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Carter
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My eyes widen when I read her text. Is she asking me out?
Fuck. I would love to go flirt and have drinks with her. Is she seriously there alone? She doesn’t seem like the type to do that. What if she is and some guys are hitting on her?
I scrub my hand down my face. “Dammit.”
I should just leave her be. Let her flirt and get her drink on. Go home with someone. She’s a grown-ass woman, she should be able to do whatever she wants.
The thought sickens my stomach. I don’t want her even looking at another guy, let alone flirting or going home with someone. Over my dead fucking body. I don’t want anyone touching her. If I can’t have her, nobody else can either.
I look down at my gray sweatpants and tee. I’d just come from the gym and was settling down to order in when her text came through.
“Fuck it,” I say, heading into my bathroom for a quick shower.
***
Thankfully, Silver Park is only a ten-minute drive so I arrive quickly. My eyes scan the establishment and I spot Taryn with two other ladies. One is the girl she’d been with at Anthony’s at the bar. I don’t recognize the other but she’s pretty.
“Table for one?” a woman greets me.
I shake my head. “Nah. I’ll sit at the bar.”
“Be my guest,” she replies with a smile and gestures toward the bar as if I can’t find it for myself.
Taryn doesn’t see me. Her back is to the door and the bar is off to the left side so I make my way over with no issues.
The place is pretty crowded but I luck out and find a seat at the very end of the long wooden bar. Multiple alcohol bottles are lined up very neatly in front of a mirrored wall.
“What can I get you, guy?” a young blond man asks.
“Scotch, neat. Thanks.”
He eyes my Panerai watch then asks, “Top shelf?”
What do you think?
I give him a curt nod and then turn my gaze back to Taryn and her friends.
Why am I in such a bad mood lately?
This place isn’t exactly a pickup spot, but it’s still a bar and there is still alcohol flowing. And it’s frequented by men because of the large beer selection.
As if on cue, three young men dressed nicely but look to be cocky little shits approach their table and strike up a conversation. The bartender delivers my scotch and I sip it slowly as I watch the interaction. The tallest one puts his hand on the back of Taryn’s chair and uses his beer bottle to indicate her drink. I assume he’s asking her what she’s drinking.
She smiles up at him and one of the other guys grabs three chairs from an empty table. The guy talking to Taryn sits on his backward, straddling it with his arms flopped over the top.
I continue to sip as I watch. I’m both watching the Nuggets game on the television mounted by their table, and then at Taryn and her friends.
My blood boils when I look over to see the guy has his hand in her hair and she’s smiling at him. Then he runs his hand down her neck and rests it on her shoulder.
Do not fucking touch her...
He keeps his hand there as they talk. Their proximity is way too close and I’m going to break that guy’s hand if he doesn’t move it away from her.
After a few minutes, the guy grabs her near-empty glass and heads toward where I’m sitting. They have servers in this place, so I’m unsure why he wants to get her a new drink himself.
He briefly acknowledges me as he stands inches away, trying to get the bartender’s attention.
Finally, the barkeep comes over. “What can I get you?”
I look straight ahead at the TV while I sip and pretend not to listen.
“Vodka soda with a lime, I think. And, bro”—he lowers his voice conspiratorially—“could you add extra vodka?”
The blond bartender deadpans at him, “So you want a double?”
“Nah, just some extra, ya know.” He makes two clicking sounds with his tongue and points to the table of girls. “Hook me up.”
It’s not hard to notice the bartender’s rainbow bracelet, lip gloss, and the amount of attitude and sass he pours out so I don’t think this douchebag is going to get the hookup he thinks he’s going to. I bite back a smile.
I briefly turn to see the bartender bring him back the drink in a glass much bigger than the original and charge him twenty for it. A single is about ten so I’m trying not to laugh.
“Damn,” the guy says, giving him a twenty-dollar bill, and then shoving a dollar into the glass tip jar.
“Cheap prick,” I hear the bartender—who I just noticed is also named Carter, which makes me laugh even harder—mumble as he goes down the bar to help someone else.
So he’s trying to get my girl drunk. Well, go ahead, buddy, because you aren’t taking her home.
I watch as he sets the drink in front of her. She says thank you and takes a sip, then winces. It looks like she’s commenting on how strong it is. But she sips it again. She’s going to be wasted in no time if she drinks that whole thing.
After finishing my scotch, I consider ordering another but I don’t. I close out my tab and just sit and watch. After a few minutes, I see Taryn get up and head for the bathrooms. I wait about thirty seconds and head there myself. There’s a dark wood-paneled hallway that shields the restaurant and bar area from the restrooms so I wait in there for her to come out.
It doesn’t take long, and after she exits, she looks at me briefly and then her eyes widen. “Carter. What are you doing here?”
“You invited me,” I state. “Are you drunk?”
She shakes her head. “No. Got a little buzz. That’s it.” She looks past me then says, “Excuse me.”
As she tries to pass, I grip her upper arm. “I don’t think so.”
She looks down at my hand on her arm and says, “What?”
“Let’s go,” I say, walking her out of the hallway as she tries to loosen my grip.
“No,” she states, digging in her heels.
“Yeah, you’re drunk and that guy you’re talking to is a complete tool.”
She looks up at me with wide eyes. “No, he’s not. He’s nice.”
“He tried to pay the bartender for extra vodka so he could ply you with alcohol and get you into bed.” Okay, so I kind of made up that last part but I doubt I’m wrong.
“Oh, you think I’m that easy, do you?” she asks, yanking her arm out of my grip and folding her arms across her chest.
I shake my head. “No, I don’t, but he does. So let’s go.”
“Go where?”
“Out of here. Say bye to your friends,” I demand.
“Look, I don’t know why you think you can just come in here and order me around, but we’re not at work, so you can go f—”
I yank her arm and spin her around. “Get your shit, we’re leaving. This isn’t up for debate.”
“Fuck you,” she snaps, again untangling herself from my grip to head toward the table.
I’m hot on her heels and get there before her. I lift her purse from where it hangs on the back of her chair.
“Put that back, I’m not leaving,” she protests, but I notice her swaying on her feet a little and her usual fight and sass is a little weak.
I pull a fifty out of my pocket and hand it to her tattooed friend. “For her meal.”
“What the fuck are you doing? I was talking to her!” the tool snaps, standing to try to get in my face. I’m six-two and he’s not even five-ten so it’s sort of funny.
I look down at him. “Get lost.”
He looks at Taryn. “Who is this asshole? Your dad?”
Gross.
“No, but I can whoop ass like one. Move.” I shoulder-check him as I grab Taryn’s hand.
She waves a weak goodbye to her friends, who are eyeing me like they want to key my car.
I unlock the Bugatti and put her into the front passenger seat. I get in and start the engine, but don’t drive yet.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asks.
“Getting you out of there,” I answer, staring into her eyes as the restaurant’s blue signage light reflects on her face.
“I was having a good time,” she pouts, lifting her chin.
I scoff. “I did you a favor, trust me.”
“So, what. Some guy hits on me and suddenly you want to talk to me? To be around me?”
My back molars grind together. “He was touching you.”
Her eyes widen sarcastically, then she grins. “And? I was about to start touching him, too.”
“That’s it. I’m taking you home.” I hit the gas and peel out of the parking lot, heading onto the main road that has way too many cars on it for this time of night.
“That’s fine but after you leave, I’m just going to get an Uber and go back there.”
“The fuck you are,” I snap, shifting gears and passing cars.
She makes a sound of disapproval, then points to the road. “Why are you driving so fast? You’re gonna get a ticket!”
I ignore that because I don’t care. I quickly decide to go to my place, so I cut over three lanes with cars honking at me and take the ramp that will lead to my neighborhood.
“What are you doing? This isn’t the way to my house!”
“I know,” I growl, gunning the engine and shifting gears.
“Slow the hell down, Carter!” She grips my forearm and it immediately calms me. I ease off the gas and unclench my teeth.
Why does this girl have me so worked up?