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“Let’s go.” Dom stands from the couch.
I follow.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Evie asks, spinning around.
“You all look good…” My eyes zero in on Bella, who catches me soaking her in.
“Huh. And here I thought you knew how to sweet-talk a woman.” Evie is the first one out the door.
Mae follows, leaving Bella, and I press my hand to the small of her back, getting close enough that no one else hears. “You’re stunning, and if you were trying to get me to not notice you, you wore the wrong outfit.”
Her back straightens and her body trembles.
Now tell me she doesn’t feel something.
“Stop taunting,” Dom says from behind me.
Bella catches up with her friends, and just as I’m about to climb in next to her, Dom yanks me back by the collar of my shirt.
“You can ride shotgun.” He slides in next to Bella.
I release a frustrated sigh, taking the seat next to the Uber driver of the seven-seater SUV.
Evie and Mae talk non-stop about how excited they are, and I wonder how much they drank while getting ready. Bella is quiet, and Dom doesn’t say anything other than directing the driver where we’re going.
The music is thumping at the outside bar when we arrive. The girls pile out, Evie leading the way. She sweet-talks the bouncer and they walk in. We approach only to have the asshole put up his hand. Dom slips him a hundred and he steps aside. Money can buy everything.
“Thanks, big bro!” I slap him on the back while trying to find the girls. They obviously don’t care if they party with us.
“Next time, you’re up. I’m going to the bar.” He winds through the throngs of people while my eyes scour the crowd for the redhead who’s quickly becoming my obsession.
By the time I spot her, the three girls are on the deck that overlooks the ocean. Two guys have found their way to them, one looking like he’s purchasing their drinks.
Fuck this. What the hell am I doing? Chasing some chick to try to get her out of my mind? There are lots of women who can do that.
Instead of heading to the deck, I follow Dom to the bar.
“Two shots of whiskey.” Dom raises his fingers in case the bartender can’t hear how many.
“Shots?” I ask.
Dom isn’t a get-drunk-quick kind of guy. Whenever he does lose control, it’s at a wedding or a bachelor party. Where the day is long and one drink spills into the next and before you know it, eight hours have passed. He’s never been the one who drinks as much as possible to get loaded.
“What do you want?” he asks.
“I thought one of the shots—”
“No.”
The bartender places both shot glasses in front of him and pours the alcohol. As I’m ordering my beer, Dom downs the shots. I look quizzically to my left.
“Another two,” Dom says.
The bartender removes the cap from my bottle of beer then pours another two shots of whiskey. Dom downs them and stalks off without a word.
“Hey!” the bartender calls after him.
“I got it.” I pull my cash out of my pocket and tip him generously with the hope that next time he sees me, he’ll come my way first.
