Page 26 of Dare You to Run
A little drop of whipped cream sits on the corner of Dagen’s lip and Danté leans over and licks it off. It startles Dagen and she jumps back right as his snake-like tongue darts out to wipe it away.
I toss the last ice cube that sits in my glass in my mouth and bite down on it.
“Be back,” I grumble, and slam my fist on the table as I slide out of the booth.
I push my way through the crowd, bypassing those who call my name, and step behind the bar.
“Do you need something, boss?” Lainey, our head bartender, asks just as she passes a drink to a customer.
“Nah, I’m good, Lainey. Just filling up my water.” She nods her chin and goes back to taking orders.
I pack my glass with ice and throw the scoop back into the bin. For about five seconds I think about filling my glass with vodka instead of water, but think better of it and grab the water spray.
“What’s wrong with you?” A terse voice asks from beside me.
I look to my right and see Danté standing there with a hazy fire in his eyes. Despite saying he wasn’t going to drink, he’s been filling that glass with more than just soda.
“Getting water. Something you should have been drinking all night instead of the jack and coke you’ve kept in your glass.”
I shoulder past him and he clamps his hand on my bicep. “I asked you a question, Henny.”
Shrugging him off of me, I take one step back, just far enough that I won’t be able to throw a punch and connect. “Nothing is wrong with me except Dagen clearly said she wasn’t going toget in a car with someone who’s been drinking. Did you even think that maybe there’s a reason why she said that? Yet here you are, throwing back drinks like alcohol is going to be banned tomorrow.”
“You had your chance with her and you let it pass. Don’t sit here and pout now that I have her.” His words are slurred and his eyes are glossy and unfocussed.
“You don’thaveher, D. She came here with you. And when the night is over, she’ll be sleeping at my house. Think about that.”
I leave him standing there, fuming over my words, and return to the table where the others still sit, laughing and not missing either of us.
“Wait, wait, wait. Let me wrap my head around this. So your uncle is Phoenix West, and your other uncle is Bishop Michaels. And yourotheruncle owns The Wranglers. Did I get that right?” Malik rests his elbows on the table and holds his head like it can’t possibly hold another morsel of information.
“Correct.”
“How the fuck did your family get so lucky?”
She lets out a soft chuckle. “Well, maybe they aren’t family by blood. Like you and Hendrix and Danté, they formed their own family. Bishop and my dad have been friends since they were kids, and Phoenix and Bishop played baseball together in college. Phoenix married my Aunt Vivian who was a sports journalist, and she’s my mom’s best friend along with my Aunt CeCe who is married to the italian billionaire, Luca Amato, who owns The Wranglers.”
I watch Malik shake his head slowly from side to side as he tries to comprehend all of the information she just threw at him. She stays smiling, waiting for him to catch up. And when he does he says, “So can you get me tickets to a Wranglers game?”
I smack his chest and he holds his hand to it like I stabbed him.
“Sure, King. I can get you tickets. I’ll do you one better. I’ll ask my uncle to give us the owner’s suite. We can all go, and I’ll block off the cabins at my parents ranch for everyone to stay in. See a game, ride the horses, and shoot some skeet.”
“You better not leave here and forget about your promise. I’m gonna show up and you better have a room for me.” He tries to lean over the table and hug her, but slips when his hand lands on some liquid.
I move quickly to catch him before he face plants, but end up spilling my water and it splashes on Dagen. She yelps and I abandon Malik for her when she jumps back.
“Shit. I’m sorry.” I scoop up the few napkins that litter the table and hand them to her.
“Déjavu,” she says and my hands stop moving.
“At least it’s not scalding coffee,” I add.
A flirty smile crosses her face. “I’m waiting for the nip slip.”
I finish dabbing her wet shirt and feel the weight of her stare. “It was more than a nip slip, little mouse.”
Her chest expands and I hear her stuttered breaths. The smell of Kahlúa fills my nostrils and I so badly want to taste it straight from her tongue.
