“So, no spilled milk?”
“She’s lactose intolerant.” I shrug. “I’m guessing that’s a sign.”
Carrie bursts out laughing, blowing a lock of hair out of her face.
I wince. “Strawberry tequila?”
“It’s a classic! That was just the last shot, though.”
“Right. Come on, let’s get you back to the table.” I try nudging her.
She leans back a little, giving me a slow once-over. She nods approvingly at my beige pants and blue shirt, until her gaze stops on my chest. Her nose wrinkles, and a disembodied groan leaves her mouth.
“So, youdidwear a tie, after all. I hate it.”
And with that, she takes off across the stage again, shaking her shoulders and wriggling her hips like I’m not even there. I look like an asshole, just standing here like a statue—but there’s no way I’m leaving her here alone. Could I just throw her over my shoulder?
She keeps throwing glances my way, stepping forward then back, like she can’t decide whether she wants to get close to me or not.
She makes up her mind on the chorus and loops her arms around my neck. My hands find her hips and follow their slow, sensual movements. I have this furious urge to kiss her again and bury my nose in her curls.
Her fingers brush the nape of my neck. “So, what’s your backup plan?”
You, I think.Just you.I stare down into her face. She has no idea what she does to me.
“I think I’ll stick to theory, for now.”
“What a waste of time, huh?”
“I’ll do better next time, I swear.”
She thinks for a moment, and I wish I knew what was going on in her head. I wish she’d tell me she never wants me to take another girl to dinner ever again.
She slides her hands up to my collar and slowly starts loosening my tie. I only wore it to piss her off, and I’m getting a kick out of watching her fumble with the knot. I never would’ve guessed it would be her hands on it tonight—but as it turns out, that’s exactly how I wanted it.
Once she’s tugged it loose, she keeps hold of both ends of the tie, moving in time with the song, stepping back and near strangling me as she twirls one way and then the next.
I drop my head and duck under the loop, grabbing her by the waist and hoisting her over my shoulder, feeling her wriggle like crazy while she sings along with Shakira at the top of her lungs.Is the DJ doing this on purpose?
“?‘Whenever… Wherever…!’?”
The gang gives her a standing ovation as I stagger to the table.
“Hard night, huh?”
Lewis pulls out a chair, and I dump Carrie into the seat.
“Tell me about it.”
“Hey, you! I’m a free woman!” Carrie screeches, nearly poking Lewis’s eye out.
“Sure you are, Ms. Wolinski,” Lewis says, patting her on the head. “I never doubted it.”
He shoots me a “Good luck with that” kind of look. He has no idea how right he is, but I’m a stubborn guy when there’s a challenge to take on.
19CARRIE
I’m sandwiched between Donovan and Lewis, staring straight ahead of me, stiff as a board. I dropped into the Java with a single goal in mind—get over the chaos Wolinski has sparked inside me, flush it all out with a steady stream of alcohol. Everything was ticking along nicely until he rocked up with his shirt and pants and tie and all. Obviously, he looks great.Obviously.
