Page 42 of Dirty Like Me
I couldn’t help it if I really,reallyliked it when he called mesweetheart.
He leaned in closer, his lips brushing my ear as he said, “You know, Katie, my girlfriend would probably stay, and let me buy her breakfast in the morning.”
Also true.
I blinked up at him, trying to come up with a rational argument, but the idea of a luxury hotel room for the night was alluring. Max was at my sister’s for the night anyway, so it’s not like I had to rush home to my crappy apartment to feed my dog.
I tucked the key card into my purse. “Okay.”
“Go get some rest,” he said, and kissed me on the cheek. “Flynn will walk you over.”
◊◊◊
I made it to the glitzy bar in the hotel just in time for last call. It seemed like as good a place as any to bury my head for a while.
I’d considered going right up to my room and passing out. Maybe taking a hot bath first to soak the more shitty aspects of the night off my skin. But as Flynn walked me over to the hotel and the night’s music rang in my skull, it was impossible to get Jesse out of my head. His songs. His voice. The way he looked up on that stage. The way everything else just seemed to melt away when he sang, like he was singing right to me.
The feel of his warm, guitar-string-calloused hand in mine.
And Josh, sizing him up.
That arrogant asshole. Only he could do something so tasteless. Turning up out of nowhere, injecting himself back into my life and trying to ruin this for me.
But then I did something even more tasteless. I lied right to Jesse’s face.
I said I was going on tour with him, right there in front of Josh, and Brody.
The buzz from the bubbly I’d drank at the party was starting to wear off, and I wasn’t ready for it. Somehow I managed to convince Flynn to leave me at the elevator, and when he was gone, I made a beeline for the hotel bar. As I walked in, I just hoped my sexy red dress was dressy enough. The place was dripping with chandeliers. I’d only been in a more opulent bar once; the one Josh’s dad had booked for our wedding reception.
The wedding reception that never happened.
I went straight to the bar and shrugged off my lucky leather jacket. There were a couple of men in suits at the far end, but the room was emptying out. Wait staff were clearing tables and flirting with lingering customers. Some crazy-sexy slow song was playing and it made me want to go straight back to that party and slither into Jesse Mayes’ lap.
Maybe I should just fuck him and get it over with. It couldn’t possibly make my life any worse.
“What can I get you, hon?” The female bartender came over. “We’re doing last call. You’ve got about twenty minutes. “
“Southern Comfort and amaretto on the rocks, please. Lots of cherries. Make it a double. Actually, since it’s last call, make it two doubles. And two for him.” I gestured at the empty bar stool next to me as if I was expecting a date any second. Drinking eight shots of liquor myself in the next twenty minutes probably wasn’t the best idea, but at least it would help erase this lingering awful taste Josh, Jr. had left in my mouth. And not just with his tongue.
The bartender went to make my drinks. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirrored wall behind the liquor-lined shelves; at least I didn’t look like the mess I felt. I caught the eye of one of the suits at the far end of the bar. His gaze lingered, but I looked away.
The bartender returned, setting the drinks on the bar on a couple of cocktail napkins—two in front of me, and two in front of my non-existent date. “Thanks.” I started digging my wallet out of my purse.
“No need, hon,” the bartender said. “The gentleman at the end of the bar took care of it.”
I glanced over. The two guys in the suits were looking at me. The younger one, about thirty or so, handsome, maybe a little drunk, raised his glass.
I turned back to the bartender. “Thanks.”
“Cheers.”
She walked away and I picked up my first drink, considering. Maybe it was rude not to thank the stranger who’d paid for my drinks, but I really didn’t want him coming over. I sipped at it, letting the sweet tang of the liqueurs linger on my tongue, the warmth flooding my chest. I closed my eyes and instantly saw him, burned into the black: Jesse, up on stage, rimmed in multi-colored lights.
“Feel like company?”
I opened my eyes but didn’t turn around. I could see him in the mirror, the guy from the end of the bar, standing behind me with a drink in hand.
“I’m here with my boyfriend,” I managed, my tongue finding the words before my brain caught up. “But thanks for the drinks. You really didn’t have to.”
