“That’s right, he can,” I spit the words out at the sluts ready and willing to drag him off to a dark bedroom, hall, or corner. “I’ll have you ladies know he’s with the sheriff’s department, and he happens to be packing heat!”
They coo twice as hard, and I think Ronnie just fanned herself.
The blonde runs her finger down Noah’s tie. “I just love a man in uniform. Even when he’s not wearing one.” Her smile is all teeth. “Especially when he’s not wearing one. What do you say, handsome? Want to play?”
Before I can initiate a proper takedown, a man the size of a refrigerator appears behind me. His cologne is so strong I can taste it.
“Hey there, beautiful,” he rumbles as he picks up my hand. “I’ve been watching you since you walked in.”
Everett growls, “She’s with me.”
“I’d let you watch,” the refrigerator dares to offer.
Percy shrieks. “LOTTIE LEMON, ABORT MISSION! ABORT! Everett is going to blow his top!”
“Oh no,” I whisper.
“Oh yes,” Ronnie purrs. She slides closer to Everett, pressing against his side, running her hand up his arm. “Time to play, Mr. Sexy. I’ve been dying to get my hands on a judge.”
The blonde wraps both arms around Noah’s. “And I’ll take the detective. I’ve always wanted to be interrogated.”
The refrigerator dares to pull me out of my husband’s arms. “Ready to have some fun?”
The music drops lower. Someone dims the lights even further. A woman giggles. Someone moans.
Everett’s expression shifts from hostile to absolutely murderous in about two seconds flat. “Take a step back from my wife or risk losing a limb,” he thunders.
The refrigerator doesn’t blink, and the next thing I know,Everett lands his fist over the man’s jaw. A loud pop goes off, the man staggers back, and I grab both Noah and Everett and make a mad dash for the door. Okay, so it’s more of a very aggressive conga line toward the exit as we mow through clusters of startled party-goers.
“Where are you going? The game just started,” Ronnie shouts after us. “Don’t you want to know who you’ll end up with?”
“I know exactly who I’m ending up with,” Everett says, his voice dropping to that dangerous level that makes lawyers sweat.
“But the bowl—” Ronnie starts.
“We don’t care about the bowl,” Everett says.
“Carlotta!” I shout over my shoulder.
“Do we have to leave?” She’s sitting on one man’s lap while another man rubs her shoulders, and a third offers her champagne. “I was just getting comfortable!”
“YES!” all three of us shout at once.
“Fine,” she grouses. “You know what they say—every party needs a party pooper. And this one’s got three.” She extracts herself with visible reluctance, blowing kisses to her admirers who actually do look devastated.
We make it to the fishbowl, and Noah dumps the entire thing onto a side table, keys and phones cascading everywhere in a metallic avalanche.
“You’re really leaving?” Ronnie calls out, looking more amused than offended. “I was just starting to enjoy myself!”
“Thanks for the information!” I shout back, frantically pawing through keys. “And the trauma!”
“The trauma was complimentary!” she laughs.
Percy swoops through the elevator doors ahead of us. “MOVE, MOVE, MOVE! Before someone tries to partner swap with a ghost! Oh, the wiggling and jiggling Jell-O I witnessed!”
Flesh-colored at that.
Everett shakes his head. “That was...”
