The waitress, whose name tag reads Emma, puts her hand on my arm and asks, “Is everything okay here?” She bats her eyelashes, an inviting smile on her face.
Mallory looks up at her. “Yes, we’re good. Thank you.”
Mallory’s a better person than I am. If some man were blatantly hitting on my date, I’d be spitting unkind words, but Mallory’s smiling.
Emma looks at me and pushes her tits closer to my face. “If you need anything, baby, I’d be more than happy to help you.” She slips a paper, presumably with her number on it, in my shirt pocket and winks. “Anything.”
“Thanks,” I say, keeping my eyes on my menu.
Once Emma’s out of my line of vision, I take the note and drop it on the floor. Mallory eyes me curiously, the gears visibly grinding inside her precious mind.
“Did she seriously just do that?” Mallory asks through a breathy laugh. There’s a timid smile on her face.
“Yeah, I guess she did.”
“And you let her do it?” Mallory teases, throwing a piece of bread from the basket at me. The tension on her face lifts when I swat at the bread and it almost hits the woman sitting at the table across from us.
We’re still laughing when Jack and Coke I ordered is (thankfully) brought to the table by our original waitress. I sip my drink, allowing the burn to ease my nerves.
Our order arrives a moment later. I dive into my steak, but Mallory’s just sitting, staring at her food.
“What?”
She looks up from the food she’s barely touched. Her face is lit up with a smile so big it reaches her eyes. “This is the strangest first date I’ve ever had, but I kind of like it.”
I rub at the back of my neck. “Yeah, I’m not very good at dating. To be honest, I haven’t taken a girl on a proper date in years.”
Her eyes widen. “Really?”
I nod. “There hasn’t been anyone I’ve wanted to get to know outside of the bedroom since high school.”
A small crease appears between her brows. “But you’ve had girlfriends before, right?”
I let out a sigh and lean against the back of booth. “I’ve had one real girlfriend and she did a number on me, but that was ages ago. Every girl after her has been someone to pass the time. Things would last a week, two at best, before I ended it.”
Mallory looks at me, horrified.
I chuckle. “Don’t look at me like that. Those girls knew from day one that I didn’t want anything serious. If they got hurt, then that’s on them.”
Her eyes narrow. “And what do you want now?”
Letting out an exaggerated sigh I say, “Truthfully, I don’t know.”
“Huh,” she says, taking a bite of her burger.
I drop my gaze, waiting for her to say something other than ‘huh.’ Seconds turn into minutes, the silence eating away at me.
What does she want out of this?
“Let’s play pass-or-play,” I say a little too eager.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a game I used to play with my mom when I got in trouble. We get to ask each other five questions and you have to answer, but you can pass on two.”
She looks at me quizzically. “Were you in trouble a lot growing up?”
“Is that your first question?”
She stares off into space for a moment, probably thinking if she wants to play, then nods.
“Pass.”
Mallory’s jaw falls open. “That’s not fair.”
I shrug. “We each get two.”
She throws another piece of bread at me, a playful scowl on her face. It hits my chest, falling onto my lap.
Brushing the bread onto the floor, I ask, “How long are you staying?”
“At your house?”
I shake my head. “No, here in Georgia.”
“Um,” she pauses, gazing into the distance lost in thought. “I’m not sure. Maybe two more weeks. I have to go back for a dress fitting for my brother’s wedding; it’s in about four months.”
“And after the fitting?”
“Don’t know. I guess stay in Florida and deal with.” She freezes, her gaze falling to her hands. “Everything.” That last word comes out so quiet it’s almost a whisper.
Two weeks? A sharp pain forms in my chest. What if this is the last time I get to see Mallory? I need to make this weekend the time of her life. She needs a reason to come back to me.
“My turn,” she says with a smirk. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-one. And you?”
“Nineteen.”
“How many girls have you slept with?”
I sputter, spitting my drink all over my food. Mallory bites her bottom lip, her eyes twinkling with laughter.
When I can finally breathe again, I say, “Pass.”
My turn. “What’s your last name?”
“Pass.”
“Seriously? It’s just a last name. You know mine.”
“You said I get two passes. Now drop it.”
Why won’t she tell me her last name? Maybe she’s a fugitive or something. I chuckle at the thought.
“What’s so funny?” she asks, eyeing me.
“I was just thinking you might be a fugitive on the run from some bank robbery or something crazy in Florida. Then I realized you’re too pretty to be a criminal. Prison would eat you alive.”
She laughs too. “I’m definitely not a criminal. My turn?”
“Nope. You asked an extra question. Do you have any siblings?”
“Just an older brother.”
Right. She already said that. Way to waste a question.
“What are you afraid of?”
Her question takes me by surprise. What am I most afraid of? You leaving me before I get the chance to get to know you and make you mine. I sigh, realizing that I can’t say that. So instead I say, “Spiders.”
Mallory’s nose wrinkles. “I hate spiders and all creepy-crawly bugs. Favorite food?”
“Frog legs. You?”
“Pasta. I’ve never had frog legs before.” She grins. “I think we’ve gone over five questions.”
I nod. “They taste like chicken by the way.”
Mallory’s head cocks to the side. “What does?”
“Frog legs.”
Chapter 20
Mallory
We pull up to a nightclub called Cowboy’s and the front parking lot is packed. Beau turns around the back of the building and makes his own parking space in a vacant lot. I chuckle because never in my life have I been with someone who makes their own parking space.
Getting out, I wobble, my heels sink into the grass with each step I take. Beau must see me struggling because he puts a supportive arm around my waist, ushering me out of the grassy lot and to the sidewalk. Nestled close to his body, the smell of his cologne is heavenly. It’s the kind of smell that makes me want to bury my nose in his chest and not come up for air for hours.
“Sorry,” Beau says as we approach the front of the building. Rob, Jess, Kevin and Shannon are huddled in a group, likely waiting for our arrival. “Kevin must have opened his big mouth about us coming here tonight.”
I force a smile. “It’s fine.”
I was enjoying our alone time, but I guess all good things must come to an end. Beau’s hand slides from around my waist, down my arm until our fingers tangle together.
“Sup, man,” Rob says as we approach, his hand up in the air for a high five.
“Not much.” Beau high fives Rob then back hands Kevin across the stomach. We walk in front of the group to be the first ones through the door.
“Hey, Mallory,” Jess says, playfully from behind me.
I look over my shoulder and give Jess a little wave.
We barely get through the door before the bouncer cards us. Digging in my purse I realize I forgot my fake-ID. Feeling more than embarrassed, I extend my hand and the bouncer-dude puts a big black X on it.
Beau chuckles, his brown eyes twinkling with flirtation. He lea
ns in, his breath tickling my ear as he whispers, “Don’t worry beautiful, I’m done drinking tonight. I’ll get you whatever you want.”
***
Cowboys is nothing like the nightclubs I’ve been to in Fort Lauderdale. The building room is divided into three sections. There’s an L-shaped bar with a dozen or so chairs to my left, to my right is a game area with four red pool tables, three dart boards, and the bathrooms. Straight ahead of me is a stage and a dancefloor that’s full of people in boots and jeans. My insecurities peak because not only am I the only one of us underage but I’m also more than overdressed.
As if Beau can read my thoughts, he brings his mouth to my ear. “You are the most beautiful girl here.” His lips kiss my skin before pulling away. “Go with the guys, I’ll catch up in a minute.”
I follow Kevin and Rob to the game area while Jess and Shannon make their way to the dancefloor.
After feeding the dart machine more quarters than I can count, Kevin and Rob engage in a heated game of rock paper scissors to see who’s going to throw first.
Beau appears a few minutes later, a large red drink with a mini umbrella in one hand and what looks to be a Coke in his other. He hands me the red one. I look up at him, straw between my lips, and take a sip. He holds my gaze a little too long for two people this attracted to each other not to be doing something.
My pulse drums in my ears.
Is he gonna kiss me again?
Better yet, why do I want him to kiss me again?
That’s a stupid question. Beau’s the best kisser I’ve ever had. I can only imagine what he’d be like in bed. My cheeks heat at that thought.
Beau winks at me before he joins the guys.
Three mystery red drinks later and I’m feeling good. Beau stands behind me, his arms clasped around my waist. I rest my head on his shoulder and close my eyes. His fingers strum against my skin, lulling me to sleep.
Beau’s thumb abruptly stop moving. I peel my eyes open and look up at him, expecting a warm smile to greet me. But Beau’s jaw is tense as his eyes follow someone across the room, near the bar.
“Listen,” Beau says to me, his tone is firm and ominous. “There’s this girl from my past, she’s down there at the bar.” He tilts his head in the direction of the girl, but I have no idea who I’m supposed to be looking for. “She’s probably going to come over here.” He pauses to look me dead in the eye. “Full disclosure, we fooled around a few weeks ago, but it was just sex. She doesn’t mean anything to me. Okay?”
Wait, what? I force a smile, feeling my heart sink.
Beau places his hand under my chin and lifts my chin. “Remember, I’m here with you.” His lips press against mine for a fraction of a second, leaving me confused and wanting more.
Jess skips up to us, her arms linked with some big-boobed blond. They stop at the dart board, saying hey to Kevin and Rob, before coming our way. Beau’s arms fall from around me and he takes two steps to the side. He runs a jerky hand through his hair and forces a smile.
The big-boobed girl runs at Beau, throwing herself into his arms. Beau gives her type of hug I’ve only dreamed of getting—the lift you off your feet, heart racing, butterflies fluttering, no one in the world matters but you kind of hug. As if that wasn’t bad enough, her ruby red lips meet his. The kiss was brief, maybe a fraction of second, but it’s enough.
I lean against the wall, trying to resuscitate the dying butterflies in my stomach. Beau and the girl talk, but I can’t hear what they’re saying over the sound of my pulse in my ears. Beau laughs and sips his beer.
My eyes burn. Tears well in them, waiting to be set free. Unable to stomach their interactions anymore, I give into the nagging urge to leave. Turning away, I make it ten steps before pressure on my shoulder stops me in my tracks. I turn and find a confused Beau looking at me.
“You okay?” he asks, his voice laced with what sounds like genuine concern.
“I’m fine,” I croak.
“I’m sorry about Amanda.”
Oh, so that’s her name.
“I didn’t know she was gonna kiss me,” he says, apologetically.
I shrug. “It’s whatever.”
It’s not whatever. It feels like I’m dying inside, every cell in my body aches. I haven’t felt this kind of hurt since catching Tristan knee-deep in my ex-best friend against our washing machine.
“Are we okay?” Beau studies my face. “We can leave if you want.”
“We’re fine.” It’s another lie. My gaze falls to my feet. “Be with your friends. I’m going to the bathroom.”
“Mallory—”
“Really,” I say, cutting him off, “it’s all good.”
Turning my back to Beau, I force my feet in the direction of the bathroom. I lock myself in the oversized handicap stall and scrub at the X on my hand
Convinced the black mark is gone enough, I leave and find a seat at the far end of the bar.
“You look like you’re having a rough night,” the bartender says.
“That obvious?” I ask through a breathy laugh.
The bartender pulls out two shot glasses and pours the contents of a bottle into them. He hands me one glass and a lime and keeps the other for himself.
“On the house.”
I hold my glass up. “Cheers.”
Placing the glass to my lips, I swallow. The Tequila burns going down, but it’s the kind of burn that chases away your sorrows.
Before I’m finished sucking on the lime, he says, “Want another?”
“Yes, please.”
Three shots and another fruity red drink later, I’m practically stalking Big-Boobs-Magee from a distance. My eyes follow her every move, envious as to how easily she joins the conversations.
“Jealous is does not look pretty on you,” Kevin says, sneaking up behind me.
I jump, my hand flying to my heart, irrationally thinking my own touch would steady it’s racing.
Crap, I’m caught.
Kevin laughs at my reaction and drags a stool over to sit beside me. He pats the bar. “Bud Light.”
The bartender gives Kevin his beer, but hovers close by, probably wondering if Kevin’s gonna steal me away now that I’m all boozed up.
“You’re drunk,” Kevin says, in a matter-of-fact way.
I stick my tongue out at him.
Kevin rolls his eyes. “You never answered me.”
“And you never asked a question,” I rebuff. Drunk me has got this.
“Why are you down here by yourself, wasted?”
I turn in my chair to face the pool tables but lose my balance, nearly falling out of it. Kevin takes hold of my elbow and steadies me. I point in the direction of the group. “I’ve been re-play-said.”
He chuckles. “Lord Almighty, your accent’s thicker than mom’s gravy.”
I shrug, not fully understanding Kevin’s comment. And then it hits me, he didn’t deny it. That girl replaced me! I hold my empty glass up until the bartender acknowledges me. “Can I get another one?”
Kevin waves off the bartender then puts his hand on my shoulder. Looking me straight in the eye, he says, “Beau asked me to check on you.”
“Why? He too busy to come talk to me himself?”
Kevin shakes his head, brows drawing together. “Let’s dance.”
“Pffft.” I think I spit on him.
Kevin wipes his cheek with the back of his hand then stares at me, waiting for an answer.
I shrug. “I can’t line dance.”
“It’s a slow song.”
I need another reason to say no, but I’m drawing a blank. I look around the room. My eyes quickly find Beau again, still up by the pool tables, still talking to Big-Boobs-Magee.
“If you’re worried about Amanda,” Kevin says, as if he can read my thoughts, “who by the way has nothing on you, then let’s make Beau jealous.”
I shoot Kevin a questioning look and he chuckles again. He has a nice laugh. I sigh. Too bad he’s a man-whore. He’s
kind of nice.
Did I just find something about Kevin attractive? Whoa. Maybe I have had too much to drink.
I shake my head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Sure it is. When Amanda sees how jealous Beau’s about to get, she’s gonna be pissed.”
“I don’t think one dance is going to make Beau jealous.”
Kevin takes my hand and drags me to the dance floor. “Oh, you don’t know Beau like I do.”
Chapter 21
Beau
I realize the night is probably ruined the moment Amanda hurls herself into my arms. Everything that happens next is reflex—the swinging, the hugging, the laughing. It’s all a routine we’ve fallen into over the years that’s as natural to me as breathing. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did.
Mallory goes to the bathroom and then down to the bar. I know her feelings are hurt. I could see it in her eyes when I confronted her.
I toy with the idea of following Mallory down to the bar but decide to give her some space. The last time Mallory got upset she ran away; maybe that’s what she’s doing now. At least this time I can keep an eye her and make sure she’s safe.
I watch Mallory sit down at the bar. The dude behind it is serving her more shots than she can feasibly handle. She pounds them back, one after another, then starts on a mix drink. I chew on my lip. I know I should do something, pace her drinking but I don’t want to come across as this crazy, controlling boyfriend. Not that I’m her boyfriend…yet.
Amanda touches my arm, pulling my attention back to her. She tilts her head toward the back corner of the room, a tantalizing grin on her face. She isn’t subtle about her desires but I don’t want that tonight. I don’t want her. I want Mallory. I shake my head. Amanda’s eyes widen and then narrow. I watch an array of emotions cross her face: shock, sadness, and finally anger.
“I’ll have you again sooner or later,” Amanda whispers into my ear. She pulls away, but not before licking my cheek.
I wipe her slobber off with the back of my hand and look at the bartender again. He makes my blood boil. It’s obvious he wants Mallory. I clench my fist and take a deep breath.
Can't Let Go Page 7
