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“I got it.”
“No, because then you’ll complain later and I’m not listening to it tonight, tomorrow, or for the next eighty-one days.”
“You’re really keeping track there, aren’t you?” I throw my credit card along the counter and lean my side along the railing while I wait for the bartender to cash us out.
“I have a countdown on my phone and everything.”
I look toward the ceiling and sigh. “Of course you do.”
She heaves her shoulders and clearly doesn’t care. “I have to look forward to something.”
I hum my nonchalance because it doesn’t matter how she puts it in her head. She’s mine for those next eighty-whatever days.
“Hey—damn, are you leaving already?” A body appears in my peripheral and my head automatically turns to see the blond prick that I believed bought her the drink she didn’t touch.
This confirms it.
“Yeah,” Liv says, sounding sorry that she is. “It’s been a long day.”
“My loss then,” he says, giving her this award-winning smile and extending his hand. “I’m Kyle. And I saw you across the way and had to buy you a drink.”
“Aw, that’s sweet. I appreciate it.”
“Did you see me, too, Junior?” I interrupt, because his game—it needs work. “It’s pretty ballsy to buy a woman a drink when she’s with another man.”
Kyle graces me with attentiveness and gives me this sorry, not sorry sorta smile that I would legit bitch-slap right off his fucking face if Olive was my girl in real life. “Sometimes it’s all about taking chances.” He offers me his hand. “I apologize, sir. I didn’t mean to show any disrespect for your daughter.”
Dude.
I’m forty-one without a single gray hair on my head. I’m in shape, I could rip this skinny little fuck in half with my bare hands—and when the hell did I ever become old?
“She’s not my daughter, but I am her fucking daddy.”
“Geezus, God,” I hear Liv mutter, moving her dainty fingers to her temple and beginning to massage them.
“I’m sorry…what?”
I wave Kyle away like the damn pest he is. “Get lost, Nick Carter. She’s not going home with you.”
He quickly looks back to Liv. “Can I get your number?”
I bite my tongue from the next words that want to come out of my mouth. She says she’s not some little kid who’s naive as fuck and can handle herself.
So here’s her perfect opportunity.
“I don’t think my man would appreciate me grabbing your number,” she replies, keeping her tone sweet so she doesn’t bust this dude’s feelings. “But thanks for the drink.”
Kyle jerks his thumb at me. “This dude’s your man? Are you doing, like, some Anna Nicole Smith thing or something?”
“Liv,” I warn from deep within my chest. “I will kill this motherfucker if you don’t tell him to beat it.”
“Yeah”—she steps out between the two of us, using herself as a shield—“you better go. He’s drank a lot and he really does have a temper.”
“Well, how about I put my number in your phone and you call me when—” I jerk forward to scare the little shit and he buys it, wrenching backward in fear as my chest presses into Liv’s back.
“He broke a man’s wrist in Reno, Kyle,” Liv fibs, extending her arms at her sides as if I’m chomping at the bit to get to him. I am, but I’m not foaming at the mouth yet. “You really need to go.”
He does, scampering away like the little bitch he is, and Olive pivots on her heel and glances up at me. “Are you done having fun?”
