"Bloody hilarious," I said, mimicking her accent.
Great. Just great. I didn't see the guy for days, and bam-he showed up on girls' night. Maybe he'd hidden some kind of tracking program on my damn phone, some way of knowing where I was at all times so he could pop in whenever he wanted to.
But … I couldn't deny he looked good tonight. I mean, good for him, anyway. His hair was pulled back at the nape of his neck, and he'd dressed down his black collared shirt with distressed jeans. The top buttons of the shirt had been left undone, like he'd been pulled away before he could bother with them, and the sleeves were casually rolled up, showcasing his strong forearms. It always surprised me that he wasn't covered in tattoos, given his "look," but as long as I'd known him, he'd never shown an interest. Could be hot, though.
"You're staring," Ryleigh said in my ear, jolting me out of my thoughts. I glanced at her over my shoulder, and she had a secretive smile on her face. "Just thought I'd call you out on it so you can't deny it later."
I narrowed my eyes. "I was merely wondering where his strings of necklaces were this fine evening."
"Sure you were."
God, what was wrong with me? One sappy memory and I was mooning over the guy? I mentally slapped myself to get it together.
"Go say hi," Quinn said, pushing me toward the bar.
"Yeah, I should say something, right? Before it gets awkward."
Ryleigh was biting her lip. "You should."
"Yep, I'm going," I said, running my hands over my low-cut top to make sure all was still in place. It certainly wasn't to open the fabric a bit more. Not at all.
"Fancy seeing you here," I said, sidling up alongside him where he stood waiting for his drink at the bar. "Not stalking me, are you?"
"Paige," he said, surprise lighting up his face. "Hey … What are you doing here?"
Well, shit. He seemed genuinely taken aback, soooo I guessed the tracker theory was out.
"So this is where you've been hiding," I said.
"Just tonight." He inclined his head back at a trio of guy friends. "Justin's birthday."
"You know you don't need an excuse, right?"
"For … ?"
"Being out. Drinking. Dancing. Dating. Whatever."
Dawson's lips twisted like he was trying not to smile. "Dating, huh?"
"I mean, yeah. It's not like I've got you on a leash or something, so you're free to do whatever you want."
"So, you're giving me permission now, is that it?"
"I'm just saying don't let a little thing like being married slow your roll."
Dawson's forehead crinkled as he studied my face, and then he began to slowly shake his head. "You're an interesting woman, Pita."
"I've been called worse."
A jolt came from behind, someone knocking into me to get through the crowd, and Dawson's hands came out to steady my waist. It was then that he seemed to notice what I was wearing, because his eyes grew large.
"Wow," he said.
An unfamiliar warmth spread through my chest at his admiration. "Thank you."
"That's … Damn. You should wear that more often." His gaze continued to travel up my body, and when his eyes landed back on mine, he cleared his throat. "I mean, uh, maybe you should put on pants next time."
I couldn't help the laugh that escaped my mouth. "Right. I'll take that into consideration."
"You here with the girls?"
"Yep." I nodded over to where they stood, watching our exchange, and when he looked their way, their attention whirled back to the stage.
"They do know they're about as subtle as a blow job, right?" he said, as one of the dancers came over to let Quinn stick another dollar in her bikini bottoms.
"Guess that's why I fit right in." I ran my finger down the length of my shirt, and Dawson's eyes followed. When his gaze lifted, I winked. "See you around, Dick."
* * *
AN HOUR LATER, I was coming out of the bathroom when Dawson rounded the corner and came to a halt in front of me.
"You looked bored out there," I remarked.
"Did I?" He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Nah, I'm not bored. Just not really feelin' it tonight."
"Because I'm here?"
His brow furrowed. "No."
An idea began to form, and my lips curved into a smile. "Well, what do you say we liven things up a bit?"
"You make me nervous when you say things like that."
"Up for a night of dares?"
Dawson shook his head. "I don't think so."
"Oh, come on, it'll be fun. We can even make a bet out of it, if you like."
"A bet?" That got his attention. "What kind of a bet?"
"Hmm. We don't really have a big enough space to do much … and no dancing … what about whoever can get the most numbers wins?"
His hand went to the back of his neck and he groaned. "Bad idea, Pita."
"It's a great idea, thank you very much. Don't be a pussy."
"What the fuck do I need numbers for?"
"To continue filling up your black book, or to give to your friends, or to simply prove me wrong. It doesn't matter why; it's a game."
He sighed, seeming to think it over. "What's the prize?"
"Winner's choice."
"Really?"
"Yep."
"Anything I want?"
"As long as it's legal," I said, remembering the time he dared me to steal a sign from In-N-Out.
Sorry, In-N-Out.
I grabbed his wrist to read the time on his Piguet. "Let's say two hours."
"Two hours. Check."
"And no cheating. No numbers from my friends or your friends."
"I know how to play this silly game, love." His eyes glimmered beneath the ruby lights of the cramped hallway, and something in his stare had my pulse racing. "Don't start things you're not okay with losing."
Standing my ground, I said, "You're not going to win, so I'm not worried."
"And you're sure? Anything I want?"
"If you were to win, which you won't. But, yes, humor yourself."
"You know," he said, fingering the thread of hair that fell over my shoulder, "I admire your confidence. It's always been one of my favorite things about you, but … " He dropped his hand. "You're going down, love."
"You wish."
"That I do, Pita. That I do."
* * *
"YOU'RE AN IDIOT," Ryleigh said, as I sifted through the slips of napkins in my hands two hours later. She and the girls had watched with amused expressions as I'd made my way through the room, flirting and chatting it up with women and guys alike, and that included the dancers. Out of the corner of my eye I'd seen Dawson doing the same, though he steered clear of the males. And that was why I was feeling confident-with the crowd split clearly in half, male and female, that gave me double the winning odds. Once I won this bet, that would give me the leverage I needed to kick him out. Poor guy.
"Oh, live a little." I waved her off and finished counting, then smiled triumphantly. "An even ten, baby."
"What happens if you lose?" Shayne asked.
"I don't lose."
"I said what if."
"In the 0.0001 percent chance I lose, he'd get to name his terms."
Ryleigh went bug-eyed. "Okay, I take back what I said. You've clearly had a lobotomy at some point."
"I'm offended you think I've lost my touch."
"No, we don't think that," Quinn said, her eyes on the dancer slamming her platform shoe down on the stage to get the attention of a guy sitting in front of her. Feisty broads. I loved it.
"All right, well, you guys can apologize for doubting me later," I said, as I saw Dawson heading my way. I met him halfway, a shit-eating grin on my face.
"You look pretty proud of yourself," he said.
"I am," I said, fanning myself with the napkins.
Dawson eyed them and whistled. "Looks like you've been busy. I guess walking around half-naked worked wonders for you."
"You know these are strictly based on my glittering personality." When his lips twitched, I handed him the numbers. "Ten, baby. I'm ready to name my reward now."
"Not so fast … " Dawson said, reaching into his pocket.
"Why? You want to count? Go ahead. I'll wait."
He pulled out a folded pile of napkins. "Eleven."
I blinked. "What? You're lying."
"Not lying." He handed me the stack and then crossed his arms. "Count 'em and weep."
"But … this is impossible," I said, my heart sinking as I counted each one. I never lost this game, not to anyone, and I wasn't about to lose an anything-goes stakes round to Dawson. I held up the last napkin. "That one looks like your handwriting."
"I can assure you, I have no reason to cheat."
"You do if the prize is something you want."
He stared me down, and I relented.
"Fine," I mumbled, still disbelieving I'd lost. I'd lost. At something I was utterly sure of. Apparently the only person who could turn on the charm more than me was … ugh. The man in front of me.