Page 42 of Beg for You

“Of course she can, but you’re not just looking out a window, are you? There’s something going on in that beautiful head of yours, and what I’m seeing on your face has me more than a little intrigued. Maybe I’ll get it out of you after a few drinks?”

I was already shaking my head.

Ted wasn’t having any of it. “You owe me. You abandoned me at that gala, and I ended up going home with Becky the bartender.” He scowled. “And shit, turned out the foot fetish wasn’t the worst of it.”

My brows shot up. “Foot fetish?”

Ted leaned against the counter. “The woman spent most of the night making out with my toes. I’m scarred for life.”

I straightened, eyes widening. “You can’t blame me for that! And what can possibly be worse?”

He crossed his arms. “I already have blamed you. And what’s worse is she stole all my socks. What she plans to do with them doesn’t bear thinking about.”

I started giggling.

He smiled, trying to fight back his own laugh.

“That is pretty weird,” I said through my chuckles.

“No shit.” He narrowed his eyes on me. “Face it, you owe me. I never would’ve met the girl if it wasn’t for you. So now you’re going out with me for a few drinks, nothing crazy. If you don’t, I might be tempted to call Becky the bartender to relieve my boredom, and I can’t afford to replace all my socks again.”

How could I say no to an argument like that? And maybe going out wasn’t such a terrible idea. My mind was in a jumble, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t figure a way to get out of my predicament. My father’s calls had become more insistent, and though it didn’t seem like it, the fact that he hadn’t just come to the guesthouse and camped out on the porch meant he was actually giving me space.

He hadn’t shown up yet and demanded we talk, but I knew it would happen if I kept ignoring him.

My father was a lot of things, and despite his recent failings, he was still a businessman. He knew if he pushed me too hard, his deal with Spencer would fall through. In other words, his only bargaining chip might abandon him to clean up the mess he’d made alone.

And then there was Cal. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Today after our appointment, he’d said he wanted to see me again, and not just for a tattoo session. But then he’d gone into that quiet place he went to when he was tattooing and I’d gone inside myself to deal with the pain—the next thing I knew, Dane was there, telling Cal he had a client waiting.

We hadn’t had a chance to make any plans, and since I hadn’t heard from him, I could only assume he was busy tonight or he’d changed his mind.

Maybe he was seeing someone else.

I spun toward Ted, not wanting to contemplate that possibility one more second, and smiled. “Let’s lock up and get out of here.”

Three hours later I was standing on a table in a bar in Springhaven, belting out the chorus to “Gimme Some Lovin’.” The bar had a Blues Brothers tribute band playing tonight. Ted was up there beside me, drink in hand. And Ross, Ted’s younger brother, also a good friend of mine, was there as well and had been buying us shots since we walked in.

Ross handed us fresh drinks—tequila this time—and we all downed them. I screwed my face up and sucked the piece of lemon Ted handed me. I grabbed his collar and tugged him down so he’d hear me over the music.

“Forget Foot Fetish Becky, you could take your pick tonight. You should have come without me. I’m cramping your style.”

Ted slung an arm around my shoulders. “My sweet little Ceecee, I think you’ve had too many of those shots.”

I tilted my head back and smirked at him. “Maybe I’m not so sweet.”

He booped me on the nose and chuckled. “You’re as sweet as apple pie.”

I grabbed the collar of my shirt and tugged it down so Ted could see the single rose on my right shoulder, the one I begged Cal to do after my confrontation with my father. I loved it.

“You got ink!” Ted said, leaning in for a closer inspection.

I crooked my finger at him to come closer still. He swayed toward me. “I’m kinda seeing the tattooist.”

Ted’s eyes went wide. “You’re sleeping with him?”

“Well, not yet, but we’ve done…stuff.”

Ted jumped off the table, grabbed me around the waist, and lifted me off as well. “Who is this guy?”