Page 2 of Distress Signal
“You’re damn right,” I said, then flicked my gaze back to Mr. Tall and Tatted. “You can let him go now.”
He did as I asked, saying, “Get the fuck out of here, Tony, before my brothers and Imakeyou leave.”
Tony held his hands up in surrender, then slowly brought one to his back pocket, withdrew several bills from his wallet, andtossed them on the table before disappearing into the crowd, his flunkies in tow.
All sound in the bar had died at the altercation. Even the band had ceased playing, and my ears rang in the silence.
“Round on me!” Mr. Tall and Tatted shouted, whirling his finger around, then shooting the female bartender a wink as the crowd resumed its evening, the band kicking up an old Alan Jackson tune.
“Very impressive,” I said when he approached.
I knew I could take care of myself, but I’d be damned if that display of masculinity didn’t give me ideas that would set feminism back a few hundred years. This man…he wasthathot.
He shrugged. “I’ve learned a thing or two over the years.” Jerking his head toward the bar, he asked, “Can I get you a drink?”
“This round’s on you, remember?”
“What’ll it be?” the bartender asked when she approached.
“Two vodka sodas, please,” I said.
“Two?” the man asked as the woman stepped away to fill my order. “You’re here with someone?”
“Yes.”
“Damn,” he muttered.
“Oh!” I realized my mistake and chuckled. “I’m here with my sister.”
The man visibly relaxed, his shoulders dropping, and he made an exaggerated show of wiping sweat off his brow.
“Thank fuck,” he breathed. “I was actually on my way over to ask if I could buy you a drink when the whole thing with Tony unfolded.”
With a smirk, I gestured to the bar. “Looks like your plan worked.”
Wait, was Iflirtingwith him?
I wasn’t the girl who turned on the charm to get guys to buy me drinks. That was all Lainey’s domain. Maybe Ihadbeen thatgirl once upon a time. Before life had thrown curveball after curveball at my head, and I spent too long fighting them off to pay much attention to anything else. Now, I was only along for the ride, making sure she didn’t get in too much trouble.
You know, typical big sister shit—even if all that separated us in age was a measly five minutes.
My back pocket vibrated, and I withdrew my phone to find a text from Lainey.
LAINEY
Where the fuck are you? I can feel myself sobering up by the second.
I rolled my eyes.Such dramatics.
The bartender returned with my drinks, and though I was loath to walk away from this sexy as sin mystery man, I needed to get back to Lainey.
Lifting the glasses in the air, I did an awkward shrug-head nod combination and said, “Well, it was nice meeting you. Thanks for these.”
Before he could say anything else, I walked away.
Between sending that text and my reappearance, Lainey seemed to have forgotten all about the alcohol and was instead wholly focused on a different kind of drug: male attention.
Spotting me, she left the guy in question with a caress to his arm and crossed the short distance back to our table.
