“There are always cabs waiting out front. This place is easy pickings for fare.”
She comes here often? I’ve never seen her here, and I come regularly. Of course, it’s usually well after ten when I get here. Damn early bird.
I follow her to the booth, and she starts hugging the girls, bidding them all farewell as I hang back and sip my still nearly full beer. She then turns back to me and her smile actually does something fucked up to me.
I’ve had too much to drink.
“Thanks,” she says sweetly. “For dancing with me, I mean.”
I shrug, acting as though she hasn’t given me the worst hard-on ever.
“No big deal. Dates dance,” I say casually.
Of course I usually fuck after dancing—on the rare occasion that I dance. Not tonight. Not with her.
She starts to walk away, and again I follow, until she stops abruptly and I have to do one hell of a maneuver to keep from running over her.
“What are you doing?” she asks as she turns around.
“Walking you out and paying for your cab.”
What does she think I’m doing?
She laughs as though I’ve said something funny.
“That’s not necessary. I paid for a cab here, and I can pay for my cab home. I don’t trust you. I might end up in Arizona if I let you anywhere near the cabby.”
“Fine,” I say again, even though it’s irking the hell out of me. “Then... I guess... Well, I’ll see you at home... Er... I mean... You know what I mean.”
I curse myself for suddenly sounding like a nervous kid. What the hell is in my beer?
“Yep,” she says with a growing grin. “And something nice will be waiting for you.”
For a second, that sounds dirty, but in the next breath, it sounds terrifying. What has the devil woman done now?
I start to speak, when she slaps the bottom of her beer against the top rim of mine, and my beer starts foaming and bubbling out, distracting me as I try to pull the bottle away from me before my drink gets all over my clothes. When I look up, her head is thrown back as she laughs and walks away.
Tag comes up beside me and sips his beer while joining me in gazing after the little pain in my ass. He’s not scowling like me, though. Now I need a new beer.
“I can’t tell if you want to fuck her or throttle her,” Tag says, the smug bastard sounding amused.
My eyes land on her ass that suddenly seems so much more tempting than it did yesterday.
“Yeah, well, that makes two of us,” I mutter dryly, hoping he didn’t really hear that.
Watching her hips sway like I’m entranced is actually pissing me off. She’d better not ever wear a dress again. Any dress at all.
I really don’t like this.
Chapter 4
BRIN
“So you went on a date with Mr. Sexy?” Maggie asks in disbelief as I slowly peel off the high heels that have tortured my feet all day.
She was gone when I got home last night, and she was still asleep when I left this morning.
“Well, only because Wren Prize realized he was way out of my league before I even got there. He probably googled me.”
She snorts out a laugh as I collapse to the chair, too tired to move. I hate new exhibits.
“Believe me, that can’t be the case. I’ve met his ex-wife. She was a moody bitch. One day she’d be incredibly sweet, and the next she’d be a total snob.”
With this crowd, it’s all about the total package usually. They want the shell to be just as pretty as what’s inside. I’m surprised he married someone that cheated on him with his brother, but I’m not surprised that she was a beauty queen.
I’m just... me. A little plain and certainly nothing extraordinary. I was never the girl that drew the men in, especially if there were any other girls around. Sterling Shore is frigging loaded with girls who look like they just stepped out of a Paul Colton fashion magazine. I married one of the three guys I dated in high school.
“But she had all the Sterling sparkle,” I sigh, glancing over to see a very tempting box of donuts.
I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since breakfast. But they’re so far away, and my feet hurt so badly. And since when does Maggie buy donuts? She’s a health fanatic.
I start to ask when she says, “You can always get the Sterling sparkle, too.”
This time I’m the one to snort out a laugh. “And be someone I’m not? No thank you. I’d rather find a guy who likes the real me. Plastic surgery is so out of the question. Some girls are born to be beautiful and wear dresses like the one I borrowed from you, and some girls are like me. I like going out without a lot of makeup, or sexy hair, or high heels, or even anything special. That’s who I am. I wish I was like you, or Rain, or Tria, or Ash, but I’m not. I’m also fine with that.”