I ask Dominica for a knuckle shot. It’s a specialty here at The Wilted Flower. Similar to those viral hurricane shots, but with a little extrapunch.
Moments later, she returns with a gleam in her eye, asking me, “Who’s doing the honors, you or me?”
I raise my hand as Dominica looks at the man in disgust, then back at me. “Let ’em have it.”
“Oh, I will.”
Mr. Armani catches my gaze, mouthingAre you okay?
My lips part, mouthing aYesback.
I feel him staring at me as I approach the barstool thief himself, giving him the smaller of the two glasses Dominica prepared before I hop up onto the bar top.
I give the man a flirtatious wink.
“What are we toasting to?” he asks.
Still on the bar top, I shift to my knees, looking past him to Mr. Armani, who is standing there acting as if he’s my bodyguard. Lifting my glass of water to his shot glass, I cheers. “To a fun and sexy night ahead.”
“Ooh, I like that,” the man slurs, and once again, he goes to place his hand on me, but I scoot back just enough to get out of his reach, but it doesn’t quite work and he still makes some contact, brushing his palm against me.
If it weren’t for what I am about to do, I’d make a scene right now, but I’ll refrain for the time being.
“Drink up,” I say, as our glasses clink together.
He downs the alcohol, and the moment he sets the glass on the bar top, he glances at my full cup. “Hey, now,” he whines, jokingly.
I flatten my free hand over my mouth. “Oops, silly me.” I grip the glass tight as I thrust it upward, splattering the ice-cold water all over his face before I complete the knuckle shot, with a swift and hard punch to the face.
A crowd forms around us, cheering. Everyone here knows what a knuckle shot is. They’re reserved for assholes who deserve it.
“I’d take that as a warning to go home and sober up, Pastor Rob.”
I recognized the drunk man within seconds of seeing him. He’s one of the pastors at the church my parents attended when they lived in the city years ago. Mortified that I recognized him, he stumbles away without saying another word.
Just as I’m about to get down from the bar, Dominica snaps for my attention. “Not so fast, you got another shot coming your way.” She nudges her head at my date, who is rolling up his sleeves, revealing a sea of veins on his naturally tanned and muscular forearms, that I want to fucking lick one by one.
“Umm, what kind of shot did he order?”
“The kind that requires you toliedown,” Dominica says, glancing at my outfit. “You chose the wrong night to wear a dress. I’ll grab you a bar towel.”
He didn’t order what I think he did.Did he?
This night seems to be getting more interesting.
CHAPTER 5
TOMÁS
“Interesting,” my mystery woman hums. “You don’t strike me as the body shot type.”
That’s an accurate assumption. I can’t recall the last time I’ve done one. Probably because this is the first time it’s ever crossed my mind to.
I shrug. “I guess I felt inspired. What can I say?”
“It was the punch, wasn’t it?”
Yes.
