Was this really my brilliant idea? I glance around. I’m underdressed, and although that doesn’t bother me, it does make me stand out.
Tessa slides onto Garrett’s lap, laughing and gesturing to the empty seat. “See? There’s plenty of room for you, Skye.”
I reluctantly sit. The good thing about having a table is a server comes to take drink orders. Good. No more trying to elbow my way to the bar. I order a Wild Turkey, neat. Tessa and Betsy both order another margarita, and Garrett and Peter drink Guinness, same as they were drinking that night at the MADD Gala. And why I remember that, I have no idea.
My dead phone at the bottom of my purse seems to vibrate with a homing beacon.
I could leave. Go home and plug in the phone. Or simply ask if anyone at the table has a portable charger on them. Tessa might.
Damn it!
I will not give up control of my daily life. Not to anyone, not even Braden Black.
Betsy and Peter are chatting, despite the fact that it’s too loud to hear anything, and Tessa is nuzzling with Garrett, still on top of him.
Just as well. I hate conversing in a loud atmosphere anyway.
Our drinks arrive, and I take a long, slow sip, letting the bourbon coat my throat with its spicy burn.
Something nuzzles my ear. “You seem kind of lonely over here.”
I look up. A handsome man with sandy-blond hair crouches next to me.
“I’m fine.”
“I’m sure you are, sweetheart, but it doesn’t take a detective to see you’re a third wheel.” He chuckles. “Make that a fifth wheel.”
“What do you know? Maybe I’m contemplating a threesome.”
“If that’s the case, sweetheart, I really would like to get to know you better. You want to dance?”
“That’s kind of you, but no thanks.”
“If threesomes are your jam, I know someone who’d be into it.”
I can’t help a roaring laugh. “I was kidding.”
“Damn. Too bad. Though I wouldn’t mind a twosome, either.”
“Sorry. I’m involved with someone.”
“Okay, I get it. You can still dance, can’t you?”
I steal a quick glance at the two couples, one of them making out and the other having gotten closer within the last few minutes. “Thank you, but no.”
The music grinds to a halt, and then a lively Latin number begins. Tessa pops her head up from her snogging session with Garrett. “Oh my God! I love this song. We’ve got to dance.” She rises and pulls Garrett with her. “Come on, all of you!”
“See?” the guy says. “Let’s go.”
“I’m not sure—”
Before I can resist, though, Tessa and the others are dragging me to the dance floor. The blond man has somehow joined in our group dance.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
“Skye,” I nearly scream, to be heard above the noise. “What’s yours?”
“Marty.”
The music is fast, and within a few minutes of trying to follow Tessa’s moves, I’m sweltering in my jeans. This is why women don’t wear jeans to clubs. Men do, though. Don’t men sweat more than women? Marty seems comfortable enough, and he’s actually a really good dancer. Much better than I am. I try to take my mind off how hot I am and enjoy myself.
When the number ends and a slow song starts, I say, “Thanks. I think I’ll sit this one out.”
Marty pulls me into his body. “One more, okay? We both need to cool down a little bit.”
Sweat coats my neck, and I really wish I had put my hair up. “Thanks, but no.”
Marty doesn’t appear to hear me, though. He starts moving slowly to the music. I pull away. “Sorry, I’m done for the night. It was great meeting you.”
“Can I buy you a drink?” Marty asks.
“Thanks, but no. I’m pretty tired, and I think I’m just going to get out of here.”
“You read my mind. I have my car. I’m happy to give you a ride home.”
“Marty, I told you I’m seeing someone.”
“I’m offering you a ride home. I’m not offering to take you to bed. Just trying to be nice here.”
When we get back to the table, I turn to him. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll just get an Uber.”
He gives me a mock bow. “At your service.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m an Uber driver. You’ll see the sticker on my car.”
“You can’t possibly be on the clock right now. Haven’t you been drinking?”
“Nope.”
“But you offered to buy me a drink.”
“Doesn’t mean I was going to get one for myself. All it takes is a click on the phone. If you don’t believe me, check me out on the app. I’m BostonMarty352. Four-point-nine rating.”
My phone. Getting an Uber will require a phone that isn’t dead. Oh, I’m tempted. I’m dying to see if Braden has texted me, and it certainly won’t hurt to find out if BostonMarty is on the up-and-up.
Marty pulls out his phone and smiles. “Just clicked on. I think I might be in your area.”