She didn’t need to, because she was a confident woman. A confident woman who studied a chip missing from the tabletop. Except, one last look and then she’d be done.
Brek moved to shake hands and smack the drummer on the back. Much better than his hand on Chelsea’s waistband. The guy handed him a guitar. Brek played a few chords.
He was pure rock ’n’ roll in that moment. Long hair, guitar strap around his neck, playing some song Velma recognized but couldn’t put her finger on. And when he glanced up and caught her looking? It felt like he played only for her.
She ripped her gaze away.
“Holy crap, he played that for you. Right in front of her.” Claire sucked in her bottom lip. “Like,rightin front of his date.”
“He’s got an amazing voice.” Heather’s expression went dreamy. “We need to help him ditch her.”
Claire nodded in agreement. “Nicely, of course.”
Brek had stopped playing.
Velma couldn’t bring herself to look back to the stage. “This is ridiculous, he’s on a date. He doesn’t want an offer of bedroom benefits from me when he’s on a date.”
The waitress dropped three red plastic baskets filled with oversized hamburgers and fries on the table.
“This is a complication, that’s all.” Heather squirted ketchup on the waxed paper lining her basket.
“I should go home.” Velma couldn’t think about food right now. “Deflated” was the word of the night.
“No. It’s girls’ night. We’ll eat and go somewhere else. I’m thinking massages at that place in the mall.” Claire swirled her ketchup with a fry.
Velma held the burger to her lips and dropped it without taking a bite, her gaze shifting to Brek and Chelsea. He’d left the stage. Now he had his arms crossed, feet propped on a vacant stool, listening to something Chelsea said. Chelsea was a hand talker. It didn’t seem to bother Brek, but she’d better be careful or she’d knock over his Coors.
Velma’s chest rose and fell quickly. Fight or flight and no way was she taking on a biker babe.
“I need to use the ladies’ room.” Velma slid off the stool and headed down the hall leading to the bathrooms.
Get it together, Velma.
Brek was allowed to date. Of course he was. She just didn’t want a front-row seat.
An intoxicated guy poured himself from the men’s room, stumbling straight into her. He wobbled a finger in her direction, but even his finger wag looked drunk. “Watch your step, sweetie.”
She reached out to steady him when he tottered backward.
“Plans for tonight, muffin?” His drunkard smile looked more like a sneer.
“Yup.” She laughed what she hoped was a dismissive chuckle and turned on her heel to go back to the table, grab her friends, and get out of there.
The guy’s hands wrapped around her hips, twisted her, and he pulled her against his crotch.
“Stop.” She lurched forward to get away, but his fingertips ground in, holding her in place while he rubbed himself against her backside. The bile in her stomach curdled.
“Let go.” She steadied her breaths while she shoved at his hands. He gripped her harder. Her pulse sped, and she kicked at his shin with the heel of her shoe.
“You heard her.” Brek pushed past and wrapped his hand around drunk guy’s neck. Apparently, he squeezed, because the guy gasped for air, released his grip on her, and clawed at Brek’s hand.
He pushed forward, the idiot smashing against the Bud Light sign on the wall. Brek forced the guy’s chin in her direction. “See her?” Jaw tight, Brek jerked his head toward Velma.
Drunk guy nodded, his glazed eyes huge.
Well, huh. She had never had someone growl on her behalf before.
Brek slammed his palm against the wall next to the man’s face.
