“Hi,” she said, her voice small.
“Can I say hi too?” Kit, dressed in her signature goth style with her lilac hair pulled into two space buns, asked.
“Hey, Kit.”
“So, we are planning on going dancing,” Layna went on. “Do you want to come?”
“I’m on guard shift tonight.”
Layna pouted.
“Well, maybe we can dance here to start!” she declared, jumping off the bar. Her margarita sloshed on her hand, and she lifted it to lick it off before making her way to the stereo to change the music.
“Car fixed?” I asked, painfully aware of Kit’s gaze sliding between me, Layna, and Gracie, and trying to keep it casual.
“Yeah, Uncle Seth got it fixed and back at my apartment before I even woke up.”
I nodded at that.
I wasn’t typically one for small talk. It wasn’t something that had ever bothered me before. But I suddenly wished I could think of something, anything to say.
Especially when Gracie lifted the margarita glass to her lips and took a sip, temporarily staining her lips red. And, fuck, I wanted to move closer and lick the taste off.
“Yes!” a cheer went up through the girls. Who, despite having wildly different personalities and, I would assume, tastes in music, all seemed jazzed about whatever pop song was currently blasting through the speakers.
Layna rushed forward to drag Gracie down from the bar, making her teeter on her heels.
My hand itched to reach out to steady her, but I forced myself to ball them into fists instead.
“Here, you take this,” Layna demanded, plucking the drink from Gracie’s hand to shove it at me.
I took it and leaned back against the bar, sipping the last of the contents, knowing intimately what Gracie’s lips would taste like right then.
Then I was tortured with the image of the girls dancing.
In particular, Gracie dancing.
Her hips swaying, her ass wiggling around. And, yeah, it seemed like Gracie simply never wore a goddamn bra. Because there was no way she had one on with the way her tits were bouncing under the thin material of her romper.
I forced my gaze away, studying my damn shoes, the paint on the walls, a ball of dust that missed the vacuum earlier.
Anything but her.
I couldn’t say if I was more relieved or disappointed when the girls finally wanted to break free of the walls and hit the bar.
“Yo,” I said, stopping Cain as he started to move past me.
“Yeah?”
“You keep a close eye on them,” I demanded, knowing my tone was way too damn serious, but unable to help it.
The shooting.
Chased by drunk guys.
Gracie had been through enough already.
“I got it,” Cain said, his tone so serious that I knew he would see it as his job to stay sober and act as private security.
