“Is he cute?” Camilla inquired.
“Cute? No. Gorgeous. I hate him.”
Camilla burst into drunken laughter. “I meant the kitten.”
“Oh.” I blinked away the fog of my own inebriation. “He’s a tangerine pom-pom with button eyes. Of course he’s cute. I think it’s a he. Though, I’m not positive on that.”
“I love cats,” Camilla reflected, her eyes going dreamy.
“You want it? It’s yours.”
“Really?”
“No. It’s a living, breathing creature. I can’t give it away. I just don’t understand why he would give me a responsibility like that. I don’t want kids. Why would I want a kitten?”
“Maybe because they’re soft and fuzzy with low responsibility. You can leave them home for eight hours a day and not have to worry about them pooping in the house. They’re pretty independent, actually.”
“You’re not just saying that to make me feel better? I should guilty that I left it in my apartment all alone?”
“A million times, yes! He’s fine!”
Staring down into my drink, I felt a pang of guilt. “God, I’m sad. It’s Friday night and I’m sitting here discussing a fucking cat over my beer.”
“And here we thought you were harboring some dark secrets.” Camilla elbowed me, nearly knocking me from the stool. She burst into another bout of laughter.
Secrets, yes, but not dark. Maybe a little dark. Crops and ball-gags weren’t light and casual conversation. Sliding back onto the stool, I rested my toes along the foot rail. When I looked up again, Camilla’s amusement had faded.
“This place isn’t exactly jumping,” she observed, perusing the scene around her. The place wasn’t deserted, but it wasn’t the type of crowd either of us was anticipating. It wasn’t the kind of joint that you went for a casual beer while you watched the game. It was the kind of place you went to drown away your troubles, and either passed out or woke up on a cot in a holding cell the next morning. “Know anywhere better to go?”
“No, my brothers will be there.”
“Brothers?”
“No, not a chance,” I said, noting the sudden interest in her tone. “Don’t even think about it.”
“But—”
“No!” I exclaimed, insistently. “They’d chew you up and spit you out faster than you can blink an eye. Then we couldn’t be friends because there would always be this awkward tension between us because you did the nasty with one of my brothers.”
Frowning, Camilla dropped her eyes to her drink. She swirled it around, spinning her glass in small circles. Drawing some internal conclusion, she lifted it to her lips and downed the contents in one long draw. “Let’s go. I know a better place.”
“Where?” Standing, I slid my arms into my jacket and lifted it over my shoulders then freed my hair from beneath the collar.
“Funk 49.”
“We’ll never get inside,” I objected, grasping at straws. I hadn’t told her anything about Jake. I’d told her my ex sent me a kitten. That was the extent of the conversation.
“I wouldn’t, but you would.” Grabbing her purse from the footrest between her feet, she slid from her stool and tucked it under her arm. “You’re my ticket in.”
“What makes you think I can get inside?”
Camilla snorted, her eyes travelling down my frame. “A blonde in a tight, red dress…call it intuition.”
“I can’t,” I confessed. “My ex owns the place.”
“We can’t go here—we can’t go there,” she slurred. “You’re being a drag, Paisley.”
“I’m being a drag?” I objected. “At least I showed up.”
Digging through her clutch, she extracted a twenty and dropped it onto the bar. “I didn’t expect the others to come. They never do.”
If I would’ve known that…
“Come on! Please! I’ll even pay for the cab.” She pulled another bill from her purse and waved it in my face.
“Fine, now put that away before you get mugged.”
“Thank you!” she squealed. “You won’t regret this!” Stumbling forward, she planted a kiss on my cheek. I had to grab her elbows to hold her up. Somebody in the back wolf-whistled over our awkward embrace. I quickly pushed her away, holding onto her until she was balanced.
“I’m going to use the ladies room while you call the cab.” I started crossing the bar, making my way to the bathroom. The floor was sticky. Peanut shells crunched under my heels.
The bathroom wasn’t much better. Scraps of toilet paper covered the floor. The once-white stalls were covered in sharpie marker and innumerous years of filth. On the wall hung one of those crank machines with one continuous loop of cloth towel. It’d seen better days.
Good thing I hadn’t actually come in to use the bathroom. I’d come in to clear my head and figure out how to get out of this. The answer was, I wasn’t. Pax was somehow in cahoots with Peter, and Peter, for some reason, was helping Jake. My big brothers, who’d made it their life mission to chase the boys away from their little sister, were helping Jake, who fucked me over not once, but twice. I mean…can you see the fucking irony?
Anyhow, I had no one to call. My brothers had traded sides.
Well fuck ‘em all. I’d been a mess long enough. I owed it to myself to have a good time. Damn if I wasn’t going to have my just desserts.
Applying a fresh coat of red to my lips, I pressed them together, and stole a last glance in the mirror. I needed a drink, a few of them to tide me over. A little liquid courage for the car ride there.
Tugging the door to the restroom open, I held my head high as I strode through the bar. Half way through the room, I was intercepted by a large, burly man wearing a jean jacket covered in all sorts of patches. “Hey, sweetheart. Hold up a minute.” Hesitantly, I stopped and gave a weak smile. “You’re dragging a little tp on you heel, there.” His gaze dropped to my feet, as did mine. I blushed furiously and detached the paper with my other foot.
“Damn it. Fucking bathroom.”
“Could be worse. Could be hanging out the crack of your ass.”
“That would be my luck.” I gave a mortified smile and rushed back to the bar, my head hanging a little lower than it was a few seconds earlier. “If that was an omen on how my night was about to go, I was in big trouble.”
Yanking my bag open, I pulled a twenty out and slapped it on the bar. “A double shot of Jack, please.” I slammed it down in one large gulp. “Another.” The second went down a little slower, exaggerating the burn of the first.
“Woot!” Camilla cheered, clapping me on the back. “I knew you had a set of balls! Come on, girl, we’re going to have some f.u.n.” She spelled it out, going borderline geek on me.
Looping her arm around mine, she led me outside. The cab was waiting by the curb. Before she dove into the back seat, she planted another kiss on my cheek.
I was already regretting it.
Twenty minute later, we rolled to a stop outside of Funk 49. The line wrapped the front of the building and slightly around the corner. I climbed from the back seat stood to the side, waiting for Camilla, who was a little better off than I was, thanks to those last few shots.
Frankly, that was a little scary. I was quickly learning Camilla was all volume and no content. The only thing keeping me from ditching her was the prospect of finding another man so I could show Jake that I had moved on. I wasn’t some chump that was going to cave over something small and furry. Not after he burned me twice. He was going to have to work a little harder before I forgave him.
If I forgave him.
I had no intention to do any such thing.
“Look at the line.” Camilla observed, climbing out of the cab behind me. “We’ll never get in.”
“We’ll get in,” I assured. I just wasn’t sure how.
From a short distance away, I head a sharp whistle. Cade Mathers lifted his arm and flicked his wrist in a smooth rendition of a wave. With a wide smile, he strode toward us.
There was our ticket inside.
Camilla took one look at the lumberjack and moaned low in her throat. “Is he coming this way? Oh Jesus Christ. He is.”
“Hey, pet,” Cade purred in greeting. He flashed a smile, showing a row of perfect teeth behind his well-groomed beard. I was fairly sure there were dimples under there somewhere.
Camilla made an unintelligible noise, to which Cade paid no attention.
“Cade,” I returned.
“Going in?”
“Yeah.”
“Let me escort you, then.” He held out his arm. I grasped hold, admittedly appreciative for the offer. My heels were proving to be too much to handle. “You didn’t introduce your friend.”
“She’s a coworker,” I confessed quietly. “I felt obligated.”
“New employee?”
“I am, actually. The girls at the office invited me out.”
“It’s a hell of a welcoming party.”
“Oh, we’re just getting started,” I laughed, looking up from under my lashes. “I figured we would pick up a few along the way.”
“Jake meeting you here?”
“Jake and I aren’t together.”
“Then you’re with me tonight.” Cade dropped his arm and placed his hand along the small of my back. A few seconds later, he was guiding me through door, pressing a bill into the bouncer’s hand as we passed. I grabbed Camilla’s hand at the last second, dragging her with us.
“You know where my table is,” Cade said into my ear. “I’ll order us some drinks. What’re you having?”
“Jack.”
Cade looked at Camilla, who responded with a quick, “Moscow Mule.” Seriously enthralled, she stared as he turned and made his way to the bar. “Holy. Fucking. Shit.”
“Don’t even think about it, Camilla.”
“Whhhhhyyyyyy?” she pouted.
“He’s a porn star.”
“Are you—”
“Yes!” I exclaimed. “I’m serious. I don’t know him. I was just getting us inside.” Cade was the perfect tool for getting back at Jake. He probably wouldn’t even care. “In fact, you better drink your mule and circulate while you have the chance. I don’t know how long we’ll be staying.”
“You suck.”
“I warned you, my ex owns the place.”
“Jake,” she surmised.
“Yes.”
Expecting more of an explanation, she rolled her eyes in frustration. “Does everyone always have to pry everything out of you?”
“Yes.”
Pouting, Camilla sat back in her chair and perused the dancefloor. A few hours into the night, everyone had had a few drinks in them, and were tearing it up. The band was good, more pop than rock, but had the perfect blend of rhythm and funk to keep the audience moving. Camilla and I were both dancing in our seats.
Reaching around me, Cade placed two shot glasses and a few bottles of water on the table. After handing Camilla her drink, he pried open the bottle of Jack and poured each of us a shot. “What’s your name, sugar?”
Camilla met his eyes. “Camilla,” she stammered. “Cam.”
“Cam,” Cade gestured over his left shoulder. “This is William.” He was totally utilizing his wingman. I could see it in his expression. Nonetheless, Camilla blushed and shook William’s hand.
“You look familiar. I think I’ve seen you somewhere before,” she said dumbly. I was sure she had. His pictures were all over facebook. They called him Wild Bill Hitchcock. For obvious reasons. He usually had a towel or some length of cloth hanging from said appendage.
Smoothly, William asked her to dance. Camilla agreed, first stealing a long draft of her drink. With a nervous smile, she headed off to the dancefloor and disappeared into the crowd.
“Drink up,” Cade said, gathering my attention. He pushed a shot glass toward me. “I want to see how you move on the dancefloor.”
“Oh, I’m terrible. No soul.” Lifting the shot glass to my mouth, I threw my head back and downed it in a quick gulp. I held it out for a refill.
A moment later, we were on the dancefloor. By the time Cade found a sufficient space, I was already moving to the beat. Raptly, he circled behind me, lining his body against mine.
“Slower, pet.” Gradually, he matched the sway of my hips until we were moving in unison like a hand in a glove. “There—that’s fucking it.”
Raising my arms up behind my head, I looped my hands around the back of his neck. Cade rested his hands along my ribcage, just below my breasts. Slowly, they travelled downward until he grasped my hips and pulled my ass snugly against his groin.
“I thought you said you had no soul,” he said into my ear. Shivers ran down my body, his beard tickling my ear and neck.
“I wouldn’t hardly consider this dancing.”
“No? What would you call it?” He was amused.
“Exhibitionism.”
Cade laughed. I knew because I could feel the shaking of his chest against my back. “Pet, I can teach you a thing or two about exhibitionism.”
“I bet.”
“You watched me the night we met. Did you enjoy the show I put on for you?”
“That’s irrelevant. I’m not one for sharing. When I’m with a man, I want to be the center of attention.”
“Trust me. You were the center of my attention.” His lips pressed against the corner of my jaw and caught it with the edge of his teeth. Tempering the sting, he chased the sharp scrape with a flick of his tongue.
“Cade.”
“Come on, pet. I can make your boy Jake look like a kitten in bed.”
My back stiffened, abruptly sober. I fell still, the music and band forgotten. Stepping away from Cade, I excused myself. “Sorry, I need something to drink.”
Back at the table, I poured another shot as Cade straddled his barstool and leaned forward. “So the two of you were an item.”
“No.”
“Then why is he a sore subject?”
“Do you really want to discuss Jake Whalen?”
Cade considered that briefly. “No.”
“Neither do I.”
“Point taken.” Taking the bottle from my hand, Cade poured himself a drink. “Are you using me to get back at him?”
Guiltily, I looked up from under my lashes. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“No,” Cade laughed, amused. “I just figured you might as well do it thoroughly. I could take you upstairs. We could put on one hell of a show for him.”
“Tempting, but that’s how I got myself into this mess in the first place. I’d feel like a pinball, rebounding off one bad relationship to another.”
“I’m not asking for a relationship.”
“Neither was I.” It just sort of happened while Jake and I were combating with one another. When I wasn’t actively arguing, I was studiously watching him. He was good looking, funny, generous, modest, and honorable to a fucking fault.
“So you were an item.” I looked up, found Cade smirking.
“If you feel the need to define it. We were an item twice with a lot of enmity in between.” Ignoring the spinning in my head, I threw back another shot of Jack. Cade raised his eyebrows at me.
“Might want to pace yourself.”
“Worried about me?” I snorted, turning my attention to the dance floor. The last thing I needed was another brotherly acquaintance.
“I’m not that altruistic. More like I don’t want to lose a chance to change your mind about coming upstairs with me.” Dropping one foot to the floor, he rose from his stool and towered over me. “I want you in bed, pet.”
My hands felt suddenly clammy. I cleared my throat. “No offense, but I’d have to be drunk before I got into bed with you.”
“Is the notion that unappealing?”
A shaky smile wavered across my face. “I’ve seen you in action. I know when I’m out of my league.”
“Then you’d better drink up.” He dropped his head, pressing his lips to mine. His kiss
was fast and brutal, taking what he wanted before I could gather an objection. Cupping my jaw, he held my mouth open for the taking, plundering my lips and tongue with nips and teases.
I flattened my palms on his chest and pushed. He didn’t give.
Sliding his knee between mine, he lifted me over his hips. My dress gave all it could, stretching to its limit. His hands roamed down my waist and cupped my ass. His long fingers brushed along the edge of my panties, tracing the hem of lace. I managed to muster a complaint, though stifled by his kiss. Panic began to set in.
Sliding my fingers into his hair, I pulled his head back, and bit his lip along the way. Cade sucked a sharp breath through his teeth and retracted his hands. My feet dropped back to the ground. Quickly, I tugged my dress back down my thighs, hoping we didn’t draw an audience.
Cade stared down over his high cheekbones, a hungry gleam in his eye. “Just testing you, pet. No worries. You’ll do fine.”
In his fucking dreams.
Smoothing my dress, I combed my hand through my hair, and pasted a smile on my face. “I need to use the restroom. I’ll be right back.”
I glanced at my wristlet on the table, but Cade picked it up before I could reach for it. “I’ll just hold this for you.” He slid it into the inside pocket of his sport jacket. “Wouldn’t want it to get lost or stolen.”
My jaw dropped. I quickly snapped it closed. “My compact is inside. I’d like to fix my makeup.”
“You look beautiful, pet. Hurry back.”
Breathing heavily through my nose, I made my way into the crowd. I hadn’t realized exactly how drunk I already was until my head spun and I lost my balance. I grabbed ahold of the body closest to me, who—unhappily—shoved me away while tossing me an acidic glare.
“Sorry,” I slurred, holding my hands up in the air. “I’m really sorry.” I was able to make it to the bathroom, where I splashed a few handfuls of cold water on my face. It had little effect on the fog impairing my vision. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Water, I needed to drink some water. Cupping my hands, I placed them under the faucet and filled them with water. I was able to swallow several mouthfuls before I grew nauseated, and couldn’t get any more down without gagging. This so wasn’t good. I needed a clear head.
Baby Did a Bad Bad Thing (Hautboy Series Book 3) Page 25
