Fox left soon after, catching a cab because Mac refused to give us the keys to our bikes.
“They better still be there in the fuckin’ mornin’,” I bitched at her.
Her gaze narrowed gloriously and I was drunk enough to start eyeing off her zippers with real interest. “Or else what?”
I paused, my mind too drunk for a good comeback. “Or else I’ll be pissed off.”
“Good one, Kelly,” Mac replied with an eye roll. Then she crooked a finger. “Come with me.”
Holy fuck did I want to come with her. I abandoned my beer to the counter and followed her to the living area, barely noticing the party had wound down and the place was emptying fast. She pointed to the couch. It was covered in blankets and pillows. “Lie down.”
I dragged my shirt over my head, tossed it on the floor, and stalked towards her.
She backed up a step, but I noticed with satisfaction that her eyes were on my chest and she may as well have licked her lips the way she was staring at it.
Then she shook her head, as though coming to her senses. “Are you crazy?”
I paused. Was I? Or was I just drunk? What was she talking about?
“I have three brothers. Older brothers. They all own guns. They’ll shoot you if you touch me.”
I shrugged and kept coming for her. “Won’t be the first time.”
“Wait, what? You’ve been shot before?”
“Yep.”
I grabbed her hips and yanked her towards me. Ducking my head, I pressed my lips on hers, waiting for her to respond. She did for a second and I groaned, one hand reaching up to fist her hair.
“What in the goddamn fuck?”
Mac leaped in the air, letting out a little shriek. “Jake!”
I turned, recognising the drummer from Jamieson that I was introduced to at some stage during the night. My brows rose at the guy, silently telling him to fuck off because I was busy. I had zippers to get to.
Jake shook his head, growled, “Fuck this shit,” and left, slamming the loft door behind him. Then Mac burst into tears and this new, vulnerable side to her surprised me. It also left me floundering. I didn’t do tears.
Before I could pat her awkwardly on the back, she took off in the other direction.
I sighed, figuring there was no getting any pussy tonight. Flopping on the couch, I closed my eyes and fell asleep.
When I woke later, the loft was quiet and dark. I groaned, rubbing the side of my face and then scratching at the stubble on my jaw. I rolled off the couch, ready to go search for the keys to my baby and take her home when the unmistakable sound of retching came from the bathroom door.
“Hell,” I muttered. Had Grace even slept at all?
I opened the bathroom door quietly and did a double take, because it wasn’t Grace heaving over the toilet bowl this time. It was Mac.
“Jesus, babe. You okay? How much did you have to drink?”
I sat on the edge of the tub and for the second time that night, I held back a chick’s hair and rubbed her back in warm circles while she threw up in the toilet. Classy bitches sure puked a lot.
“Nothing,” she moaned.
The door opened and Grace slipped inside, shutting it behind her. Her eyes found Mac first and they flashed with concern. Then they found mine and I saw the banked amusement. “Kelly. Come here often?”
Then her eyes fell on the vanity and they widened like fuckin’ dinner plates.
I followed her gaze.
“Shit,” I muttered. On the vanity sat a pregnancy test. Highlighted in pink neon so bright they stood out like a cock at a lesbian orgy, were two distinct lines.
“You’re pregnant,” Grace breathed.
Oh shit. And I’d tried fuckin’ her. What a douche.
“Who’s the father?” I asked because I could be nosy when the occasion warranted it. I wanted to know who’d knock this hot bitch up and then leave her so I could go tell him what a giant cock he was.
Mac swallowed and wiped away the smeared trails of mascara that ran down her cheeks. She looked at me, then she looked at Grace.
“Jake,” she rasped, her voice hoarse from puking. “It’s Jake.”