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“Which I’d freely offer if I believed you,” he counters.
I tuck my arms tight across my chest, prepared to defend my truce with Jake. The doubt and disappointment can take a hike. “Then I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see where the night takes us.”
Ridge—who I didn’t even realize returned to his post behind the bar—slides an overflowing shot glass in front of me. “For you.”
I give the suspicious peachy-colored liquid a cursory glance. “What is it?”
A deep dimple dents his cheek when he smirks. Almost positive Callie sways in her seat. “Pink Panty Dropper.”
Laughter spews from between my pressed lips. “For real?”
“Yep, mixed it myself.”
“From who?” Better not be him. My eyes narrow on Callie’s behalf.
Ridge jabs his thumb at a very specific target. “Evans.”
A fierce blush stings my cheeks. “He wouldn’t.”
“He did,” Ridge confirms with a straight face.
“Just friends,” Garrett grunts. “Just like I didn’t get hard when that hot chick tongued her cherry.”
My laugh holds more snort than humorous notes. “Real classy.”
He winks. “I’m beginning to think that should be our slogan.”
“Ask Jake. He’s clever as fuck.” Ginger hasn’t stopped giggling and nudges the shot toward me. “Bottoms up, babe. We’ll see how long it takes for those pink panties to drop.”
It was a mistake coming to Roosters. That couldn’t be more glaringly obvious as I simmer in a furious stew of my own making. I almost canceled Syd’s sleepover with Polly as a last-ditch effort to force myself to stay home. But that would be selfish, and proof that my restraint has crumbled.
The evidence accompanies me where I currently sit, though. My weakness is on display right in front of me, mocking my most recent failed attempt. I can’t control the demand to watch Harper. All else disappears as usual. Even the cold bottle in my grip is forgotten.
Lush hips swing at a hypnotic pace that has my mouth watering. A feverish beat pounds from the speakers to sync with her allure. Colorful beams of light swoop down to bathe her features in a pulsing glow. She’s seductive, her sensual rhythm too intimate for a public place. The shot I bought her no doubt lubricated these already fluid motions. Another careless error on my part.
I absently take a swig from my beer but taste nothing. Harper’s captivating spectacle has gained the attention of everyone within viewing distance. Bodies revolve around her like she’s the sun. Nobody gets too close, probably in fear of burning. Or maybe they can feel my wrath ready to strike.
She grinds against the steam that billows from her intoxicating efforts. The temptress knows she’s irresistible. Her arms lift and curl to embrace empty space. I could fill that void. Fuck, the temptation almost shifts me into drive. If she so much as crooks a finger, I’ll come running with my tongue lolling.
“Why do you insist on torturing yourself?” Garrett blocks my direct line of sight. His smirk reveals that the position is intentional.
Tension radiates across my strained posture. “Why do you care?”
“You’re spoiling the mood for my customers.” His explanation is similar to the shitty excuse that Ridge spewed not too long ago.
My tolerance for their complaints has decreased significantly since then. “Too fucking bad.”
Garrett’s glare threatens to kick my ass to the curb. “Wanna try that again?”
“No.”
“Then allow me to give you some much-needed guidance.”
If the bottle in my hand was a can, it’d be crushed. “I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Too fucking bad,” he repeats my foul attitude. Then he leans in as if this is a private conversation. “I want you to get off your cranky ass, stalk over to the spot you haven’t quit glaring at, and officially claim the girl you’re crazy about.”
“Bother someone else with your meddling.” My gaze attempts to return to Harper like an addiction that craves its next fix.
