“I wouldn’t if I were you.” The guy shakes his head at Beau while pouring some liquor into a shot glass.
The red light by the phone on the wall behind him starts to light up, and he turns around to pick it up. Holding it to his ear, he nods a few times before hanging up and then leans in to say something in Beau’s ear. Then he walks out from behind the bar and runs up the stairs. I watch him run across the breezeway and then disappear, knowing he’s going to Tyson’s office.
“So how about that drink?”
He tosses a shot glass up in the air, and it flips a few times before he catches it. “What would you like?”
“Surprise me.” Not like it’s going to matter. I just want to numb my thoughts and erase the fact that I’ve fucked up.
“Drink or shot?” he questions.
“Shots.”
He raises a brow. “As in more than one?”
I nod.
* * *
I slam the glass down,gasping at the burn in my throat. It’s on fire. Feels like I’ve swallowed lava. I shove the empty shot glass across the bar, and it tips over, rolling on its side. Beau catches it before it falls off the edge.
“Another.” I nod to him.
He laughs. “I think four is enough. They all haven’t even hit you yet. Tyson will kill me if I have to call him to carry you upstairs.” Then he turns away from me and walks over to a couple.
I sit back and watch them. She’s a pretty blond, looks like a Barbie doll replica with her hair up in a high pony, a pink sequined dress, and perfectly done makeup with winged eyeliner. He, however, looks like a gym rat. Muscles too big for his shirt, and the guy doesn’t even have a neck.
It makes me think of the woman from that night I waited on her. What she thought of before she died. I wonder the same about my sister. Was she scared? Did she have time to cry? Was it quick? I pray that when I die, I don’t see it coming.
She smiles at the bartender and nods when Beau responds. The guy bows his chest and starts to point at him, but she places her hand on his chest, tapping it before he takes a step back.
I watch in fascination at how the little contact has such an effect on him. He’s obviously the jealous type. I get it. I can see why people are that way. Why they don’t want to share what they have. I’ve never felt that way until I found out that Bethany has a thing for my husband.
Beau seems to ignore it and goes to make their drinks. The woman turns into the guy she came with. He cups her face and lowers his lips to hers, devouring her in front of everyone as if they’re the only two in the room.
He turns her around to where her back is up against the bar, and he presses her into it.
My thighs tighten, and my breath quickens when she lifts her left leg to wrap around his hip. His hand drops to her thigh, and I see him slide it up to her ass, pushing her dress up in the process. She stops the kiss, pulling away and tilting her head back, and his lips go to her jawline.
Heat rushes up my spine as I watch them practically fuck right in front of me. Tyson was fucking me multiple times a day to nothing for the last ten days. My body is begging for some kind of physical contact.
“Here you go,” Beau yells, and the guy pulls away from her.
She slumps against it, wiping the corners of her mouth while the guy hands Beau a card to open a tab. Whatever concern he felt toward the cute bartender, now gone. Because she reassured him that she belongs to him.
Men aren’t that complicated. I’d never had the chance to be with one before Tyson, but it’s not hard to see how easily they can be manipulated.
I turn toward the bar and place my elbows on it while my hands fan my face. I look up at the mirror and see I’m flushed.
“You okay, Lake?” Beau notices and frowns. “Need some water?”
I shake my head and straighten my shoulders. “Another shot.”
He frowns. “Lake, I don’t think…”
“Just one more. Please?” I stick my bottom lip out.
He smiles. “One more. Then you’re cut off.”
