“Oh, hey, hi, Theo. I’m fine… good… great… never better. I’ve had the best night of my life.” She shook her shoulders from his grasp and flung her arms out wide. “Dating in New York is s-super.”
“I’m taking you home.” He once again put his hands on her shoulders and made to turn her around to lead her to his car. But she put her hands on his chest and pushed him away.
“I’m not ready to go home. I have not been on one decent d-date yet.” She stamped her foot like a child. “I didn’t move from Aus-straya to go on shitty dates. I’m going to find one myself.” She swung around and took a few steps.
He grabbed her wrist and led her from the middle of the sidewalk to the shadows of a building away from pedestrians. “Where are you going?”
“To a nightclub to find a date.” She rolled her eyes at him. “Hey,” she pointed her finger at him. “You own a club. Let’s go to yours.” She grabbed his hand and tried pulling him.
Theo didn’t budge. “It’s not open tonight.” A truth. Alto was never open on Tuesdays.
Her lip dropped. Then she smiled, and her eyes lit up. “You’re the owner, right? You can open up for us.”
Ah… the logic of inebriation. “The club’s empty. How will you find a date?”
She slapped a hand to her forehead. “This night keeps getting worse and worse.”
“It can’t be that bad. You seem to have a nice buzz going on,” he chuckled.
She giggled. “A bottle of wine will do that.”
“Come on. Let me take you home.”
She blew a strand of hair from her eyes. “I don’t want to go home.”
“What do you want to do?” he asked.
“Dance.”
“Dance?” he repeated.
“Yep, the night might have started off like hairy donkey balls, but that doesn’t mean it has to end like crap. Dancing makes me happy.” She did a wonky twirl, and he caught her around the waist before she toppled over.
Their bodies bumped together, and her hands landed on his chest. Their eyes locked. Then she lowered her head and played with the top button of his shirt. He held his breath when her fingers brushed the skin on his neck. It took all his might to let her go and step back.
She pouted. “I’m not going to find a date tonight in your club, but you can still open up for me.”
“What for?”
“To dance.” She pulled a face like he was stupid.
God, watching out for Chloe was hard work. The girl didn’t have an ounce of logic, particularly when inebriated. All of a sudden, Chloe’s charade on her birthday made sense; she was a naive and careless drunk. It was a problem. A problem that wouldn’t be as big of an issue if she were still in Australia, but in a city like New York, it would be. Especially with the kind of guys who trolled clubs—he would know, he owned one. Fuck, Ethan owed him big time.
“You want to dance in an empty club?”
“Yes.” She blinked up at him through long, thick lashes and glassy green eyes.
He blew out a long breath. “Fine. But before we go, you need to eat.” And hopefully that would sober her up enough to change her mind about going to the club and dancing.
“Pizza. I’m craving pizza.” She did a little happy dance, drawing his eyes to her hips. Christ, she was killing him. He needed the night to end.
They walked a few feet to a restaurant that sold pizza by the slice and sat at a table outside. The city buzzed with life around them. Cars honked at each other. Across the road, an elderly Black man with a cane was selling canvases of New York City landmarks. Most pedestrians hurried past him without a glance. Chloe didn’t seem to notice any of it, too engrossed in her food.
Watching Chloe across from him, there was something Theo was engrossed in too, and it wasn’t pizza.
“This is so good,” Chloe moaned around a mouthful of food. “I’ve never been able to buy pizza by the slice in Sydney. Another great reason to move to New York.”
“Why did you leave Australia?” Theo asked, trying to ignore the moans of pleasure and the way her tongue darted out of her mouth to lick her lips.
