Jess smirks. “I like her.”
Charlie’s mouth twitches like he wants to argue but doesn’t. “Fine,” he says. “But if this goes to hell, I’m holding you responsible.”
I’m a grown woman. I snort. “Whatever.”
He makes a sound that’s a cross between a growl and a laugh.
Even as Jess pours, my eyes sweep the room. Stage with an impressive stack of amps. Pool table and dart boards in another room. Outside, I can spy a deck and wonder where it leads to. The customers lend to the atmosphere perfectly. There are guys who look like they’ve been coming here since the invention of alcohol and a group of women in sparkly sashes giggling too loud.
It’s the kind of night where anything might happen and nothing will be remembered correctly unless someone’s taking a video. Once Jess delivers our drinks, I proclaim, “It’s perfect.”
Charlie lifts his beer, keeping his body angled toward me. His thigh brushes mine under the bar. “How’s your week been?” His eyes are steady, but the question isn’t casual. It’s an opening. A check-in. A quiet way of asking if I’m still okay with us. Him.
“Better now,” I say.
His gaze drifts over my face, lingering on my mouth like it’s a problem he’d like to solve. He watches me for a beat. Then he nods once. Accepting.
“Okay,” he says. “Then what are your plans for after that tequila tonight?”
I swirl my drink. “A desire to watch you lose control.”
He huffs. “Are you propositioning me?”
“Charlie.” I let the word drip with disbelief. “You’re a menace.”
His smile flashes—quick, bright, gone too soon—but it does something to me anyway. I can feel my body respond, heat gathering low and slow. We trade quips and are halfway through our first drinks when I feel him tense up.
That’s when something different crawls up the back of my neck. Glancing over my shoulder, a man a few stools down watches me with the kind of arrogance that makes my skin itch. Mid-forties and rotund, if I’m being generous. Red-faced. A little too comfortable in his beer sweats. He lifts his glass in a lazy salute.
I whip around to face Charlie. His expression doesn’t change, but his posture does. The air around him tightens, like a warning.
“Don’t let someone like that ruin our evening.”
“I wasn’t going to start anything,” he says mildly.
“You were absolutely going to do something.”
“I’m merely observing.”
“Mm-hmm.”
But of course the man can’t do simple and stay away. No. Instead he shoves away from the bar, grabs his beer, spilling half of it down the front of his shirt. Charlie murmurs, “Incoming.”
“Of course.” The second he’s next to us, he squints one eye at me, not even bothering to acknowledge Charlie’s presence.
Big mistake.
“Hey,” he says, voice slurred with too many beers. “I’m wanna make your night interesting.”
Charlie’s hand lands on my thigh to let me know he’s there if I need him. I smile politely. “My night’s already interesting with the man I’m with. Thanks, but no thanks.”
The man laughs, like I’ve said something cute. “Nah, sweetheart, I meaninteresting. I haven’t wanted to jack off to curves like yours since?—”
I tune him out as Charlie shifts. Not anything dramatic, like chairs falling down, but enough I know he isn’t going to let this go on for more than another minute. I open my mouth to tell thisguy to beat it when the guy’s eyes flick to Charlie and back to me before making the mistake of dismissing Charlie again.
“And what I could do from behind,” I catch him droning on. Unfortunately, he leans closer making me want to pinch my nose shut at the sour smell of sweat and beer. “Holding onto that mane of yours? Fuck, yeah. You’d forget your own name.”
My cheeks heat—not from embarrassment, but from the sheer audacity of this buffoon. The statement is obscene.
