“Thank you for not minding that I can be a pain in the ass,” I told him, thinking how sweet it was that he was so accommodating.
“On the contrary, I love that you tell me what’s on your mind. I’m not good at guessing games, and I find it refreshing that you just tell me what you’re thinking. I hate sulking, Danika, and you’re no sulker. Give me shit, hell, yell and scream at me, just as long as you let me know where we stand.”
I blinked at him, thrown for a loop. “I can do that. I’m actually very good at that.”
“Yes, you are. I love that about you.”
“And I love that you love that about me,” I told him, meaning it. And boy did I. I loved a man that could take a little honesty. My ex had been a whiny bitch who was always protecting his fragile little ego, so my brand of honesty had never been the order of the day. Tristan was a nice change of pace, to say the least.
I took in our fancy surroundings as we strode slowly through the casino portion of the Cavendish property. “Where did Kenny go?” I asked as I noticed that the other man had disappeared.
“Not sure,” he said, looking around. “He’ll meet us at the club, though. It’s not far.”
Decadence, the club, was intimidating. There was a long line to the entrance as we approached. My first thought when I saw a line like that was to head in the other direction.
I slowed, but Tristan just pulled lightly on my hand, heading straight for the front of the line.
The huge, stern-looking bouncer didn’t even check our IDs, just nodded us through the door, no expression on his face.
“You know him?” I asked Tristan.
He nodded, pulling me along.
I found myself quickly distracted. The club was breathtaking. Long couches flanked numerous indoor pools that formed one huge circle, a huge waterfall the center of it all. Nearly every pool had its own bar. It was by far the most impressive club I’d ever seen, but one huge shortcoming stood out to me right away.
“Where’s the dance floor?” I asked him.
He waved at the pools. “This is the lounge, though you can sure as hell dance here if you want.” He pointed at a large arch that led into a darkened room. “That’s the dance floor. And as you can see, there are bars everywhere. We just need to find the one our friend, Cory is working at to get hooked up with free drinks.”
A few bikini clad women frolicked in one of the nearby pools. They were giggling loudly enough to draw attention.
“I didn’t bring a swimsuit,” I told him.
He glanced at the pools, looking surprised at the idea. “I didn’t think of it. If you want to swim, I’ll find us some suits. It’s up to you. Let’s get a drink, dance, and then decide.”
“How are you ever going to find a random hookup, if you spend all your time with me?”
He just smiled. “You let me worry about that.”
I hadn’t really been worried about it. Not at all, in fact. There was something about him, and it wasn’t just his size, that seemed to command every room he walked into, even this one. Charisma, I thought.
By the looks women were shooting him, I knew that he wouldn’t have to look hard to find anyone. Hell, showing up with a woman on his arm would probably only make him more appealing to this crowd.
“Am I like your wingman tonight?” I asked, as a particularly bold blonde gave him a thorough once over.
He seemed to like that idea, his smile widening unabashedly. “Wouldn’t that be ironic?”
“Why is that ironic? Because I’m a woman?”
His mouth twisted, and he stopped to study me. “I’m not sure I should answer that. It’s not a…friendly answer.”
“Well, now I have to hear your explanation. What’s that supposed to mean?”
He sighed. “You asked for it. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He leaned in close, speaking into my ear. We were just outside of the room that held the dance floor, so it wasn’t so loud that I couldn’t have heard him. I thought he was just doing it for dramatic effect. “It’s ironic that I’d use you for my wingman, when I want to fuck you more than any of the women here.”
“Oh,” I said eyes wide on him as he pulled back. “That was sweet, you silver-tongued devil.”
He laughed, and I couldn’t help but join him. Those dimples, and the clear admiration in his eyes, were a potent and irresistible combination, and his shameless flirting didn’t raise any red flags for me. On the contrary, I thought he was too much fun.
“What are we drinking, sweetheart?” he asked, tugging me back the way we’d come.
“Hey! Where are we going? I thought we were going to dance!”
“I just spotted my friend at that bar over there. Time for some free drinks. Lady’s choice.”
“Something with tequila,” I told him.
“Now we’re talking.”
We approached one of the bars near the club’s entrance. A good-looking blond male bartender grinned when he spotted Tristan, holding up his hand in a small wave after he’d handed two martinis off to a man in a suit.
“Hey, Cory,” Tristan said as we drew close. “This is my friend, Danika. Danika, this is my friend, Cory. Tell him what you’d like to drink.”
I shook the man’s hand, immediately taking a liking to him. I thought that was because of his easy-going smile. He was handsome, but more than that, he just had one of those faces that made you want to like him at a glance, with kind eyes and a sweet smile. He was wearing a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and I could tell he was built. He was thinner than Tristan, but he still obviously spent some time at the gym. If I had been on the lookout for a man, which I emphatically wasn’t, Tristan’s friends would have been some prime candidates.
“Nice to meet you, Cory,” I told him, not even having to raise my voice. I thought that was something you must only get in the really nice clubs, since all the ones I’d been to before I’d have had to yell to be heard.
“Nice to meet you, Danika. What can I get you to drink?”
I shrugged, biting my lip. I wasn’t a big drinker, so nothing specific came to mind right off the bat.
“Something with tequila,” I said.
“Shots or cocktails to start?” he asked, looking between me and Tristan.
“Let’s start with a shot,” Tristan said, his hand going to the small of my back to usher me onto a padded, high-backed bar stool.
We watched Cory as he mixed the shot. The only bottle I recognized was tequila.
“What’s he making us?” I asked Tristan.
“Hell if I know. Something with tequila.”
Cory made a production out of pouring the shots, sliding them to us with a smile. “Diablo shots.”
I laughed. “That sounds ominous.”
Cory wiggled his brows at me. “Oh, it is. Go for it.”
“You aren’t having a shot with us?” I asked him.
“I’m working.”
“At a bar,” I added.
He didn’t say another word, just grinned while he poured a third shot. He held it up to us in a toast. “This one is for the mysterious hottie on Tristan’s arm tonight! You’re a lucky bastard!”
I glanced at Tristan, and we were both smiling as we took the shot.
I just about choked as liquid fire went down my throat, but I got it down.
Tristan laughed at the look on my face as I set the glass down. “You didn’t like it?”
I grimaced. “It was a shot. I didn’t know I was supposed to like it. I sure as hell felt it. Isn’t that what matters?”
Cory answered, already busy pouring the next round. “Feeling it is the point. Good shit, right?”
I nodded. I was already a little light-headed, which meant that tiny shot had been pure alcohol.
I watched Tristan’s big hand as he picked up his re-filled shot glass. He held it up.
I grabbed my own, watching him.
“To sarcastic women who aren’t afraid to tell it like it is!”
Tristan said, holding the shot glass up to his mouth, and tipping his head back.
Oh, I like this one, I thought, watching his throat work as he swallowed. A sexy man who liked sarcastic women…
I downed my own shot, blinking rapidly as it made my eyes water. I met Tristan’s eyes. “I hope you’re strong enough to carry me home if I get too blitzed. I’m not used to drinking like this.”
He flashed me those dangerous dimples. “Sweetheart, I could carry two of you home.”
I rolled my eyes, setting my shot glass down for another round. “I’ll bet you’ve done that before.”
“Done what?” he asked, looking thoroughly confused.
“Carried two women home.”
Tristan waved Cory off as he started to pour another shot. “I think that’s enough shots for the moment. We’ll take two margaritas on the rocks. Make mine a double, and one of your raspberry ones for her.”
“Make mine a skinny,” I added.
“No fucking way,” Tristan interjected.
I shot him a look.
“No fucking way,” he repeated. “You don’t need a skinny anything. You, my dear, are skinny enough.”
I glared. “Are you saying I’m too skinny?”
He laughed. “No, I’m not. As determined as you are to take offense, I was giving you a compliment. You look great. As a matter of fact, you look amazing. You don’t, however, look like you need to be counting calories.”
“Well, I look this way because I do count calories.”
“Well, give yourself a night off.”
Cory was already sliding us the margaritas, and already buzzed, it was pretty easy to take his advice, and just drink.
“I’m feeling awfully pretty,” I told Tristan as I finished the glass.
He choked out a laugh, setting down his own glass. “Well, you are pretty, so that’s good.”
“It’s a drunk thing. I know I’m drunk when I feel real pretty. What’s your drunk feeling?”
He thought about it for a moment, rubbing at that sexy stubble on his jaw. “I guess I know I’m really shit-faced when I start to think I’m invincible, or that I’m exempt from consequences. But yours sounds better. My new term for getting drunk has been officially changed to ‘feeling pretty’.”
“Feeling pretty, huh?” Cory called out from behind the bar. “Don’t think we won’t be giving you shit for that one!”
Tristan shrugged, not looking at all bothered by the notion.
Cory pointed to a spot behind us, and I turned to see Kenny approaching. There was a tall young man with black hair next to him who looked uncannily familiar, though I had to study him hard for a minute to figure out why.
It was only as Tristan rose and embraced the black-haired one that I realized that they must be related. The other man was much thinner than Tristan, though they were of a height.
Tristan was grinning as he made quick introductions. “Danika, this is my little brother, Jared. Jared, this is my friend, Danika.”
Jared smiled as he leaned in close to shake my hand. The dimples ran in the family, and Jared used them almost as lethally as Tristan did. His wrists were layered with black and silver bracelets, and I saw that his arms were inked with full sleeves that disappeared into the arms of his black T-shirt. The brothers definitely shared a love for tattoos.
“Nice to meet you,” Jared said, and I saw the piercing in his lip as he spoke.
“You too,” I told him.
“How do you know my brother?” he asked, propping his arm on the back of my chair.
“He’s crashing at my boss’s place. We met earlier today, actually.” It felt weird to say that. I felt like I’d known him for a lot longer than a day already.
“Wanna dance?” Jared asked.
“Hey now!” Tristan said, throwing an arm around his brother’s shoulder. “I’ve been waiting all night to dance with her. You don’t just get to walk up here and cut in!”
He was smiling as he said it, which let me know he wasn’t serious, but serious or not, Jared backed off instantly.
“Of course, bro!” Jared said. “It just seemed like a waste to me, that she’d be sitting in here, instead of dancing in there.”
Tristan finished his drink and set the glass down hard on the bar. He shrugged out his suit jacket, draping it over the back of his chair. I tried not to stare at the sight of him in his tight black T-shirt, and the display of tattoos on his hard muscled arms, but it was distracting.
“By God, you’re right!” he declared. “Let’s go, Danika! We’ve wasted precious dance floor time drinking!”
CHAPTER FIVE
Tristan didn’t waste any time after that, pulling me straight into the chaos of the dance floor. House music was playing, which wasn’t always my favorite, but I could work with it. Whatever the DJ was doing had a good beat, which was all I needed.
I smiled as Tristan moved in front of me, facing me to dance. It was a mischievous smile, because I knew, just absolutely knew, that I was about to blow his mind.
I didn’t do the Vegas bump and grind thing that people called dancing. I was a trained dancer. I’d trained in ballroom, salsa, hip-hop, and club dancing. Hell, I’d even trained in belly dancing. Although my obsession was hands-down ballroom, I had my club freestyle down to a science.
I started with one little hair toss just to get his attention. I raised my hands above my head, and began my own scintillating version of a gyrate.
The floor was crowded, but I had just enough room to work. I put one hand on his chest while I twisted my hips. He was dancing, and the man had some moves, but his jaw went a little slack when he got a load of mine. He recovered quickly, though, and swiftly made his best effort to keep up with me.
I went for it. Shaking, popping, stepping, and twisting. We danced until I felt sweat dripping down my spine, and then we danced some more. Tristan was right there with me the whole time, and as I laughed and spun and just let loose, I tried hard to identify what I was feeling just then. After a time, I realized that I was just having fun. I couldn’t remember a time when I’d enjoyed myself more. I danced often, to train, and to stay in shape, but I never did it for fun. This was fun.
Tristan was flirty, but he never crossed a line, never brushed up in ways that a man might try if he was making a move on a woman. I felt a strong attraction to him, I think any woman would have, but I appreciated that he’d said friend, and he seemed to mean it. I wasn’t sure even I could have resisted him if he’d been hell bent on seduction.
The house music melded from one beat into the next, heavy on the bass. I couldn’t tell how many songs we danced for, but I was a sweaty, happy, hot mess by the time Tristan finally dragged me back into the lounge.
“I win. You quit first,” I told him.
He sent me sidelong smile. “Was it a competition? I didn’t know. Let’s just get a drink before we head back out. I’m nowhere near quitting.”
The guys were just where we’d left them, and Cory slid us waters as we walked up.
“Shots,” Tristan said.
Cory grinned. “More Diablo coming right up.”
“How long were we out there?” I asked Jared.
“A long time,” he said, checking the faceplate on his phone. “Over two hours.”
I laughed, grabbing my water for a long drink. I’d known we’d been out there for a long time, but I’d never have guessed two hours.
“My turn?” Jared asked, watching me with a very interested glint in his eye.
“Hell no,” Tristan answered for me. “Danika and I have a competition going tonight. We’re dancing ’til one of us drops.”
I had no problem with that. I had a competitive nature, and I just knew that I’d be winning.
“You do realize that I can’t carry you home…” All four men laughed, and I’d have been lying if I said that I didn’t enjoy the attention of four good-looking men.
Cory slapped five shots down on the bar, and we shot them. I’d barely se
t my glass back down before Tristan was dragging me off again.
We were back at it the instant we stepped out on the floor. I could tell right away that he was feeling more flirtatious this time, moving closer to me, his hand at the small of my back.
“You making a move on me?” I called out to him, but I wasn’t pushing him away.
I was relieved when he shook his head. His smile was innocent enough, but I thought there was a hint of something else in his eyes.
“Just dancing, sweetheart.”
I dropped low, really low, and shook my way back up, my hands just brushing his thighs as I rose.
“You making a move on me?” he called out with a laugh.
I shook my head at him, giving him a wide-eyed, innocent look. “Just dancing, sweetheart.”
It was on after that. He’d caress my hip. I’d counter that by a turn and an extra little arch of my back, just brushing up against him. He’d curse loudly, but we kept dancing.
I was actually giggling when he finally pulled me back into the lounge. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d giggled.
“I’m conceding, but only because I think you’d go until we both passed out, just to prove a point,” Tristan told me as we walked.
“All I heard just now was ‘blah, blah, blah Danika wins’.”
He stopped, shaking his head and laughing. “I like you,” he told me.
I wrinkled my nose at him. “I like you, too, platonic friend of mine.”
We were both grinning like fools as we rejoined the group.
Cory served us another round. Kenny and Jared immediately started making cracks when they saw that Tristan was drinking a margarita.
“He drinks those to feel pretty,” Cory made sure to add. “True story.”
“Real men don’t drink margaritas,” Jared told me, waving his bottle of beer.
I pointed at the bottle. “That will give you a beer gut.”
Jared grinned, lifting up his shirt to show me some very nice abs. “Hasn’t been a problem so far.”
I was a little too tipsy not to give him a very big smile for the very nice show.
Tristan slapped a hand onto his brother’s shoulder, leaning in to say something in his ear. Whatever it was wiped the smile from Jared’s face. He let his shirt drop.
Bad Things (Tristan & Danika #1) Page 4
