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“Lost someone?” Lainey asks from behind me.
I freeze momentarily, and then close my eyes, drinking in oxygen, at the same time trying to morph my panicked face into a cool, casual, lazy smile. It’s not happening. “She’s just gone to the ladies’,” I say without turning, losing myself in my beer.
“Funny. I swear I just saw her leave.”
My bottle pauses as I pull it away from my lips, beer held in my mouth. I could look at this two ways. The first, a hot woman just walked away from me, damn it. Or the second, and wrongfully appealing, is the fact that Lainey noticed. And then came over.
Slowly turning on my stool, I find the object of my deepest, darkest, most inappropriate fantasies, leaning over the bar with her phone in her hand, waiting to be served. “Very observant of you,” I muse, resting my beer down. I relish in the falter of her detached expression. She’s not fooling me. I reach into my pocket and pull out my wallet. “Lemon drop?”
Her nose slightly lifts, her inhale smooth. “Thank you.”
I order and slide it across to her as soon as the barman places it on the bar. No matter how hard I try, I can’t help following the path of the glass to that mouth.
“Congratulations on the Pyra deal.” She slips her phone on the bar. “I definitely noticed more curve on the hips.”
My eyes shoot to hers, finding a slight pull at the corner of her mouth as she sips from the glass. What do I say to that? Should I confirm what she’s thinking? Tell her that from the moment she mentioned hips, my sketching hand went on a rampage until I was staring down at what was unmistakably Lainey’s shape. And in this moment, I wonder if that was her plan. To torture me some more. And by the way she’s regarding me, she’s wondering if I’ve figured that out. Is she playing me?
I’m mulling over whether to ask her outright when her phone sounds, buzzing on the wood. My eyes instinctively land on the screen, seeing the preview of a text message from someone called Raul, telling her he’s on his way. Lainey quickly swipes up her mobile. “Thanks for the drink.” She downs the rest and heads to the back of the bar where everyone else is still huddled around the table. Raul? Spanish? Maybe it’s the guy Gina saw her with at lunch. The twenty-something hot one. I contemplate that, watching as Lainey laughs at Sal when he starts doing his stupid Popeye impression. It’s his party trick. He must be on his way to total drunkenness. And when I see him wobble his way to the garden at the rear of the bar where all the smokers gather, I know he’s already there. He only ever lights up when he’s pissed as a fart. A few of the others follow him, as well as Lainey.
Returning my attention to the bar, I call for a Scotch and down the lot, ordering another as soon as the barman gives me his eyes. I have three on the bounce before I brave heading back to the guys. I turn and drop down from my stool, seeing Lainey swinging her jacket on as she walks in from the garden. She says nothing as she passes, though her gaze holds mine, and she turns on her heels and starts to walk backward to keep our eyes connected. She smiles, and it’s soft, with maybe a hint of satisfaction. Because she’s going to meet Raul. Good God, that damn fucking burn in my veins is going to kill me soon. How does she keep walking away? Why is she teasing me, because that look, that smile, it was fucking teasing. I know, because I’ve used it a million times before. Yet, she’s using it on me. And it turns me the fuck on. I can’t fuck her, but, God have mercy on my soul, it will be her pussy I’m thinking about when I sink my dick into a different woman tonight. Never in my life have I been in such a tangle. It’s bullshit.
I stride over to Gina, my eyes scoping the joint for any appealing females. Fuck like a Trojan, Christianson. A motherfucking Trojan. When I reach the group, I notice Gina’s started to sway, as have half the others, too. “Don’t be late in the morning,” I warn in jest, knowing it’ll rattle her drunken cage.
“I’ve never been late, you bastard.”
I laugh and look up as Sal pushes his way through the crowd, heading back from the outside space that’s packed with smokers. I smile. “All right, son?” I ask, but he just looks at me, a bit spaced out. “Sal?”
“I’m going,” he mutters, wandering off with his mobile at his ear.
