He’s goading me.
Did I mention I have a competitive streak?
Ignoring him, I twist in my seat, praying to God that Tom has not left the bar with the blonde already. I look for him while I figure out how I’m going to win this bet.
He’s still here, and he’s not kissing her. Good sign.
But she’s all over him, and he’s not pushing her off.
Tom glances across the bar at me. I quickly look away.
I wait a few seconds and then look back.
The blonde is whispering in his ear. He laughs. Then, his hand comes to rest intimately on her hip.
I start to feel a bit sick.
He can’t have sex with her because…because…
I can’t lose this bet. If I lose, I’ll never hear the end of it from Sonny.
Chaka Khan’s “Ain’t Nobody” starts to play in the bar. The blonde seems to get overly excited by the song.
She slips her leg in between Tom’s, straddling his thigh. She starts to gyrate against his leg—well, gyrate is putting it cleanly. She’s dry-fucking his leg.
Shit.
He’ll have her bent over the bar, and be doing her in seconds at this rate.
My eyes squeeze painfully shut on the thought. My fingers curl into my palms, nails biting into my skin.
And that’s the reason for what I do next. I’m blaming Chaka Khan for initiating dry-leg-fucking, and I’m sticking with it.
Nothing to do with the fact that I’m sick with jealousy.
Nope, nothing to do with it at all.
I stand, picking up my beer, and head straight for Tom and his blonde groupie. I’m so beyond ready to put an end to their little show that it’s not even funny.
Tom’s eyes flicker up at my approach. There’s a note of wariness in his look. Then, he smiles—no, he grins, which pisses me off to no end.
Bastard.
My blood starts to boil.
“I just can’t fucking believe this!” I cry at Tom.
The blonde jerks away from him at the sound of my wailing.
“I can’t believe that you’re doing this to me—again!” I thrust my hand out at him.
Shock slackens his features.
“You promised you loved me!” I say in a whiny voice, making strangled noises like I’m about to start bawling. I even wipe my nose on my sleeve for effect.
“You promised this wouldn’t happen again! After the last time, when I caught crabs from you, I had to go to the doctor and have all that smelly medicine spread all over my vagina! I trusted you when you said it wouldn’t happen again! But here we are—again—with another groupie!”
I throw my arms up just for good measure. A bit of beer sloshes from the glass onto my wrist.
“You’re a lying, cheating son of a bitch, Tom Carter! We’re so fucking over that it’s not even funny! One hundred percent over!”
Tom opens his mouth to speak, but I don’t give him a chance.
I chuck my beer in his face.
The blonde jumps back, avoiding the splash.
It’s then I realize the whole bar is silent. Chaka Khan has stopped singing, and all eyes are on me.
Shit. Fuckity fuck.
I think I might have gotten a little carried away.
Tom drags a hand down his face, clearing the beer away.
Reaching over, I place my now empty glass on the nearest table. “Okay…well, I think it’s time for me to go.”
I give an uneasy smile to the bartender who is staring at me from behind the bar.
Avoiding Tom’s eyes, I turn on my heel and quickly make my way back to the guys. Eyes down, I don’t look up until I reach our table.
The guys are looking at me like I’ve grown three heads, but I catch the knowing smirk on Shannon’s face.
“Um…what the hell was that?” Sonny practically growls at me.
“That was me winning our bet.” I give him a smug smile as I lift my hand to my mouth. I lick the sticky beer droplets from my wrist. “Cough up. I believe you owe me one hundred dollars.”
“Holy shit!” Van laughs. “She totally stung you, man.”
Grinning at me with admiration, Van lifts his hand to me, so of course, I have to high-five him.
Sonny gives us both a dirty look, and then he reaches into his pocket. After pulling out my winnings, he dumps two fifties onto my outstretched hand.
“Nice doing business with you. I’ll see you boys back on the bus.”
Then, I’m out of there lickety-split, ignoring the look Cale is giving me. The one that’s saying, We’ll be having words later.
When I hit the nighttime air, I stop, my heart pounding like a bitch in my chest.
Oh my God! I can’t believe I just did that!
A strangled laugh escapes me.
I start walking again, but the farther from the bar I get, the realization of what I just did in starts to sink in.
I just made a public scene and threw beer in Tom’s face.
People will now think he and I are together.
And Tom is famous. Really famous. Stunts like the one I just pulled are newsworthy.
No, it’ll be fine. I can’t imagine anyone in there being the type to call up the tabloids.
I’m halfway across the parking lot, heading for the bus, when Tom’s voice rumbles out like thunder from behind me.
“What the fuck was that?”
I turn slowly. The fierce look on his face makes me almost buckle under the pressure.
I steel my confidence, keeping my expression neutral. I place my hands on my hips. “You’re welcome,” I say, giving some attitude.
His eyes narrow. “I’m welcome?” He takes a few steps toward me, his long legs eating up the space between us.
I fight the urge to back up.
“Welcome for what exactly? You screaming at me like a banshee in a public bar or for the beer you threw in my face?” He slashes a hand down his beer-soaked T-shirt, which is clinging to his hard chest and thick biceps and—
Focus, Lyla.
“Um…for saving you,” I say calmly. I feel anything but calm. My insides are rattled, and my thoughts are swirling like a storm.
“Saving me? From what?”
I give him a duh look. “From the blonde who wouldn’t leave you alone.”
His face goes from angry to confused and straight back to angry.
“You’re telling me that all that in there was because you thought I needed saving from the hot blonde who was minutes away from sucking my dick?” He takes another seething step closer. “Have you forgotten who I am? I’m not the fucking pope, Lyla! I’m Tom Carter, and it’s well known that I really like hot blondes, especially ones who are more than willing to get down on their knees and suck my cock!” Another step. “And just because you haven’t seen that from me this past week doesn’t make it any less true.”