by Sterling, J.
Rachel growled and narrowed her eyes. “Probably.”
“I knew it. How are we even friends?”
“Your life would be so boring without me,” Rachel said as she threw out her hands. “Plus, you’d have no culture!”
As Jess covered her mouth with her hand, I laughed. “I wasn’t looking at anyone. You know I have a girlfriend.”
“Who isn’t blond, right?” Rachel asked jokingly.
I shook my head. “Nope. Not blond.”
“Why isn’t she ever here? I’ve never seen her before. Do you have a picture?” Rachel bounced in her chair, getting a little too animated. She was like a Latin cocker spaniel, if there were such a thing, hopping around, tail wagging, peeing on the floor in excitement.
“Leave him alone, Rach,” Jess said, and I shot her a thankful look.
“On that note, I’m going to make the rounds. You two try to stay out of trouble. Mostly you.” I pointed at Rachel. “Don’t start a bar fire with Ryan or anything.”
“I’d do anything that boy asked. Fires included,” she shouted at me, but I was already walking away from them and straight toward Claudia. Who was anything but blond or typical.
No, Claudia was exotic. She was cultured and classy, and downright beautiful in every way. The shape of her body, the curve of her hips, and her ample breasts were what guys dreamed of. But for me, that wasn’t it. It was more the way she carried herself, so self-assured and confident. And her eyes. I saw those eyes in my head more times than I cared to admit.
As I neared, I could hear the men flirting with them, doing their best to run some sort of game, but Claudia wasn’t buying into it. I knew it by the tone of her voice, which sounded bored. For some reason, that made me ridiculously happy, and I had no business being that happy.
“Frank!” Claudia jumped up as soon as she saw me and moved through the throng of guys effortlessly. They all turned to see who had her attention.
Yeah, it’s me, motherfuckers.
She practically leaped into my arms, and I held her all too willingly. Nothing felt better in this moment than that woman in my grasp, no matter how wrong it should have felt. Her body fit mine like it was made for it, each curve melting against mine. I inhaled the scent of her hair as it spilled around me. I had no idea what it smelled like, exactly; I just knew that it smelled good.
“Hey there.” I smiled as I released her. “These guys bothering you?”
She cast them a quick look before focusing those beautiful brown eyes on me. “Nah, they’re harmless. Just typical, is all.”
I leaned toward her, my body feeling like it was way too far away from hers, when the reality was it was probably way too fucking close. “Typical how?”
“Oh, you know. All talk about their expensive cars and their fancy jobs. Apparently, they have more money than God.”
I laughed at how she mimicked their voices, and tried to read her into reaction to them. “You’re not into cocky rich boys?”
“Not really.” She smiled at me. “I do like men who work hard and value what they do, but not because they want to show it all off. Don’t get me wrong, Frank.” She placed her hand on my chest, and the heat from her skin instantly warmed me. “I like nice things, but not at the expense of what truly matters.”
“And what’s that?”
She dropped her hand and cocked her head. “Your eyes are so pretty.”
Shit. Was she drunk?
She shook her head. “Sorry, I . . .” She frowned, stumbling over her words. “What did you ask me? I swear I’m not drunk. You’re just distracting, is all.”
In that second, I felt like a million bucks. “I’m distracting?” I started to compliment her further, but stopped myself by clearing my throat. “I asked what you think truly matters.”
“Oh, right!” She pointed a finger in the air. “Not money. Sure, it’s nice to have, and it does make things a lot easier. But I’d rather be happy. I require honesty and trust in my relationships. And I want the man in my life to have passion not just for his work, but for me too. I need passion. I can’t be an afterthought.”
Her voice changed when she said the last part. She sounded vulnerable, yet confident. It was an odd mixture but was as sexy as hell. I wanted to take her into the back office and show her just how much passion I had flowing through my veins in that moment.
“I can’t imagine anyone seeing you as an afterthought, Claudia.”
She dropped her gaze to her feet for a second before meeting my eyes again. “You’d be surprised.”
I had the sudden urge to deck every guy in her life who had ever treated her badly. It didn’t make any fucking sense, especially since she told me how she valued honesty, and I wasn’t being entirely truthful with her. Not that I had lied, but she obviously didn’t know I had a girlfriend, and I clearly wasn’t filling her in on that fact. Maybe I needed to deck myself first before I decked anyone else. Nothing made any sense when it came to her and my reactions.
“Sounds like you’re dating all the wrong guys.”
She sucked in her bottom lip, pulling it between her teeth, and I lowered my gaze, entranced by the way that lush lip moved gently in and out of her teeth’s grasp. And when her tongue darted out to lick it, I thought I might lose my load in the middle of my own damn bar.
“It’s hard to find any good ones,” she said. “Have any recommendations?” She smirked, her cheeks blushing the tiniest bit, but I noticed.
“I might. I’ll get back to you.” I winked and turned to leave.
“Wait!” she called out with a melodic-sounding laugh. “Where are you going?”
“I have to get back to work.”
I walked away knowing that I was leaving her wanting more, and hoped like hell I could convince myself to want her less.
Go Be Bold
Claudia
“You can thank me later,” Britney said as she reached for my hand and pulled me back onto the couch next to her.
“Thank you for what?” I shot her a look.
“For getting those assholes to leave.” She tipped her head in the direction of the guys who had been hitting on us earlier. They had already moved on to other women, thank God.
“What’d you do?” When her lips formed a mischievous grin, I got a little nervous. “Britney, what’d you say to them?”
She laughed. “I told them you were Frank’s girlfriend and that he wasn’t really friendly. I might have equated him to a rabid dog who bit if provoked.”
“A rabid dog? Seriously?”
“They’re gone, aren’t they?” She shrugged. “If I had to listen to one more story about who they knew in Hollywood or all the parties they get invited to, I would have rolled my eyes so hard into the back of my head, they would’ve stayed there.”
“So you’d rather go blind than listen to them talk anymore?”
“Yes.”
“Kind of dramatic, don’t you think?”
“I’m nothing if not a little dramatic.” She flipped her hair with one hand. Dramatically.
“Clearly.”
She rested her head on my shoulder. “Now, tell me what Fuckable Frank said to you.”
I coughed and choked out, “Please. For the love of our friendship, don’t ever call him that again.”
“Fine. What did Freaky Frank say?” She glanced up at me and waggled her eyebrows seductively.
I shoved her head from my shoulder and turned toward her. “Please stop with the weird names. Freaky Frank is not sexy. It sounds creepy.”
“You’re no fun. What did No-Fun-Frank say to No-Fun-Claudia, then?”
“Nothing, really. He was flirting, I think.”
“You think? Of course he’s flirting. He’s been flirting with you since the first time he laid his stupid gorgeous green eyes on you.”
“It’s hard to tell with him,” I admitted.
Did I want Frank to be flirting with me? Hell yes, I did. But I couldn’t always tell if he was. I didn’t know him well
enough, and I found him hard to read.
“He’s so hot and cold. One second, I think he’s into me, and the next, he’s running away like I have chicken pox or something.”
“Chicken pox? Are we five?”
“You definitely are,” I teased.
“Don’t care. I’ll be five.” She shook her head. “But for the record,” she turned and glanced behind us, “he’s watching you. He’s always watching you.“
I looked in Frank’s direction and our eyes held for a moment longer than should be considered comfortable. My cheeks warmed and I looked away, feeling silly. I didn’t know what him watching me was all about. I knew what I hoped it meant, but had no clue if there was any significance at all.
“Now what?”
“You have to leave him your number tonight before we leave,” she stated, like it was the most obvious next step.
My eyes widened as I pulled back. “Leave my number? But he hasn’t even asked for it.”
“And he probably never will,” she said in almost a whisper.
“Then what the hell are you talking about?” I snapped out, sharper than I had intended.
Britney wanted me to leave my phone number for Frank, but she didn’t think he’d ever ask me for it? Why the heck would I give my number to a guy who didn’t want it, or wouldn’t ask for it?
She huffed out an annoyed breath. “I’m saying that if you wait for Frank to ask for your phone number, you might die first. And it’s not because he doesn’t want it.”
She wasn’t making any sense, but I played along anyway. “So I should just leave my number for him? Write it on a piece of paper like some . . .” I paused, annoyed at the stereotype I felt like I was so quickly becoming. “Like some—”
“Like some bar floozy?” Britney laughed.
I didn’t want to be a typical bar floozy. I was fairly certain that Frank got hit on all the time, and the last thing I wanted was to be like all the other women who came into his bar.
Not to mention that if I were the aggressor, it meant that Frank didn’t have to be. Just the idea of that turned me off. I wasn’t attracted to weak men, no matter how good-looking they might be. My heart required strength and confidence. A passive man would never do. I’d eventually eat him alive.
“He’s a grown man, Britney. If he wants my number, then he should ask me for it. Do I really want to be interested in someone who doesn’t even have the nerve to ask for my number?”
Britney belted out a loud laugh. “Do you really think Frank lacks nerve? Look at him. Honestly, I think he’s just the quiet type. He isn’t like Nick and Ryan, you know? He’s not overly in your face like they are, all charming smiles and flirtatious words. He keeps to himself, and I wonder if he’s trying not to cross a line with you for some reason.”
“Like because he’s not interested, maybe?” My heart stung a little just saying those words.
“No! God, you’re so annoying.” She groaned. “That man knows where you are in this bar at all times. If that’s not interested, then it’s just plain stalkery behavior. Not that I’d mind being stalked by him.”
She bit her lip suggestively, and I found myself feeling territorial. If Frank was going to stalk either of us, it was going to be me.
Wait, what the hell am I even thinking?
“So, will you do it?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I’ll think about it.”
“Just be bold. What do you have to lose?”
“My pride. My confidence. The ability to look at myself in the mirror each morning without cringing.”
“All over a stupid phone number? Now who’s being dramatic?” She finished the last of her drink and slammed the empty glass down.
I sighed, weighing Britney’s words against my heart’s desire. What did I want when it came to Frank?
Everything?
Nothing?
“What are you thinking about? You have that stupid look on your face,” Britney said, interrupting my thoughts, which weren’t forming all that well anyway.
“I’m just trying to figure out what the hell I want when it comes to him,” I admitted a little too honestly.
“You don’t have to have it all figured out right this second.”
“I know that.”
“Are you sure?”
Her tone was a little too judgmental for my taste, and I stiffened. “Yeah, I’m sure. I think I know myself better than anyone else,” I said with attitude.
She slouched back into the couch. “I’m not trying to upset you. I’m just saying that it’s okay if you want to get to know him and see where it goes. Maybe you’ll hate him after talking to him more. He might be stupid. Who knows? But you won’t know unless you try.”
Dammit. I hated that she was right. Because I was pretty sure that she was drunk, and it annoyed me that even inebriated, Britney could make this much sense.
I growled, “Fine. I’ll leave him my damn number. Happy now?”
“Yes!” she shouted, pumping her fist into the air.
I reached for my clutch, opened it, and looked inside. “Just one problem.”
“What’s that, my little Colombian friend?” she said in an accent that I was sure was meant to mimic my own. It was a horrible mix between Al Pacino in the Godfather and a drunk white girl from the Valley.
I shook my head. “No paper. No pen.”
She hopped up from the couch like it was on fire. “I got you!” she said before sprinting off toward the bar.
I refused to turn around and watch her, my body already humming with slight humiliation at what might come out of her mouth while she was unattended.
When one of the annoying guys from earlier saw me sitting alone, he headed toward me. With one shake of my head, I made him stop in mid-step and turn back around. In that moment, I was thankful he and his friends thought I belonged to Frank.
Britney reappeared and plopped back onto the couch, bouncing me a little as she landed.
“Here you go! One pen and some paper,” she said, handing them over as if she was the cleverest person in the entire bar.
“Please tell me you didn’t ask Frank for them,” I pleaded, willing my potential embarrassment to back down.
“Hell no! I asked Ryan.” She giggled, her eyes a little glassy, and I wasn’t sure if it was from the alcohol or the lust. “I’ll take any excuse to talk to that man.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“Ooh, big word,” she teased.
I wrote my name and number on the paper, thinking about how I was going to slip it to Frank without an audience.
“Are you ready to go soon?” I asked, more than a little nervous. I had always considered myself a confident woman, but when it came to that particular Fisher brother, I found myself questioning everything.
“Whenever you are.” She allowed her head to fall back onto the couch, as comfortable as if we were in our living room.
“I’m ready.” I didn’t want to close the bar down like we had the other night. If I was leaving Frank my phone number, I wanted to do it and then get the hell out. Why was my mind making this into such an ordeal?
Britney leaned forward, a little off-balance as she scooped the piece of paper from the top of the table and peered at it. “Just making sure you didn’t give him the wrong number.”
A laugh bubbled up. “Why on earth would I give him the wrong number?”
“I don’t know.” She waved my question off. “I’m drunk. I ask stupid questions when I’m drunk.”
“Can we go now?” I practically begged.
“Yeah. Go be bold!” she said way too loudly, and I covered her mouth with my hand.
“Seriously,” I hissed at her. “Be quiet or I won’t do it.”
I looked around at the small scene her shouting had created. Too many heads were turned toward us, watching us with curiosity. I was already nervous enough, wondering how to give Frank my phone number on the sly. The last thing I needed was all eyes in the bar on us.
I reached for her arm to steady her. “How many drinks did you have?”
How the heck could she be so much more inebriated than I was? In our hours at the bar, I’d only had three drinks, but Britney must have had more than that when I wasn’t paying attention. And normally, I always paid attention.
“It was those douchey guys. They kept giving me shots.”
Shit. I hadn’t seen that happen at all. “I didn’t realize. Are you okay?”
“I’m good enough to be your wingwoman!” She threw her arms out to her sides and pretended to fly as we walked.
I stopped short, pushing her in front of me before grabbing her arms and forcing them down to her sides. “Behave, or I’ll tell Ryan you’re pregnant with his love child.”
She spun around to face me. “Wouldn’t that be a dream? I wish I was pregnant with Ryan’s love child!”
Everything she said was too loud. The bar was loud on its own, but Britney was louder. I heard Ryan’s voice before I turned my head to meet his gaze.
“Who’s pregnant with my love child?” He laughed, and the people lined up the bar for drinks all turned around and stared at us.
When Britney waved both hands in the air, I wanted to die. I’m going to kill her.
Thankfully, Frank appeared at my side. “You ladies heading out?”
I looked up at him, appreciating the way his tall frame towered over my five feet five inches, thinking of all the ways he could use his height to his advantage. As my mind wandered, I almost forgot he’d asked a question.
“Gotta take the drunk one home.” I nodded toward Britney, whose arm was still in my grasp.
“I am not,” Britney said. “Okay, fine. I’m drunk. So what? I hope it doesn’t hurt the love baby.”
“On that note . . .” I tightened my grip and reached into my pocket with my free hand, pulling out the paper. “We better go. But I wanted to leave this for you.” I shoved the paper at him.
Frank looked down, his fingers folding as he palmed the small note.
“No pressure or anything. I mean, you don’t have to use it. It’s just . . .”
Oh my God. I couldn’t stop stumbling over my words, and Britney started laughing hard.
