now. Before things got...

hand landed on my thigh, the quick touch burning through my pants as she pushed off me.

“We’re not kids, Daisy. This isn’t some competition.” She raised a brow at me. “Says the man who’s calling me by my childhood nicknames.”

“You’re getting powdered sugar everywhere,” she said. There was a bit of humor in her voice. “Maybe next time you bring treats, you should pick ones that aren’t so fucking messy.” I licked my lips, and Juniper’s eyes flicked down to my mouth momentarily. Heat wrapped around me.

“You have a lot of…impressive friends,” I started. Both of Julian’s brows skyrocketed. “Excuse me?” “Your friends,” I repeated. “I was hoping you could—” “Most of my friends are married,” he deadpanned before I could even finish. “I just need a date for a wedding,”

honestly doesn’t matter if they’re in love with someone else.” The words tumbled out of my mouth before I really considered them, and now that I had, yep, they sounded bad. “Um, I care,” Julian intoned. “I just meant that it would be fake,” I quickly

in, not real. As in, just pretend...

“Come on, Julian,” I said before he could really rev his engines up. “I know you must have at least one friend whose number you could

went to every single one of your games in high school, didn’t I?” His brows furrowed. “You did?”

“You might not remember me, but I was that girl who sat with your family in the crowd and tried to blend in with all the redheads.” “I—” He opened his mouth, shut it again, and frowned. “I knew you came to some of them. But I didn’t know you went to all of them. Pretty sure you called me an empty-headed jock on at least one occasion. I took that to mean you weren’t exactly a fan of the game.”

“The jersey’s mine, yeah.” Noah raised a brow, and he grinned cheekily. “Well, it looks better on her than you anyway.”

“What’s your address?” he asked when the glowing lights of the city grew closer.

“I’ll just walk home from your place,” I said with a yawn. “It’s not far.” “It’s midnight.” “So?” “So, you’re not going to walk home.” He readjusted his hand on the steering wheel, gripping it tightly. “Tell me your address, Juni.” “632 Oliver Street,” I recited.

“No, just—stay over there,” I rasped. “Please.” Juniper’s sigh was like a cool breeze on this otherwise hot summer night. “Fine.”

“OH, HELL NO.”

“Take the goddamn plants off my desk, Poppy.”

“Right now, my apartment looks like I’m unhealthily obsessed with plants, books, and clothes and have no friends,” I said, doing whatever I could to not get sucked into the past. “I don’t want Noah to see all that.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I frowned, not sure what had been unclear. “It means I invited Noah over and—” Julian’s entire body seemed to tense, though I didn’t understand the reason behind it. “Why did you do that?”

“If Noah and I are going to act like we’re in a relationship at my sister’s wedding, we need to get to know each other first.”

survive one night together. “Hold on. Hold on.” Julian lifted a hand while raking the other one through his damp strands. “Hold on, Rosie.” He paused, and it felt theatric, as usual. I tapped my foot, impatient.

“And you want Noah to pretend to be your boyfriend?”

“That’s not what you told me.”

told you I needed a fake date.” “A fake date is different from a f...

It’s just for one night.” Why did he care so much? “It’ll be fine.” “Why?” “What do you mean why?”

“Why does he need to pretend to be your boyfriend?”

“It’s pepperoni and pineapple. You still like that, right?”

assumed you still wanted to stay and look at that case tonight.” After drawing out the moment in his own personal brand of dramatics, he spoke. “You remember what kind of pizza I like?” “Saturday pizza nights at your house were a staple of my childhood, Julian.” Was

“How could I forget the way you domineered the weekly ordering process?” Julian hesitantly opened the box, frowning. “You didn’t have to buy dinner,” he muttered, ignoring my critical comment. Typical. “How much was it?” “Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you going to eat, too?” he asked after swallowing the first bite and licking his lips. “You always get food and drinks for other people but never yourself.”

“I’ll eat.”

didn’t want to argue about it, nor did I want Julian to go down a sudden rabbit hole that involved dissecting my relationship with food. So to prove it to him, I grabbed a slice of pizza and dropped into my desk chair. I kicked my feet up in a hopefully casual attempt to brush past his comment, and Julian’s gaze flicked over to me before immediately training on the ceiling instead.

“What?” I asked, ragged exasperation filling the word. What the hell...

Your dress,” he admitted hoarsely.

Huh? My polka-dotted wrap dress was one of my favorites. Flimsy and comfortable, it covered my thighs entirely, even as I sat back in my chair. But as I smoothed the hem and followed it around

the back, I realized that with my legs propped up, the underside of my legs—and maybe even a bit of my ass—were exposed. Unlike the skirt I had on yesterday, this dress didn’t stick to me like a second skin. I has...

Finally, Julian responded by making a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, and I snapped out of it. “Didn’t realize you were afraid of a little bare skin,”

“Afraid?” Julian chuckled, but it was deep, and there wasn’t much humor there. His voice tickled the already raised hairs on my arm. “Daisy, no.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” “Why didn’t I tell you what?” “That your brakes aren’t working.” “Why would I tell you?”

“It’s not that bad. Just whenever I drive, they—” “Jesus Christ, Juniper,”

“You’re still driving with bad brakes?”

“Why do you care?” I shot back, instantly defensive as I careened into memories of that night in high school and all the other nights, too. Anxious energy filled my words. “As long as I’m not driving Gemma around, it’s not like it’ll matter to you if I end up in a ditch with a broken neck.” Julian flinched at my harsh words, his eyes darkening as they swept over me...

“You don’t need to wait for me.” “Yes, I do.” He momentarily pinched the bridge of his nose. “I need you to show me where your car is so I can look at it.” He wasn’t serious, was he? “I have an appointment with a mechanic next week.” “I’m a mechanic.” “You’re an attorney, not a mechanic.”

“I’m as good as one after how many years I worked in my dad’s shop, and you know it.”

“How are you planning to get to your appointment if your brakes don’t work?” I shrugged. “Well, it’s not far, and my brakes should work enough to get me there—” Julian interrupted me with a grunt. “Let’s go.”