“You missed the first round. I’m good for another beer,” Wyatt piped up.
“Make that two,” Reid said.
“Three.” Luke tossed back the beer in his glass, emptying it.
“Two margs and three beers.” I looked around the table for any other orders.
“I would love a beer, not going to lie. But I guess I’ll just have water,” Scarlett grumbled.
“Good,” Wes said, lifting the glass he was nursing.
At least their orders were easy. I stepped away and heard the scraping of the chair against the floor.
“Where are you going?” I asked quietly. Lydia had gotten up and was following me to the bar.
“How were you planning to carry all that?” she sassed back.
Ronnie was manning the bar. Her black hair wasn’t braided like usual; instead, her natural coils added a foot of height and width around her face as the tight curls bounced with unrestrained freedom.
“Gorgeous, Ronnie. Love the hair,” I told her, breaking out my dimple.
“Save the flirty talk for one of them. I just want the tips,” she said with a smile, gesturing her head to a group of women, all in their mid-twenties, if I had to guess. They were looking my way, so I shot a quick wink in their direction.
“We need two margaritas and… how many beers?” Lydia stepped up to the bar on the side of me, effectively inserting herself in my line of sight and blocking out the ladies.
Her green eyes seemed to shine in the low light. I wasn’t sure what kind of trickery that was, but I had a hard time pulling my gaze away from her. She had lined her eyes in her dark makeup again. She had gone without it for the last few weeks. I loved the more natural look on her, but this look was just as hot.
I pulled myself out of my thoughts, turning back to Ronnie. “Four,” I said.
“And a water,” Lydia added.
“And a root beer,” I said.
“Anything else?” Ronnie asked.
I looked over at Lydia. “What are you getting, little wild? I didn’t hear your order in the mix.”
She held my gaze, and I could feel it in my body, in my bones. “Gin and tonic.”
“And a gin and tonic for the lady,” I told Ronnie.
Ronnie raised a quizzical brow at me. “I know. I could hear her.”
Lydia had a smug smirk on her face that I wanted to kiss off her lips.
Fuck.
No. Wipe off her lips. Not kiss her soft, sweet lips.
Ronnie poured the drinks, placing them down on the counter. They started to stack up, and I realized that evenwith Lydia helping me, there was no way to carry nine drinks back to the table.
“Can you run the margaritas over while I pay for this?”
Lydia’s gaze shifted to the women at the bar quickly before bouncing back to me. One of the ladies in particular was coyly wrapping her lips around her straw. I knew an invitation when I saw one—she was clearly interested. “No. You run the drinks over, and I’ll pay. How about that?”
“With what money? I know what you make, remember? You can’t afford all this.”
“Then you should pay me more.” She leaned in, her head doing that sassy dance that she did when she thought she was funny.
