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“I did?” His shock is genuine considering he’s been shooting down my requests for nearly a month.
My palm smacks my forehead. “Good grief. Go over there and hump her leg already. You know you want to.”
Garrett scoffs. “Do not.”
“Then it won’t bother you that her date showed up.” I blindly gesture at the man I spied snagging the seat across from her.
“The fuck?” His hands slam onto the counter, ready to propel himself over the wood and haul ass in the vixen’s direction.
“Oh, my. Are you seeing this, ladies?” I swing my gaze from right to left. My two friends flank me, one on each side. “Knox Creek’s most eligible bachelor has finally found the one who makes his charm falter.”
Ginger hums in agreement. She props an elbow on the bar and rests her chin on a closed fist. “Never thought I’d see the day, or have a front-row seat for the show.”
Garrett scowls at our antics. “Her drink is almost empty. She’s a paying customer, and it’s my business to fill her up.”
“Let’s be honest. You wanna fill her up with more than vodka and soda,” Ginger jests.
I snort into my margarita. “Yeah, boss. The expectations are real classy in this joint. Maybe that should go on a coaster.”
“That the cock den attracts gorgeous women? Helluva slogan,” he boasts.
“She’s very attractive,” I agree with a play on his words that supports my earlier assessment.
“More like smoking fucking hot.” The fact that his filter is on the fritz cracks me up.
My entire upper body shakes until wasted booze sloshes from my glass. “Wow, tell me how you really feel.”
“Already did and you’re cracking jokes.” His fingers tunnel into his already mused hair.
“Can you blame me? Your feathers are ruffled.”
“I’m fine.” Garrett smooths a palm down his shirt and turns away. There’s a cluster of loyal regulars who won’t bat an eyelash at his unusual behavior.
“Uh-huh. Put her next round on our tab. She lowered your guard,” I call to his retreating form.
“Cheers to that.” Ginger clinks her glass against mine.
“Now we get to shake our booties until the lights go off,” I whoop.
Callie’s wide eyes appear positively horrified by the thought alone. “Count me out.”
That’s the first time I’ve heard her speak since we sat down. Her meek demeanor stems from being trapped under strict archaic values for twenty-one years. It’s going to take more than a rebellious raspberry lemonade to shed her oppressive upbringing. Small steps in the right direction, though. She was the one—shockingly enough—to initiate this outing.
Her downcast gaze slides to the right, peeking upward ever so slightly. Ridge is towering over that general area in his typical stoic stance. The guy exudes intimidation, but he’s a total gentle giant to those who matter. A smile tugs at my lips while I glance at the timid girl beside me. Maybe Callie just needs stronger motivation.
“Oh, Garrett.” I beckon him over with a deceptively polite wave. “Do you mind if we clear some space for our bumping and grinding? Also, is the smoke machine still hooked up?”
A defeated sigh escapes him. “Ridge and Drake can move shit for you.”
“Where’s Drake? I haven’t seen him.” Leather creaks as I lift off the stool to do a visual sweep.
“In the office, probably licking his wounds.”
Ginger leans forward with a gasp. “Did he finally end things with Marissa?”
“Either that or it’s his time of the month to be a grumpy asshole.”
“Sounds familiar,” I mumble at the latter part of his statement.
