“I gotta piss,” he announced and shot up out of his seat and took off for the bathroom across the room.
I sat there and wondered what I said that was so wrong.
15
Tucker
My dick was broken.
It was so hard it was uncomfortable, and I couldn’t leave the bathroom until it decided to knock it the hell off.
Okay, fine. My dick wasn’t broken. Clearly, it was working just fine.
I needed to get laid.
Like STAT.
I should put Charlotte in a cab, send her packing, and then pick a girl—any girl—at the bar and go home with her. That would take care of this pecker problem.
I thought about a couple of the girls I noticed sitting at the bar. The blonde was pretty hot. An image of Charlotte flashed into my mind.
Okay, no blondes.
There was also a brunette. Brunettes were good.
I thought about Charlotte again. I heard the words she just admitted.
She liked me better than my brother.
Holy hell.
What a freaking clusterfuck.
I went over to the urinal and unbuttoned my jeans. Of course, he sprang out like some secret agent on a mission. Pissing with a hard-on wasn’t the easiest task. It required some heavy leaning.
Stop thinking about your brother’s woman, Patton! Think about someone else!
I thought back to the brunette at the bar. She had long, dark hair, pulled up in a bouncy ponytail. Her top was tight and her boots went all the way to her knees. She looked like the kind of girl I would take home any night of the week. She was exactly what I needed right now.
I looked down.
I wasn’t hard anymore.
Apparently, thinking about my time tonight with the brunette wasn’t appealing to my other brain.
With a sigh, I finished up in the bathroom and headed back toward the table. I realized that I never came up with a response in the bathroom. I had been too busy trying to slow my roll.
She probably expected me to tell her I loved her or some shit. I didn’t tell women I loved them, even if that’s what they wanted to hear. If I was gonna say it, I would damn well mean it.
All the more reason to put her shapely little ass in a cab.
When I arrived back at the table, Charlotte wasn’t alone. She was accompanied by a tray of shot glasses, all of them filled with clear liquid.
Fury laced through me, like a match next to gasoline. What guy sent her over all these damn drinks? He probably saw me leave and was hoping to get her drunk and take advantage of her.
I’d beat his ass.
I began pushing up my sleeves a little more and dropped into my seat.
“Who sent these?” I demanded.
She seemed a little taken aback by my harsh tone, but I didn’t care.
“It seems you have a fan club,” she spat, her tone matching mine.
Wait, what? I glanced up for more of an explanation.
“Those girls over there sent them to you. Along with their regards,” she said, flat.
I glanced over at the bar. Blondie and her dark-headed friend waved. I hitched my chin at them in thanks. They giggled and turned around.
“Ho bags,” Charlotte muttered.
Beer sprayed all over the table when I began to choke. “What did you just say?” I asked in a strained voice.
She gave me a stare. “What self-respecting woman sends drinks to a man who is sitting with another woman?” she asked, her cheeks actually flushing.
I grinned. “Is someone jealous?”
She seemed to be very unhappy about that. She finished off her beer and stood up. Guess she wasn’t jealous; she was pissed. She was probably leaving.
She wasn’t leaving.
I watched as she unbuttoned the blazer she wore and slid it off her arms. Beneath it she was wearing a sleeveless, white silk top that had some kind of extra fabric around the neck that tied in a bow. It kinda looked like a scarf. Hell if I knew anything about women’s fashion.
The shirt hugged her perky, round breasts and revealed a tight-fitting skirt that hugged her ass like a glove. She shook out her blond locks, tangling them around her shoulders, and then she leaned over the table, picked up one of the shots and saluted the girls at the bar.
The girls’ eyes widened and Charlotte downed the shot in a single gulp. The empty shot glass made a heavy thud when she snapped it down on the tabletop.
As the alcohol pushed down her throat, she grimaced, screwing up her face like it was the first shot she’d ever had.
I couldn’t help but laugh.
She sat back down and took a drink of my beer. “Did they see that?” she asked, eyes watering.
I glanced back at our audience. The girls were no longer looking. Charlotte made her point. “Nope.”
“That’s one thing about us lawyers,” she said. “We don’t like to lose.”
Instead of replying, I downed one of the shots. Vodka.
We sat in silence for a few minutes, just drinking and listening to the music. I didn’t look at her. I was afraid if I did, she would remember what we were talking about before I went to the bathroom. But her movements caught my attention and I turned to her. She was swaying to the music from her seat.
I looked at the table, littered with some empty bottles, shot glasses, and wine glasses.
“How much have you had to drink, Charlie?”
“A couple,” she said, slumping slightly in her seat. She reached for a beer and I pulled it out of her reach.
“No more.” I knew the look of a tipsy woman.
She stuck out her tongue at me.
“Better keep that thing in your mouth unless you plan on using it,” I quipped before I could stop myself.
“Saturday is…”—she paused and counted on her fingers—“three days away.”
“So?” I asked, wondering what kind of drunken conversation this was going to be.
She wagged her eyebrows at me.
I laughed.
The waitress came by and I asked her to bring some water for Charlotte.
“This was fun,” she said, giving me a smile.
“Yeah?”
She nodded. “Your voice is amazing. I never knew you could sing like that.”
“Thanks.” Music was just a hobby. Something to pass the time when I was over in the sand. It was a way to deal with all the shit we saw over there. I hadn’t really meant to start singing, but as soon as my fingers hit the chords on that guitar, it bubbled up out of me and I let it.
“I have to pee,” she announced but didn’t get up.
“You know that requires the bathroom, right?”
She giggled. “Duh. I’m not drunk.”
“No, but you sure as hell are amusing.”