25. Jenna #2
I’m looking for the nearest exit, except, shoot, I have to babysit McCarthy. I spare a guilty glance across the crowded restaurant to his table. I can hear Juniper’s voice telling him about a trip she took to Madrid. Juniper is all over McCarthy, her feet caressing his leg under the table.
But McCarthy is looking at me, not his date.
He’s so trying to make a run for it.
Gritting my teeth, I prepare to settle in for a long, humiliating date.
My ex-stepfather accepts a glass of whiskey from the bartender, making sure to run his arm across my chest as he reaches for the drink. It’s crowded, and he has me trapped in my seat.
“You’ve grown up very nicely. How’s your mom? ”
Suddenly, McCarthy’s there, knocking my stepfather aside, spilling his drink over his hand.
“ Excuse me. ”
“Sorry.” McCarthy doesn’t sound it. He turns, shoving my ex-stepfather back even farther.
“That is my date.” My ex-stepdad must have been drinking before he came to the restaurant because no one in their right mind would challenge a man younger, taller, and in better shape than them. And yet my ex-stepfather looks ready to fight.
“Your date?” McCarthy draws out the word and makes an exaggerated show of looking between us. “I don’t believe it. You? She’s young, pretty, and is obviously looking for someone with money, not multiple child-support payments.”
My ex-stepfather huffs, drains his whiskey, then slams it down on the counter. He glares at me.
“You never changed, did you, Jenna? Woman always go after the high-status alphas and ignore the salt-of-the-earth men who will worship them and be there for them. You’re playing out of your league. Mark my words.”
McCarthy watches him leave, relaxing only when the restaurant door slams shut.
“Did you seriously bring another man here to eat on my dime?”
“Go back to your date.”
His eyes narrow. He grabs my wrist and pins me to the bar.
I slap his hands away but can’t shove away the torso that leans against me.
“I can’t just sit here by myself. That looks weird. I have to keep an eye on you,” I squeak as the heat from his body permeates my thin dress .
“So bring a book.”
“I don’t think you want me reading Anally Impregnated by His Alien Mate in Seattle’s hottest new restaurant.”
“What the fuck?” McCarthy steps back. I can breathe again. “What the hell are you reading?”
“It’s Omegaverse. It’s actually sweet—not the childbirth-out-of-the-ass part, but—”
McCarthy doubles over, retching. “That’s almost as horrifying as the fact that you’re dating your stepfather.”
I clap a hand over his mouth when a well-dressed, middle-aged couple gives us horrified looks. His lips are unexpectedly soft under my fingertips, his jaw slightly rough. Unlike me, he did not shave before his date. The five-o’clock shadow is rough under my palm.
I draw my hand back like I’ve been burned. I feel drunk and bite back nervous giggles.
“I didn’t know.”
“Bullshit.”
“You met my mom. You saw how she is. There was a parade of men in and out of the house. As soon as she’d date them or sleep with them once, she’d move them in.
I’d be in the bathroom in the morning, and a guy would just barge in, and my mom’s like, ‘Jenna this is your new stepfather!’ Two weeks later, he’d be replaced with another. ”
I trail off.
McCarthy looks murderous. “Your mom let that bastard around you, and he walked in on you while you were changing?”
“He wasn’t that creepy when I was younger.” I wince as McCarthy’s eyes get this glazed-over look.
“Probably because you seem completely oblivious to men’s red flags. ”
“I see all of yours just fine.”
“Not all of them.”
Juniper is running her fingers up and down the stem of her wineglass across the room.
“They served me a bowl of twigs. We’re leaving.” He grabs my arm.
“No. Go back, and be nice,” I order, trying to turn the big man.
“You think I’m really going to listen to you?”
Across the room, Juniper looks angry that I’m touching him.
“I bet if you’re nice to her, she’ll even sleep with you.”
He doesn’t move. A frown creases his forehead.
I take out my phone. “I will call your older brother. Keep trying me.”
McCarthy finally leaves with a scowl.
I order two glasses of wine and try to catch my breath.
McCarthy is leaning over the table. He gently pokes Juniper in the nose with one of the vegan twig appetizers. He’s flirting with her, trailing his hand up her arms, playing with the delicate rings on her fingers.
I know what two people that are about to hook up look like.
I wave my empty glass in the general direction of the bartender.
The bartender just sets the bottle in front of me before I can turn, almost falling off my stool.
“Jenna?”
Ah, my dinner date. The room is blurry, and I try to blink the guy into focus.
“At least you’re age appropriate.” I hold out my hand then decide “fuck it” and give him a one-armed hug .
He doesn’t return it.
“You looked younger in your photos.”
“Yeah.” I glug the last of the bottle of wine into my cup. “I was a younger girl yesterday. Don’t worry”—my voice drops to a whisper—“I’ll put out.”
That gets his interest.
I think about my dinner order. Maybe the seafood pasta?
Kyle? Cole? is droning on about some entrepreneurship book he just read, which just sounds like Chicken Soup for the Tech-Bro Soul .
Across the room, McCarthy’s whistling the tune of that “What’s your name, who’s your daddy?” song, the notes sharp against the burble of the crowd.
“It’s just that for me to be successful, I need a traditional woman—a woman who knows she needs to cater to a man.
Honestly, women today? They’re too independent, and too many men let them get away with it.
Like that guy.” He nods over to McCarthy and Juniper.
“He’s got the right idea. That girl’s—what? Twenty?”
“Twenty-two. She has a very elaborate skin care routine.”
“Still young enough that she’ll still be moldable.” He nods. “I want a wife who will look up to me, let me guide her.”
Revolting.
McCarthy’s date yells at him and dumps her drink on him.
“Dammit!” I swear as she jumps up and storms over to me.
“You shouldn’t let him out in public.”
McCarthy swaggers over. “For someone who claims she’s treating dating like her full-time job, she really needs to work on her customer service. Guess she can’t just take a joke.”
“Oh.” Juniper looks apprehensive.
“Yeah, I heard that.” McCarthy levels his gaze at her.
“You…” She looks between McCarthy, high on his perceived win, and me, drunk and practically falling off my stool. “You two deserve each other.”
“Sorry,” I tell… Kale? Surely someone didn’t name their child Kale, right? “I just need to handle this.”
“Translation, Cole: I’m more important than you, so get lost.” McCarthy’s pressed up against my back. “Also, have some self-respect. She dated your father already; you’re sloppy seconds.”
“I—what?” I peer at McCarthy, who’s blurry through the bottle of wine I’ve consumed.
“He’s your ex-stepbrother. They have the same last name.” He waves a business card that he’s somehow managed to steal from Cole. “And that weak chin that needs to be nuked out of the gene pool with extreme prejudice.”
“My father was here?” Cole sputters.
“Just now,” McCarthy drawls. “She even let him feel her up.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Slut.” Cole spits it at me.
“You wish.” McCarthy laughs him out of the restaurant.
Dazed, I look over to his table. It’s empty.
“Why did she leave? What did you say?”
“It’s your fault.” He signals the bartender for another drink. “I just asked her about your alpha/Omegaverse shit.”
I want to die.
“I guess she thought I was trying to get her to do some sort of threesome with you, which she was offended by. Said I couldn’t pay what she was worth, and I said, ‘Well, it was a pretty expensive dinner,’ and then she said—”
“Oh my god.” I groan.
He spears one of the slivers of truffle and feeds it to me, the tine of the fork clinking against my teeth.
“You ready to give up yet?”
I pretend like I misunderstand him. “Nope. You’re going on another date tomorrow.”
“Just admit that you need me. Then all your wildest dreams can come true.”
“Does that include you in a mankini?”
“Says the girl”—he hooks two fingers under the spaghetti strap of my cocktail dress— “who wore this to fuck with me.”
“Tomorrow, your date is going to be with Shelia.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Only if you agree to stay with me tonight.”
“This isn’t a negotiation, McCarthy.”
“I’m not negotiating. I’m telling you. You attract the worst men in this city. Going on a date with your stepfather? You need me; you can’t function on your own. You are completely useless, and you’re driving me insane.”
He’s really close now. I can taste the expensive scotch on his breath, cold against my mouth.
“Fuck you. You’re the one who refuses to do what he’s told and can’t keep it together for an hour. A threesome, McCarthy, really?”
His hands are on my waist. “Now why would you think I was serious about that?”
I blink .
Of course. Of course he wouldn’t actually want me. Kale is right.
“I’d never share you.”
The kiss is crushing and unexpected. I cling to him as it feels like the whole world is blown away around us. It doesn’t draw any odd looks at the crowded bar.
He kisses me like he owns me, like this is inevitable, like he knows I’m not going to fight him when his tongue slips in my mouth, when his hands slide over my dress and cup my ass.
I grab the hem before he can slide his hands under. “Are you trying to get me fired?” I croak.
Now he leans in, grabbing my jaw, angling me so he can kiss me deep, steal my breath.
“No. I’m trying to fuck you.”
A bomb goes off in my panties.
This is not in the ten-step plan.
I finally push him off—but not much.
He’s massive. Impossible to move.
“Don’t act like you don’t want it.” His hands are all over me. He nuzzles my neck, down my collarbone.
“If you hadn’t been so rude, you could have slept with your fake date.”
“I’ll take any pussy. I’m not that picky.”
“Could have fooled me.” I slap his chest.
He leans in to lick his way into my mouth. Then he’s kissing me again.
A girl could get used to this.
I shove him off.
“I don’t sleep with clients.” My chest is heaving, and I hold my breath to stop it.
“Is that wine bottle empty? ”
McCarthy slides his credit card across the bar top, one arm still resting on my waist, like I’m his girlfriend. Like I’m his…
Aaand this is what my therapist used to warn me about.
Just because a man does something nice for you doesn’t make him a good man. It definitely doesn’t mean that he’s in love with you or wants to marry you.
The daddy-issues-sized hole in my heart, however, is taking McCarthy’s measurements and is determining that while it’s a tight squeeze, we’ll make it work.
McCarthy’s cupping my ass.
His hand comes up to the small of my back, and I inadvertently arch against him.
McCarthy is self-satisfied, his hand sliding down my ass and between my legs to cup me briefly as he signs the receipt.
This asshole.
This evening was a disaster.
I can’t believe I let him kiss me.
I can’t believe I want him to again.
Like he reads my mind, he leans in, sucking lightly on my lower lip, stealing my breath so I can’t protest when he says, “You gonna let me take you home?”