Micah looked down at another empty glass. How many had it been? Who was counting, anyway? “Well, you’re about to find out. I cannot be held responsible for my actions tonight.”
“Oh, jeez.”
“Hey, that girl over there keeps checking you out.”
“Yeah. So?”
“So, I’ve seen you look at her, too. You should go talk to her.”
“Can’t. I’m talking to you.”
“So I’m the lucky one tonight?”
“Guess so.” His piercing gray eyes were trained on her. Evaluating her. She must have passed. “Wanna play a game?”
“A game?”
“Yeah. It’s kind of a game.”
“Like what?”
“Let’s try and read people based off of what they’re drinking.”
She hoped he could read the perplexity on her face. Was he being serious?
“Come on. It will be fun.”
“Okay. You start.”
“Okay, see that guy over there? The one in the red shirt? Watch him. He was just looking at the list of margaritas, but put it away after he noticed the hot bartender. Fifty dollars says he orders whiskey straight.”
“Oh, so now this is turning into a money game? Okay, you’re on.”
Micah watched as the bartender handed the man in the red shirt a shot glass filled with amber liquid. He sat it down in front of him, where it remained untouched.
“Why isn’t he drinking it?”
“He can’t handle it. That’s why he was looking at the margarita list.”
She rolled her eyes. This is dumb.
Josh took a long draw from his beer as a beautiful woman sauntered past their table, flashing him a come-and-get-me smile. Micah sat there with her mouth hanging open at the audacity of the woman. Was Micah really so irrelevant that the woman didn’t consider her to be with Josh? She wasn’t, but still. Seriously? Josh smiled back but moved on. His eyes moved back to the bar, past the man with the untouched shot of whiskey, scanning the other patrons.
“Okay, it’s your turn.”
“No. I’m not any good at this.”
“Okay...see the bombshell at the end of the bar?” Micah’s eyes narrowed as he accentuated the word bombshell. “She’s been nursing that Corona for about half an hour now. She’s alone, looking good and drinking light? I can almost guarantee that she has no intentions of leaving this bar alone tonight. She’ll start throwing them back more heavily once some guy starts buying them for her. Then she’ll pretend she doesn’t want to go anywhere, but if some lucky guy reads the signs right he’ll know that Miss Corona-with-Lime is ready to roll.”
“You are crazy. Do you always do this?” She watched as he shrugged his broad shoulders and nursed his Sam Adams. “What about me? What do my drinks say?”
“Well...your drinks tell me a couple of things. One, the variety of your drinks tells me that you steal people’s drinks and don’t pay for your own. And second, they say you won’t remember any of what I just said, anyway.”
“Well, then...why don’t you go buy one for Miss Corona-with-Lime? She’s already looked over here twice.” She was feeling saucy tonight. Josh noticed. Quirked his eyebrow, and gave her a smile.
“Someone has to keep you from making bad decisions tonight.”
“And you’re volunteering?”
“For now. As soon as you start to drive me nuts, I’m bailing.”
“Good to know I have such a great friend to count on in my time of need.”
“Any time.”
The alcohol was definitely starting to go to her head, making her feel all tingly and disjointed. Josh was starting to look a little hazy as he sat across from her giving her the most puzzling looks. He really was beautiful, reminded her of an iron sculpture in a way—masculine, rough, hard edges, but beautiful nonetheless. Even his eyes were metallic in essence: an odd shade of gray, sometimes taking on blue, sometimes green. Women seemed to love them. She found them piercing and cold. She had always preferred blue eyes, like Drew’s were.
A vivid memory swept over her. She gulped down the last of her drink and signaled for another. Josh looked as if he was about to ditch her. “Don’t leave me.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want guys bothering me.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. They’ll stay far away from you as long as you keep flashing that evil scowl. I think you are scaring everyone in this place, including me. I just need to get some water, and I have no idea where our waitress has run off to. I will be right back.”
The more she drank, the more she remembered. The more she remembered, the more she drank, an endless cycle of tequila and haunting memories. She and Drew had been high-school sweethearts, planning on forever. She hadn’t just lost her boyfriend that night. She’d lost the love of her life, the kids they would have had, the dream house and the hand that would have held hers as they grew old together. That accident had robbed her of her chance at happiness, stripped her of every dream and desire in one tragic move.
Oh, gawd. She was even starting to annoy herself. This was just pathetic. The tequila wasn’t working. It was only making it worse.
“Micah, you’re not looking so good.”
Well, Josh, you are starting to look really good.
Oh, my! Where did that come from?
Josh’s hand cupped her chin, lifting her face until she looked him in the eye. “How many have you had?”
“That’s irrelevant. Do you know Drew would have been twenty-eight? Can you believe that?”
“Yeah. It’s hard to imagine.”
“It’s like his image has been frozen in time. Forever eighteen.”
“Come on. We need to get you home.”
“I am fine, Josh. I am not drunk yet. I promise.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re wasted, like legit wasted. Can’t believe I didn’t stop you before now. You never drink. What’s gotten into you?” His hand wrapped around her arm, urging her to stand and helping her into her coat.
She didn’t get drunk. She was too much of a lady to act like the common drunken college students who littered this place. Then again, she had consumed a lot. Now that she thought about it, maybe she was drunk, because she could not remember just how many drinks she had had. The room tilted and she was forced to grab Josh for support. Maybe he was right. All she knew was her plan hadn’t worked; she hadn’t drunk enough to forget.
Copyright © 2014 by Tanya Wright
ISBN-13: 9781460334959
WHO’S AFRAID OF THE BIG BAD BOSS?
Copyright © 2014 by Nina Harrington
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's Afraid of the Big Bad Boss?
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