Breaking Even(22)

“Would you rather I gave you all my attention?” I ask, giving her my most charming smile, which she quickly dissolves under.

Predictable.

Her grin splits her face as she takes a sexy-strutted step toward me and puts her hands on my chest, running her fingers down to the tops of my abs.

“Yes. I would,” she says, trying to sound as provocative as one can.

“Rye,” Tag calls, looking over his shoulder as he mans the bar in the absence of his bartender.

“Yeah,” I say, walking away from my ready-to-please date.

“Grab the salt, and come do shots with us. It’s in the kitchen. Top right cabinet.”

What am I? The fetch-it bitch?

“Sure,” I mumble, feeling a little distracted when a small, reserved giggle comes out of Brin.

That’s not her laugh. Her laugh is either maniacal or carefree. That’s the most forced laugh I’ve ever heard.

Why the fuck do I care?

Wren’s a good guy. She’ll be fine. It’s not my damn place to worry about whether or not she’s fine.

I make my way inside the house and roll my eyes. Tag’s directions suck. There are at least ten top right cabinets. Dick. It’s not like I’ve never been in his kitchen before, but I’ve never had any reason to dig through his damn cabinets.

After opening and closing several, I finally find the one that hosts the salt, but something else catches my eye. Red food coloring.

Reflexively, my eyes dart to the French doors and land on Brin. I could so get her with that dark beer and this red food coloring.

Ah, hell. I can’t. We called a truce for the day.

Sulking, I start to close the cabinet, but then I swipe both bottles of red food coloring instead. I’ll just play with Ingrid. One person is just as good as another and this opportunity is too good to pass up.

As soon as I make it outside, Ingrid is waiting and I’m handing Tag the salt.

“Can I do shots with you?” she purrs, back to being all over me.

I grin as I take her red, fruity drink. Perfect. “Sure. You do the first one.”

She giggles like a fool hands me her drink. When she looks away, I pour a whole tube of the stuff in what little bit of drink she has left. The red blends in with the differently shaded red drink—enough to pass a drunk girl’s inspection.

She chugs the shot, and I happily hand her back her drink to chase the tequila with. She takes large sips, finishing it off, and I grin in anticipation.

“Was the shot good?” I ask, reaching for one of my own.

When she smiles, I can’t help but burst out laughing. Her teeth, tongue, lips... her whole damn mouth is blood red. Girl could pass for a freshly fed vampire right now.

“What?” she asks, but I can’t speak because I’m laughing too hard.

I look around for Brin, hoping she sees it too, but she’s down on the beach with Wren. Really? She’s missing the fun stuff.

When my laughter continues to be belted out, Ingrid turns and looks at Tag who leans back, cringing.

“Damn, girl,” Tag says, just as Dane sees her and chokes on his shot, laughing as soon as he coughs his drink down.

She jerks her head toward the windows of the house, and a shrill scream of horror escapes her before she starts spitting the red out—well, trying to spit it out. Damn, this shit is awesome.

She’s almost crying, so to relieve her panic, I manage to form words. “Relax,” I say through my laughter. “It’s just food dye.”

Her eyes widen as she looks up, a long, red spit string still clinging to her lips. That’s gross.

“You did this?” she almost yells.

Yes. A little fun is about to begin.

I just nod, proud of my little prank. Her face turns a furious red that rivals the stains in her mouth, and she twirls around angrily to stomp out.

That’s no fun.

“Way to lose a date,” Dane chuckles, acknowledging me without any hint of distaste.

At least he’s warming up.

Hmmm. Ingrid’s reaction was not the result I expected. In fact, that’s the opposite of what I wanted. I think I’ve laughed more in the past few days than I ever have in my life. I really should have started doing this sooner.

“I wish Brin hadn’t made me call a temporary truce,” I grumble, now feeling bored as Wren and she slowly make their way back toward us.

“You can hold off on torturing her for one more day,” Tag snickers.

It’s Saturday. I had a lot of shit planned for our war.

“They won’t work,” I say mildly, tossing back a shot of my own before gesturing toward the beach.

“Why?” Tag asks, sipping his beer now.

“Wren and Brin? How dorky is it to have rhyming names?” I ask incredulously.