No. My fantasy girl met my gaze before rolling those mesmerizing eyes.
Even still, she took another few shuffling steps toward me.
“Sit with me,” I invited as I grabbed the whiskey bottle. I was just trying to move it out of her way, but she smoothly stole it from my hold.
“That’s enough of that,” she muttered before retreating to set it on the rusty table near the faded patio furniture.
Come back.
I’d thought my plea was in my head, but she shot me a soft smile. “I’m right here. And you should be over here, too.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said because I would go wherever she wanted.
I just have to hope she isn’t a siren mirage that my fucked-up brain is projecting to get me to launch myself into the abyss.
When did I get so fucking macabre?
It’s this damn town.
I spun around to face the roof, and my dream girl rushed forward as I hopped down. I was going for effortlessly cool, but I was already clumsily loaded. Rather than using all my action hero training to land squarely on my feet, I stumbled forward and was about to faceplant.
A bad outcome for a man who relied on his face for everything.
The siren caught hold of my shoulders to keep me upright, and my hands spanned her waist.
Her very real waist.
The dress was scratchy under my fingertips, but I could still feel the warmth of her emanating through the fabric.
“You’re not a figment of my drunken fantasies,” I murmured.
Her full lips twitched. “I am not.”
“You’re beautiful enough to be.”
“And you’re drunk enough to be seeing three of me.”
“But all three are the prettiest fucking things I’ve seen in my life.”
That got me another eye roll. “Do those kinds of lines usually work?”
“Yes,” I said honestly. “But it’s not a line.”
“Riiiight.” Using the hold she still had on me, she tried to inch us toward the door.
And using the hold I still had on her, I didn’t let her. I didn’t want to return to my party. I didn’t want forced smiles and empty compliments.
I wanted more eye rolls.
I introduced myself with my best pickup line. “Hey, I’m Tripp Carter.”
“I’m aware.”
That was a surprise. I’d taken her flippant attitude to mean she had no clue who I was since no one talked to me the way she had.
Her following me up to the roof made more sense now, though.
Usually, that would kill whatever attraction I felt. Don’t get me wrong, I was grateful for the love I got from fans. I had no problem stopping to chat and sign shit and pose for pictures. I did, however, get annoyed as shit when it was obvious they didn’t know a thing about me and that whatever I signed would be up on eBay within the hour. Or when my rare window of solitude was invaded.
