Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 152064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
“I’ll keep the worst of the wolves away.”
He lets me pull him to the dance floor, which is rarely used for its intended purpose. It’s mostly full of our friends standing around, chatting. Dred arches a brow at us, but I don’t care. All I want is to stay inside this little bubble with Flip and nothing else matters.
The DJ at the Watering Hole usually sucks, but I can dance to anything.
I spin to face Flip, which on any other day I would manage with grace. But the shots finally hit me, and the room spins too. I trip over my own feet, falling into a set of arms.
“Whoa, hey.” Quinn Romero rights me, hands on my hips.
“Sorry.” I pat his chest. “I’m a little tis-pee. Tippy. Tipsy.” I close an eye so there’s only one of him and hold my fingers apart.
“That you are.” A dimple appears high on Quinn’s freckled cheek.
His eyes are a warm seafoam green, and his jaw is angular.
“How are you single?” I blurt.
He laughs. “Oh, you’re really drunk, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. But seriously, you’re gorgeous, and you’re nice, so you should totally have a girlfriend.” The room is spinning in earnest now, so I clutch his bicep to stay upright. “Prolly time to go home,” I mumble.
Quinn’s expression softens. “I can take you. I was getting ready to leave anyway.”
“No.” A strong arm snakes around my waist, and I stumble back into Flip’s hard chest. “I’ve got her.”
“I’m fine.” My stomach roils dangerously, as reality sets in. “I’ll just take an Uber.” I don’t want to throw up on Flip, or in his car, and I’m worried both options are possible with the way the world has turned into a tilt-a-whirl.
All the things I’ve done tonight in the name of sidelining the shitstorm that is my life tumble down in a hailstorm of embarrassment. I sat in Flip’s lap, and he let me. He let me pull him onto the dance floor. He called me kitten.
Does he feel sorry for me?
Is he placating me?
I’m confused and angry and sad and mortified and growing drunker by the second.
“You’re not taking an Uber,” he growls.
I look up at his beautiful face and wish I could see inside his head to understand his motives, but I’m too scattered and messy. Flip bends and slides his arm under my legs, lifting me off the ground. I’m all muscle and heavier than I look, but he holds me like I weigh nothing.
“What are you doing?” I drop my forehead to his shoulder and close my eyes to stop the merry-go-round as he crosses the room.
“Taking care of you.” He carries me out of the Watering Hole and into the cold December night.
CHAPTER 6
TALLY
Flip sets me in the passenger seat and closes the door, blocking out the blustery December cold. He tucks his chin as he rounds the hood to the driver’s side.
I’m terrified, not of Flip’s disapproval or what all our friends must think—although that will come later, when I’m sober—but I fear I might hurl all over the leather interior of his luxury sports car. It’s new. He bought it this summer. It’s black and sleek and smells like him. I wish I could appreciate that I’m sitting in it, but my stomach is unhappy with my choices.
Flip settles into the driver’s seat and fastens his seat belt. Then he leans across, his hair brushing my cheek, and does the same for me. He backs up, gaze moving over my face. “Shots hitting you hard?”
I nod, but it makes everything spin. “Yeah.”
“It’s been a rough day, huh?”
“It started out great but went downhill at dinner.”
“I’m really sorry, kitten.” He opens the center console and passes me a reusable grocery tote. “In case your cookies need to be tossed.”
“Thanks.”
Being alone in his car with him is high on my fantasy list, but the being-too-hammered-to-function part is not.
He pulls out of the lot and into the sporadic late-night traffic. I stare into the bright green bag from the budget-friendly grocery store. Of course this is where Flip shops. He grew up poor. It doesn’t matter that he makes millions a year now. He still remembers where he started.
Too short a time later, he pulls into an underground parking garage.
I glance around, bleary-eyed and confused. I must have fallen asleep during the drive. “Where are we?”
“My place. I wasn’t convinced we’d make it to your apartment without an incident. I have a spare bedroom,” he explains.
“Oh. Good call.” It’s all I can think to say. Now my head is reeling just as much as my stomach. Flip brought me home with him. It’s what I’ve always wanted, but it’s for all the wrong reasons.
He pulls into his designated spot and cuts the engine. It takes me a few seconds to realize I can’t get out without some action on my part. It takes several tries, but I finally hit the release button.