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“Not to mention a brazen lie. He doesn’t deserve to be in the same area code as you.”
“Thanks.” I grin, but the edges wobble. “My ex spewed similar venom when I had the audacity to ask where our relationship was headed. Turns out he was just stringing me along as a sidepiece. He never intended for me to be anything more than a thick and chunky screw.” I shudder. “His words, not mine. Brent reminded me of him just now. Hit too close to history.”
“Fuck both of them.” He releases me to stare directly into my eyes. “What can I do to make you feel better?”
Other than tumble head-over-heels desperately in love with me?
I laugh at my own pathetic musings, though the tune lacks humor. “Get me good and drunk.”
Garrett’s smirk is already working to restore my spirits.“You got it, soulmate.”
Ridge and Drake are behind the bar with me to ease the heavy load of a Friday night. That’s allowed me to focus on a particular customer. Grace hasn’t left my sight due to the amount of alcohol pumping through her system.
True to my word, the booze is flowing on an endless tap. I haven’t let her drink hit bottom. Her hydration became my main priority when she tasked me with getting her intoxicated three hours ago, and the proof of my diligent productivity is currently swaying in her seat.
This quality time together is beneficial for our blossoming friendship, but a real bitch on my resolve to keep us strictly zoned as such. Especially when she stares at me in a dreamy trance like I’m her hero. Although, that misplaced worship could be blamed on the liquor. Her gaze holds a telltale sheen that suggests she’s about two and a half sheets to the wind. My mission is almost complete.
I lean on the rail, putting our faces a few feet apart. “Hey, Gracie Lou. How’s it going?”
Her smile is lopsided to match the droop in her eyelids. “Just dandy.”
“Want something to eat before the kitchen closes?”
“Maybe a bratwurst that I can chop into tiny pieces for minced meat.” She pounds a clenched fist onto the counter in rapid succession.
I wince at the visual. “Sounds… therapeutic.”
“Men are jerks.” Grace swipes her glass from the safety of a stable surface, generously slurping at the fruity contents. It’s a tangy combination I affectionately dubbed The Peak is Near.
“Not all of them.”
“Only the vast majority I’ve met,” she sighs. “You’re a rare gentleman. Too bad you don’t want to date me.”
An unfamiliar pang strikes my chest. “Don’t take it personally. I won’t date anyone.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She swats a sloppy palm through the air. “It’s just such a shame. You’re smart and sexy and successful and smell like seduction. Yummy.”
My brain knows that this is mostly the alcohol talking, but that doesn’t register with my dick. A dull throb accompanies the warmth spreading in a downward spiral. The flush rising on Grace’s cheeks only spurs the arousal. It’s too easy for me to picture her spread out beneath me, quivering in the throes of pleasure only I can deliver. Her vanilla scent surrounds me as I thrust in and out at a relentless rhythm. That visual strokes my cock until I’m ready to hump the bar.
Instead, I tug at my shirt collar in a weak attempt to stifle the heat. “Um, thanks.”
Grace is oblivious to the fire in my blood, stumbling onto boner-killer territory in the next breath. “My ex was the worst. He strung me along for almost two years. The saddest part is that I believed he wanted a future with me. Foolish.”
Any trace of flames is snuffed as I envision the bastard who dared to do her wrong. “He’s a moron. I hope he’s suffering from a special brand of torture.”
“You won’t hear me disagree,” she laughs.
“Same with that douche from earlier. I’m still pissed at myself for letting him through the doors.”
She sips at her cocktail, pouty lips sealing around the straw like a fantasy. “You didn’t know. Besides, he’s not the first. He certainly won’t be the last.”
“If anyone else has treated you as less than a queen, they better hope we don’t cross paths.”
“Plan to defend my honor?”
“Indefinitely.” I raise my arms and flex, showing off the strength behind my vow.
Grace flutters a palm to her forehead. The pose is too practiced to be authentic. “My very own knight in shining armor. How romantic.”
