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The girl behind the counter smacked the bottles down. Brian leaned further over the bar. “There a band playing tonight?”
She shook her head, no, and bumped the till in with her hip, showing off the top of a tattoo peeking out of her low-cut jeans. She must have seen him staring at it. “It’s a daisy.” She had a small voice and had to shout to be heard over the crowd, but she seemed happy enough to linger there with him, pulling down the side of her jeans to offer a better look.
Brian smiled at her. She was pretty with nice curves. “You got a boyfriend?”
She blinked twice, with a stalled out smile hanging on her lips before answering. “You move pretty fast, mister. Don’t much bother with names or any of the usual pleasantries, do you?”
Feeling like an ass, he shrugged and shook his head. “No, no. I just… You’re pretty. But I didn’t want to bother you if you had a boyfriend who wouldn’t appreciate me doing it.”
She seemed amused, but her neglect of the patrons was catching up. “Looks to me like you could take on most guys whether they appreciated your talking to me or not. But as it is, I don’t have a boyfriend. And my name is Daisy. Like the tattoo. Gotta work.”
She winked at him, then changed gears to taking drink orders and ignoring requests for an encore viewing of the tattoo. Brian followed her progress down the bar, but it felt more like a duty than it should have. There was nothing wrong with her, but he couldn’t help thinking that she didn’t make him want to listen. The chemistry wasn’t there.
Brian turned back around to find Neil wrapped around a buxom female. She giggled as Neil whispered into her ear. Looking down at the four beers, Brian knew that no matter how parched his friend might be, at times like these, it just wasn’t cool to interrupt and offer a refill.
Taking a deep slug from one of the bottles, Brian was lonely. Daisy’s interest didn’t excite him. And she wasn’t really available, in the immediate sense, anyway. How was it that other than Neil, he didn’t know a soul in this place tonight? He planted his ass on a barstool and finished off the first of the four-bottle round. No sense in denying it, he was sulking. What a pisser.
By the end of the third beer, the scene wasn’t as depressing as he’d found it thirty minutes before and halfway through the fourth, Brian was feeling downright sociable. Daisy was swamped at the other end of the bar. And though she’d made it a point to glance down at him, periodically throwing an impish smile his way, she still didn’t do it for him.
Turning away from the bar, his newfound friendly attitude knocked directly into the very woman who had kept it under wraps for a solid week. Amber stumbled back, spilling a full drink down her chest, as he grabbed her arm to keep her from falling.
Shit.
Exasperation evident, she looked up from the white tee-shirt plastered against her breasts, clearly not expecting to meet Brian’s eyes. Anger instantly replaced the mere annoyance. She wrenched her arm from his supportive grasp and glared at him.
He couldn’t believe she was here, and he couldn’t believe the way that betraying mouth of his was splitting into a wide smile at the sight of her. The drink he’d knocked into her chest made her look like a first prize taker in a wet tee-shirt contest. Her nipples, dark circles against creamy swells, were bunched into tight buds under the chill of the thin material. Her breasts hung loose tonight, no bra constricting them, just the full round curves, sexy in their gentle swing. He knew what he wanted. To just reach out and touch them, take their weight in his palms.
A shrill whistle followed by a loud hoot broke through his admiration for Amber’s tits. He wasn’t the only one enjoying the show. Amber’s eyes darted around the room as she crossed her arms over the fabric plastered against her chest.
“I’m sorry…about the drink I mean.”
She mumbled, “Oh, about the drink.” Then her gaze shot back to him and, apparently forgetting about modesty in the crowded testosterone-charged bar, she put one hand on her hip and jabbed the other into Brian’s chest. “Well, thank God you apologized for offending me with a well-drink. Very much the gentleman. Now, get out of my way.”
She tried to shove him aside and in doing so attracted even more attention to her breasts, which might have actually sparked less interest if she’d been totally naked. As it was, she was turning into the number one attraction for the night. Hell, it was all Brian could do to keep from running his hands over them and brushing the hard nipples with his thumbs. He wanted to do it until she moaned his name again.
“This man giving you some trouble?” a burly guy asked. He talked like a gentleman but his stare was locked on the buoyant tits in front of him. A wave of proprietary jealousy Brian knew he wasn’t entitled to washed over him.
“No, thanks,” she said, scowling at Brian. “He’s about to leave. And I’m fine.”
The guy didn’t even bother trying to look away from her chest and when he licked his lips, Brian had enough. “Hey, buddy, get the hell out of here will you? She’ll be fine.”
He turned to Amber who was glaring at him with her hands on her hips. “Is Eric here?” He meant it only to find out if she had someone to look out for her tonight, but it came out sounding accusatory.
She snorted out a laugh and tried to turn away from him with a sloppy wave of her hand. She didn’t look drunk, but she could have had enough where her own sense of invincibility might be impaired and Brian wasn’t about to walk away from her like that. Not with the pack of vultures circling around her transparent chest. Two other guys were already le
aning in, trying to offer their support in getting rid of him and pretty soon he’d be in bad shape if he didn’t resolve the situation.
He unbuttoned his Oxford shirt and pulled it out of his waistband, untucking the plain white tee underneath. He was about to take the top layer off when a seedy pack of crap with a thick mustache and too tight jeans reached out and helped himself to Amber’s left breast, causing her to shriek and turn away, right into another grabby grasp. That was the last straw.
Before he even realized he’d done it, Brian’s Irish was up and running the show with a single well thrown punch. Tight Jeans was flat on his back and holding his hands up against his face. Amber was tucked into Brian’s chest, soaking his tee-shirt with the sodden fabric of her own. Her breasts pressed flat against him as he lifted her with one arm and carried her out of the bar.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she hissed, pushing out of his grasp.
Dumbfounded, he stared back at her. “Are you freaking kidding me, Amber? If I’d known your goal was to get mauled by a bunch of strangers, I would have offered you a second drink to splash over your tits, given you a leg up to stand on the bar.”
“Screw you, Brian. I was fine. That guy was grabby, but I was fine.” Her voice faltered slightly, giving away her shaken state.
He yanked the shirt off and held it out. If he was going to get arrested, he’d at least leave Amber with a little coverage.
