Second Chance Boyfriend(23)

Just like the woman in front of me.

For a moment, I let my imagination run away from me. Instead of a stranger, it’s Fable in front of me. Dancing for me, so beautiful as she moves, her lips curved in a seductive smile, her eyes glowing as she watches me. I stare back, my mouth going dry, my skin tight and hot…

I hear Ty’s unmistakable laugh, snapping me back to reality.

The girl smiles at me, her hands on my shoulders, her barely covered breasts in my face as she twists and turns to the beat of the music. Her hips roll and thrust toward me as she reaches behind her back, deftly undoing both straps on her bikini top so it falls from her chest and lands on the floor.

She has small breasts and big nipples, nothing like Fable. Of course she’s nothing like her. I need to stop comparing all women to her. It’s a mistake. Hell, it’s a sickness. One I need to cure myself of and quickly, since she already has someone else.

The realization makes me almost sick to my stomach.

“Put your tits in his face!” Ty yells and she tosses her hair and laughs, thrusting her chest directly in my face as Ty commanded, her skin brushing against mine. I smell sweat, cheap perfume and alcohol emanating from her pores and I wrinkle my nose.

This girl is nothing like mine. She’s nothing like any sort of girl I’d ever be interested in.

“You’re hot,” the dancer whispers and I tilt my head back, our gazes locking. “Want to hook up after I get off work? My shift ends in an hour.”

I slowly shake my head. “I don’t think so.” That she solicits me so easily makes me think this isn’t her first time doing this sort of thing.

She pouts. “I bet you have a girlfriend, right? All the quiet, good-looking ones do.”

“Yeah, I have a girlfriend.” A fake one, one I lost claim to months ago. But it’s easier to agree than to explain myself.

Her pout turns into a deep frown. “I’m sure your friend who bought you the dance is available, huh? I’m sure most girls wouldn’t tolerate his crap for long.”

The girl is perceptive. She’s danced for me for all of three minutes tops and has the both of us all figured out. “He’s definitely available.”

She grimaces. “Of course he is.”

The song ends, as does my dance, and she steps away from me, a little smile curving her lips. I never noticed until now her lipstick color matches the neon pink of her bikini and fingernails. She glows in the black lights, giving her a weird and unnatural effect. “You’re quite the gentleman.” She bends over and snatches her bikini top from the floor. “Take that as a compliment.”

“Thanks,” I say weakly, immobile in my chair. My head is still spinning. I drank way too much and I’m almost afraid to stand. I might collapse like an idiot. “For the dance and the compliment.”

Flashing me a smile, she wiggles her fingers at me then heads over to Ty. He immediately grabs her like she’s his piece of property. His hands are sprawled across her back and butt as he hauls her close into him. She hasn’t even put her top back on yet and he’s got his hands all over her, his mouth at her ear. She shoves at his chest and I’m tempted to go and tell her to get away from him, but then I hear her giggle and I know she likes it.

Likes him.

Disgusted with myself, I stand and glance around the room, waiting for the spinning to ease. It’s so dark and there are so many guys in the place, I can’t make out who’s who. No way could I find my friends in this crowd. I need to get the hell out of here. I need to get home, but I’m far from my apartment complex, which is clear on the other side of town. My truck is at the restaurant Fable works at.

I’m freaking stranded.

Frowning, I pull my cell out of my pocket and study the dark screen. I could do it. I practically dare myself to type in the one word that might send her to me.

Or that word might make her run away. It should. I don’t deserve her help.

Deciding to go for it before my balls shrivel up and retreat into my body forever, I tap out eleven letters, spelling a word that both makes me happy and haunts my thoughts.



Fable



My phone buzzes in my pocket just as I’m getting ready to clock out. It’s late, the restaurant was packed till the last possible minute and my feet are killing me.

I check my messages and audibly gasp at the one word that seems to fill the screen, daring me to ignore it.

Marshmallow

Anger surges within me. How dare he use that word? What the hell does he want? Does he need me to rescue him yet again? I can’t believe his audacity.

But the worry kicks in, and the anger subsides. What if he’s in trouble? He’s with those jerk assholes he doesn’t really like and probably shouldn’t trust. What if they did something to him and he’s lying in a heap on the side of the road, bleeding to death?