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I didn’t even hear or smell her approach me.
Yep, definitely drunk.
I turn away, eyes focusing on the bartender as he starts pouring the shots I ordered.
“Really?” Sloane scoffs. “Now you’re giving me the silent treatment? What are you, eight years old?”
“If you want someone to talk to, why don’t you go call your boyfriend?” I mutter, eyes glazing over as I stare ahead.
“Hmm, don’t have one of those. Try again.”
Slowly, I turn my head to face her, immediately regretting it.
Because she’s so damnbeautiful. As crazy as she makes me, I can’t deny that Sloane Masters is the total package. She’s cute as hell, with her tiny stature and her wild curly hair. The dress she’s wearing clings to her curves, and I’m definitelynotpicturing what her naked body looks like underneath it as my eyes drop down her form, climbing back up slowly. Her plump lips are shiny from some kind of gloss she’s wearing that I’m suddenly tempted to lick off, and let’s not forget those adorable dimples in her cheeks. Those damndimples. Maybe I should try to make her smile so I can see them.
Fuck I’m drunk.
I shake my head in an effort to dispel my thoughts, turning back toward the bar.
“Since when do you like Taylor Swift?” I mutter, thinking aloud.
“Huh?”
I swing my gaze to her again, frowning when I see her with her brow furrowed in confusion, head tilted in question. “Taylor Swift.”
Sloane snorts a laugh, shaking her head. “I don’t know where you’re getting your information, but I don’t listen to Taylor Swift.”
The bartender returns with his hands full of shots, setting them down in front of me. “On your tab, Alpha?”
I nod, watching him line them up.
How the fuck am I supposed to carry these?
As if she’s reading my mind, Sloane reaches out to grab a few, but I swat her hand away with a scowl.
“What’s your deal?” she asks dubiously, folding her arms over her chest.
Too bad it just pushes her boobs up higher and makes them look awesome.
When I don’t answer, she just rolls her eyes, reaching back in. “C’mon, let me help.”
“I don’t need any help,” I grumble, nudging her away and stretching my large hands over the shot glasses as I try and fail to grasp all of them. Changing tact, I try to scoop them all together instead, cupping my hands around the cluster of glasses and sliding them toward me.
“Madd!” she giggles, reaching in to catch one before it goes tumbling off the edge of the bar.
“I said I didn’t need your help!” I bark out- much louder than I intend to. I basically yell it in her face.
Andboydoes it piss her off. I see the playfulness melt from her expression, anger sparking in her eyes as her wolf pushes to the surface in defense, golden flecks swirling in her green irises.
“Fuckingcool it, psycho,” she snaps, pointing a finger at me and pressing it into the center of my chest. “You’re not the only one who gets to be pissed off.”
“What the hell do you have to be pissed about?” I growl.
She just shakes her head.
“No, tell me!” I press, getting up in her space. “Why the fuck areyoupissed off, Sloane?”
She throws up her hands in exasperation. “You didn’t catch me!”
