“Sorry about that. Here you go,” he says, sliding a small plate of lime wedges next to the glass. He looks at CJ. “You want something?”
“I'm good for now, man. Thanks,” CJ replies, lifting his bottle for the man to see.
I don’t waste any time.
I grab the salt shaker, wet the back of my hand and sprinkle a thin layer there, then I lick it off and immediately shoot the tequila, following that up with a lime wedge I suck on until my cheeks pucker.
“Wow,” I cough. God, that’s like breathing fire. I rub at my throat, then I remember who is standing next to me and attentively watching, judging, thinking he knows me and what I can handle, so I lower my hand to the bar and slide the glass away from me, grabbing the bartender’s attention again. “Another please?” I request. “That stuff’s just . . . the best. So smooth, you know? I could drink it all night.”
He tops me off, eyeing me warily as CJ chuckles under his breath.
“What? It is. I just love it,” I announce, turning my head toward the lurking doubter and flashing him a smile. “It also makes you pretty. I read that in a Texas bathroom once.”
CJ brings his beer to his mouth and takes a slow swig, observing me while he does it. Then he lowers the bottle and lick his lips. “Not sure you need help in that department,” he says, his voice serious now. “I think you’re set on looks, babe.”
I watch his eyes wander lower . . . and lower.
My stomach clenches. I suddenly feel like I’m burning up.
I quickly look away and set myself up for shot number two.
Salt. Lime at the ready.
Then I watch my shot go sliding out of reach when CJ pulls it in front of himself after setting down his beer.
He keeps his fingers wrapped around the glass. Watching me. Waiting . . .
“Are you . . . withholding my alcohol from me, Officer?” I ask, letting go of the shaker and lime wedge before swiveling a little on my stool.
CJ’s brow lifts. “You know I’m a cop?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I’ve seen you around.”
“Really?” He tilts his head to the side, studying me. “And how the hell did I miss you?”
I feel my cheeks warm.
Mm. Must be the alcohol.
“We sort of ran into each other once. Like, literally ran into each other. I was walking into Sam’s Deli and you were heading out. You knocked into me.”
His brows pinch together in confusion. “Are you sure about that? `Cause I’m thinking I’d remember running into you.”
“I’m sure.”
My one and only close encounter with CJ Tully. Not something I’d forget.
Imagine? Yes. Possibly. But I know that isn’t the case here.
“When was this?” he asks.
“I don’t know. A year ago, maybe? You were taking a call on your radio. You were in a hurry. I don’t even think you looked at me. Just apologized and rushed out.” I shrug. “Don’t worry. I didn’t take it personal.”
CJ watches me cross one leg over the other, his brow lifting appreciatively.
“Good to know I didn’t fuck up my chances,” he murmurs.
I blink.
His chances? What chances? Wait. Is he talking about . . .
CJ chuckles, picks up his beer and takes a pull of it.
Good idea. I need more alcohol. I’m officially going nuts over here.
Clearing my throat, I sit forward and gesture at the glass he’s still holding captive. “So, back to my drink. What’s the deal? Are you monitoring how much alcohol I consume?”
CJ licks the beer off his lips and sets his bottle down. “Not yet. I think you can have a couple more before I need to keep my eye on you.”
“And what are you doing right now exactly?”
He grins, admitting, “Trying not to keep my eye on you.”
“Well, you suck at it,” I tell him, smiling when he throws his head back with a laugh.
Oh, that's a really nice sound.
“Can I have my drink please?” I ask after his eyes reach mine again.
“Answer my question first?”
“Depends on what it is.”
He narrows his stare and studies me for a moment while forcing a serious face, which is the exact opposite of what I’m doing.
I’m trying to contain a smile that’s threatening to crack my cheeks wide open.
It’s the tequila.
Honest. It has absolutely nothing to do with his easy charm.
CJ smirks, finally cracking. “Why were you pitching a shit fit with your brother? What was that about?”
I roll my eyes, losing most of my smile. “That's easy. He fired my boyfriend last week and forbid him to come with me to this. He was just being mean about it.” I shrug, adding, “I thought it was rude, so I got rude back.”
“You thought it was rude he fired him?”
“No, I thought it was rude he wouldn’t let him come with me this weekend,” I clarify. “I’m sure Reed had reason to fire him. He wouldn’t have done it if he didn’t. I know that. It’s just . . . I think he could’ve still allowed me to bring him. Don’t you think?”
CJ stares at me for a second, thinking on this, then shakes his head. “Yeah, sorry, darlin’. I’m siding with your brother on this one.”
“What?” My brow furrows. “Why? I really don’t think it would’ve been that awkward.”
“Maybe not. Still. It’s his wedding. If Reed doesn’t want someone at it he has that right. Can’t fault him for feeling that way.” He leans closer to add, “Plus, it’s better for me your guy’s not here. I get a pretty girl to talk to all night and I get her without some asshole giving me shit about it.”
I blink up at him, watching CJ slowly straighten up and resume leaning against the bar.
“You think I’m pretty?” I ask.
He stares at me, brow tightening. “Are you serious?”
I nod through a hard swallow. Memories of my evening before arriving here press like a heavy weight on my chest. “He called me a bitch tonight.”
“Who did?”
“Richard. My now ex-boyfriend,” I answer, looking down at my fingers twisting together in my lap. “He . . . we were fighting about the wedding. The past week, that’s all we’ve been doing. He didn’t think I should go and I didn’t think he should put me in a position to make a choice like that. Then he called me a bitch.” I shake my head, voice lowering when I continue. “I’ve never been called that before. Not by anyone. It felt like he slapped me, you know? It was like he hated me. I could see it in his eyes.” I look back up at CJ. “I was just trying to explain to him why I had to be here. I wanted him to understand. And if I’d been acting like a bitch at all, I might’ve let it slide, maybe, I don’t know, but I wasn’t. So I didn’t let it slide. I got mad and I ended it. I won’t be talked to like that.”
“I'm good for now, man. Thanks,” CJ replies, lifting his bottle for the man to see.
I don’t waste any time.
I grab the salt shaker, wet the back of my hand and sprinkle a thin layer there, then I lick it off and immediately shoot the tequila, following that up with a lime wedge I suck on until my cheeks pucker.
“Wow,” I cough. God, that’s like breathing fire. I rub at my throat, then I remember who is standing next to me and attentively watching, judging, thinking he knows me and what I can handle, so I lower my hand to the bar and slide the glass away from me, grabbing the bartender’s attention again. “Another please?” I request. “That stuff’s just . . . the best. So smooth, you know? I could drink it all night.”
He tops me off, eyeing me warily as CJ chuckles under his breath.
“What? It is. I just love it,” I announce, turning my head toward the lurking doubter and flashing him a smile. “It also makes you pretty. I read that in a Texas bathroom once.”
CJ brings his beer to his mouth and takes a slow swig, observing me while he does it. Then he lowers the bottle and lick his lips. “Not sure you need help in that department,” he says, his voice serious now. “I think you’re set on looks, babe.”
I watch his eyes wander lower . . . and lower.
My stomach clenches. I suddenly feel like I’m burning up.
I quickly look away and set myself up for shot number two.
Salt. Lime at the ready.
Then I watch my shot go sliding out of reach when CJ pulls it in front of himself after setting down his beer.
He keeps his fingers wrapped around the glass. Watching me. Waiting . . .
“Are you . . . withholding my alcohol from me, Officer?” I ask, letting go of the shaker and lime wedge before swiveling a little on my stool.
CJ’s brow lifts. “You know I’m a cop?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I’ve seen you around.”
“Really?” He tilts his head to the side, studying me. “And how the hell did I miss you?”
I feel my cheeks warm.
Mm. Must be the alcohol.
“We sort of ran into each other once. Like, literally ran into each other. I was walking into Sam’s Deli and you were heading out. You knocked into me.”
His brows pinch together in confusion. “Are you sure about that? `Cause I’m thinking I’d remember running into you.”
“I’m sure.”
My one and only close encounter with CJ Tully. Not something I’d forget.
Imagine? Yes. Possibly. But I know that isn’t the case here.
“When was this?” he asks.
“I don’t know. A year ago, maybe? You were taking a call on your radio. You were in a hurry. I don’t even think you looked at me. Just apologized and rushed out.” I shrug. “Don’t worry. I didn’t take it personal.”
CJ watches me cross one leg over the other, his brow lifting appreciatively.
“Good to know I didn’t fuck up my chances,” he murmurs.
I blink.
His chances? What chances? Wait. Is he talking about . . .
CJ chuckles, picks up his beer and takes a pull of it.
Good idea. I need more alcohol. I’m officially going nuts over here.
Clearing my throat, I sit forward and gesture at the glass he’s still holding captive. “So, back to my drink. What’s the deal? Are you monitoring how much alcohol I consume?”
CJ licks the beer off his lips and sets his bottle down. “Not yet. I think you can have a couple more before I need to keep my eye on you.”
“And what are you doing right now exactly?”
He grins, admitting, “Trying not to keep my eye on you.”
“Well, you suck at it,” I tell him, smiling when he throws his head back with a laugh.
Oh, that's a really nice sound.
“Can I have my drink please?” I ask after his eyes reach mine again.
“Answer my question first?”
“Depends on what it is.”
He narrows his stare and studies me for a moment while forcing a serious face, which is the exact opposite of what I’m doing.
I’m trying to contain a smile that’s threatening to crack my cheeks wide open.
It’s the tequila.
Honest. It has absolutely nothing to do with his easy charm.
CJ smirks, finally cracking. “Why were you pitching a shit fit with your brother? What was that about?”
I roll my eyes, losing most of my smile. “That's easy. He fired my boyfriend last week and forbid him to come with me to this. He was just being mean about it.” I shrug, adding, “I thought it was rude, so I got rude back.”
“You thought it was rude he fired him?”
“No, I thought it was rude he wouldn’t let him come with me this weekend,” I clarify. “I’m sure Reed had reason to fire him. He wouldn’t have done it if he didn’t. I know that. It’s just . . . I think he could’ve still allowed me to bring him. Don’t you think?”
CJ stares at me for a second, thinking on this, then shakes his head. “Yeah, sorry, darlin’. I’m siding with your brother on this one.”
“What?” My brow furrows. “Why? I really don’t think it would’ve been that awkward.”
“Maybe not. Still. It’s his wedding. If Reed doesn’t want someone at it he has that right. Can’t fault him for feeling that way.” He leans closer to add, “Plus, it’s better for me your guy’s not here. I get a pretty girl to talk to all night and I get her without some asshole giving me shit about it.”
I blink up at him, watching CJ slowly straighten up and resume leaning against the bar.
“You think I’m pretty?” I ask.
He stares at me, brow tightening. “Are you serious?”
I nod through a hard swallow. Memories of my evening before arriving here press like a heavy weight on my chest. “He called me a bitch tonight.”
“Who did?”
“Richard. My now ex-boyfriend,” I answer, looking down at my fingers twisting together in my lap. “He . . . we were fighting about the wedding. The past week, that’s all we’ve been doing. He didn’t think I should go and I didn’t think he should put me in a position to make a choice like that. Then he called me a bitch.” I shake my head, voice lowering when I continue. “I’ve never been called that before. Not by anyone. It felt like he slapped me, you know? It was like he hated me. I could see it in his eyes.” I look back up at CJ. “I was just trying to explain to him why I had to be here. I wanted him to understand. And if I’d been acting like a bitch at all, I might’ve let it slide, maybe, I don’t know, but I wasn’t. So I didn’t let it slide. I got mad and I ended it. I won’t be talked to like that.”
