Page 17 of Last First Date
I can tell from the tone of her voice that the woman in front of me has asked me a question. Ugh. I definitely haven’t been listening though and now I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to her. “Sorry beautiful, I was so distracted by looking at you that I missed what you just said.”
Gross. So gross. I’m even grossing myself out with this crap, but she just gives me a smile full of canary feathers and then reaches for my elbow. I suppress a shiver at her unwelcome touch.Give me some space here, please.
I move away from where she’s touching me but tilt my head toward her and croon at her to tell me something naughty. She giggles, a sharp and plastic sound that she’s obviously rehearsed many times, and then she takes a deep breath to get going again.
My eyes slide to Darcy and the Sleaze again. Now he’s doing one of my moves, the reassuring touch. You know, where you ever-so-casually reach out and touch a woman on a non-threatening part of her body, so she gets acclimated to the sensation of your skin against hers. You start with somewhere innocent—at first. Like her hand, where his greasy little fingers are currently resting.
My heart starts pounding so hard I feel like it might burst through my chest. I want to rush him, punch him in the face, and then drag Darcy out of here dangling her over my shoulder like she’s the spoils of war.
But she’s totally giving him major heart eyes. And is that even a giggle? With a hair toss? Spare me. I want to throw up right in the glass of wine I just bought for the woman who’s still trying to get my attention.
My only consolation in this whole situation is that at least I can give up on my daydreams about anything real happening between me and Darcy. She obviously isn’t interested in me after all, despite the way she was talking to me like I was a real person earlier.
Maybe a beer and a night in isn’t really what she’s about. Or maybe I’m nothing more than a commodity to her too. I’m a nice butt and a certain type of attitude, and that’s it.
Kind of like the succubus in front of me. Heck, even Darcy knows about my reputation amongst the women of Valentine, and I’ve worked hard my entire life to make sure that everyone in town is well aware that I have plenty of money and can dress for success.
I’m not that kid from the rough side of town anymore. I make sure that I look like a big bank account wherever I go, and I’ve always attracted a certain type of woman because of that.
That’s the type here next to me, smooshing up her bee-stung looking lips into a pout that’s meant to seduce. But really, I’ve had more than my fill of this particular brand of pussy. Time to bail on this stupid dating lesson and go rescue Darcy from that snake oil salesman’s clutches.
“I hope you’ll give me just a moment, beautiful. But I need to go check on my friend.” I give her my trial-winning smile. The one I use when I’m trying to sell someone something that they don’t want to buy.
But as I slide away from the bar, the barfly leeches herself right onto my arm. I pause for a moment, trying to decide whether to make my escape from her clutches or make my move to get Darcy out of there.
But then the greaseball with Darcy reaches up and tucks a lock of hair behind one of her ears, and I’m moving out as quickly as possible to her rescue. Because I’ll be damned if I’m going to let him touch her for even one moment longer.
And that’s how I end up tableside with the woman in the too-tight dress still clinging onto me like a barnacle. Darcy’s eyes flit over to where the other woman’s fingers are wrapped around my arm, her long fingernails poking into my arm muscles. Her lips thin out, and then her eyes shoot up to mine accusingly.
“Oh Thom, hi. Have you met Stephen?” She holds her hand out toward him like she’s serving him up on a platter. And he’s still fucking touching her. I might actually kill him if he doesn’t stop.
I don’t break her gaze. “Yeah, I know Garretson. He got hair plugs and highlights a couple of years ago and purportedly can’t last even two pumps and a twist.”
I finally look over at him, and goddamn if he isn’t gasping like a fish with his face turning fifty shades of purple. But at least he’s lifted his hand off Darcy, so I win. I nod at him casually, as if we’re meeting up at an afternoon ball game instead of me watching him trying to poach on Darcy. “Hey there, Stevie.”
His mouth snaps shut as the woman beside me gasps and digs her nails deep enough into my arm that I’m sure she’s going to leave a mark.
I don’t understand women with nails this long and sharp. Do they just not go to the bathroom? Do they hurt themselves every time they wipe? Are they just deeply unclean? The very thought is enough to make me shiver as I reach down and unwrap her from my arm.
I set her hand claws-first onto the tabletop, and then lean toward Darcy. “How’s is going, sweetheart?”
She smiles at me, but it’s tight and vicious looking. Almost like she wants to bite me. “Oh, fine. We’re enjoying ourselves here. But maybe not as much as you and—” she pauses, then drums her long fingers against the table—“aren’t you going to introduce us, Thomas?”
I don’t miss the way she draws out the last syllable of my name so it sounds more like Thom-Ass than anything else. Yeah, she’s definitely pissed off at me right now.
Well good. I’m angry too, and we might as well be angry together if we’re not going to be having fun.
The opportunist next to me flicks her face between me and Darcy during our aggressive verbal sparring. I gesture toward her. “Darcy, this is Miss Scarlet. She did it in the ballroom with the rope.”
The woman next to me laughs, but it’s that too high, jangle-y sounding laugh where we can all tell she’s forcing it out. She doesn’t think it’s funny because I’m not actually being funny. I’m being mean to her right now, and I don’t like that about myself.
This woman hasn’t done anything wrong other than not taking a hint. She doesn’t deserve to be treated like this, especially because I’m not even mad at her. She can’t help who she is, any more than the rest of us can.
She gives a wobbly looking smile to Darcy and Steve. “Hi there, Mister Garretson.” She’s just shy enough with him that she’s either fucked him or tried to.
Great. Because just when I think things can’t get any worse, there’s always another level of awkward or awful to be had. I swear everything about this entire night is cursed.
The man pales, then flushes again. “What on earth is going on here?” He gives me a glare that would have earned him a punch in the face on a normal night. He wiggles his stubby little thumb between me and Darcy. “Are you two like together or something?”
