Chapter 2 – Mindy
CHAPTER TWO
Duck Face vs. Hot Guy
Mindy
I pull at the top of my dress, the one my friend Caroline insisted I wear, and that only makes it ride up higher at the bottom. “Dammit to hell,” I curse, attempting to situate this tiny scrap of material so it covers all my goodies.
I didn’t even want to come out tonight, but my best friend insisted. We live on Galveston Island, though we made the trek up to Houston because of some guy Caro has been seeing for about a month. Looking out at the dance floor, I see them trying to eat each other’s face off.
Good for her. I’ve met Brayden a couple times, and he seems nice. He even mentioned moving from Houston down to the island, so I guess it’s getting pretty serious.
Draining the rest of my cosmo, I glance around for the waitress.
Where the hell is she? I spot her and wave wildly, but she either doesn’t see me or is ignoring me.
I could go to the bar, but that would leave our table unoccupied, and someone would steal it in about two seconds.
So I tip the glass back to let a piece of ice slide into my mouth, sucking the cranberry juice and vodka from it before chewing.
My phone dings, and I reach into my leather purse to pull it out, seeing a text from my mother.
Mom: I just got a message on that medical chart app you put on my phone. The doctor wants me to come in for a follow-up on Wednesday.
Me: I’ll go with you.
Mom: You don’t have to. You just started your job at the bakery.
Me: I’m going. It will be fine.
I replace my phone and shake my head. She’s so damn stubborn. Mom has been having some digestive issues for a couple months now, but she’s been self-treating with antacids. I finally got her to go to the doctor when her eyes began to look a little yellow.
“Hey, Red.”
I look up to see a blond guy standing beside my table. He appears to be about my height, which is pretty short for a man since I’m five five.
“Red. Good one,” I drawl with all the sarcasm. “Never heard that before.”
He grins. The guy isn’t bad looking, but he has a large mole shaped like a duck on the right side of his forehead. I would normally think that’s interesting, but I’m already annoyed by him calling me Red. For the record, I despise that nickname with a passion.
He apparently misses my tone because he looks positively delighted. “Really? I took one look at your hair, and it just came to me.” The man preens like he’s just won an Olympic medal.
“You’re obviously some kind of creative nicknaming savant,” I tell him, but he misses that heavy dose of sarcasm as well.
“I do what I can.” He props an elbow on my table and leans into my space. His breath smells like stale beer. “Hey, we should dance.”
“No, I’m good, but thank you,” I say with as much politeness as I can muster. It takes a lot of nerve to come up to a stranger, so I’m giving him a little leeway.
His eyes drop to my chest, and I glance down as well to verify I haven’t had a nip slip or something. Nope. He’s just being creepy.
“I’m friends with the owner of this club,” he tells my boobs. Oh jeez, he’s one of those I know the owner guys who thinks that will impress a woman. When he runs his fingers up my bare arm, I begin to get aggravated.
“How impressive,” I say dryly, swatting his hand away.
Undeterred, he bobs one eyebrow, making the duck mole appear to waddle. “I’d really love to take you back to my place for the night. Does that make you wet?”
My right hand balls into a fist. I’m not above punching a motherfucker, but I answer with saccharine sweetness. “It makes me about as wet as the shampoo I used earlier tonight.”
Douchebag grins, and I notice he has spinach or something stuck in his teeth. “Let me guess. The shampoo was nice and creamy?” he literally croons.
I put on my own smile. “It was dry shampoo.”
It takes him a second to realize the dig, and his face falls just as I hear a chortle behind him.
And then a deep voice carries over the music. “My man, you’re messing with the wrong woman. My woman.”
Duck Face and I turn our attention to the speaker at the same time, and… whoa. He’s tall. Really tall, towering over Duck Face by at least a foot.
“Your woman?” the douchebag asks skeptically, and the big guy ignores him, stepping around the smaller man and directly in front of me.
“Hey, honey. Everything okay?”
Honey? I blink a few times because the man in front of me is fuck-a-licious. “Fine, dear,” I say, playing along. “I was just about to tell this guy you were on your way.”
His perfect mouth crooks up on one side, chocolate-brown eyes searching mine. I try to convey with my own eyes that I’m on board with whatever game he’s playing.
But the idiot behind him isn’t taking the hint, his voice accusatory. “I saw her come in with another woman. You weren’t with her.”
Neither of us deign to look at him because we’re fixated on each other. “I’m with her now,” Hot Guy replies, reaching up to cup my cheeks with both hands. He pauses, silently asking for permission, and I give him the slightest of nods. I’m not sure what he’s asking for, but I’m here for it.
“Missed you today,” he murmurs a split second before his mouth covers mine.
It’s like this is the first time I’ve been kissed in all of my twenty-three years. His lips are soft and warm, and he smells like something woodsy topped with hints of sweet citrus. My lips are suddenly in charge, taking over my brain function and parting for more.
The man makes a little hum, a mixture of surprise and approval, before dipping his tongue into my mouth. Oh my. He tastes as good as he looks, like a fine scotch with the perfect blend of oaky sweetness and something smoky.
One of his hands slides to the back of my head and beneath my hair, warm and firm against my scalp, while the other drops to my lower back.
At his gentle urging, my ass slides forward on the chair and he steps fully into my space.
My legs, the little sluts, spread as far as my dress will allow, the stretchy fabric being tested to its limits as the guy makes himself right at home between them.
I’m transported into whatever realm this man rules, and he undoubtedly rules something because no one kisses with this much confidence and skill without being a take-charge kind of guy. The type that says “jump” and the world happily asks, “How high, sir?”
Our tongues twist and swirl, and my nipples grow uncomfortably hard against the fabric of my bra. I don’t even realize my hands have found the man’s hair until the jet-black strands slide through my fingers.
It’s the perfect kiss… slow, sweet, and laced with dirty implications.
When he pulls back, I’m breathless and my mind is hazy.
The man licks his lips as if to savor one more taste of me and smiles.
It’s a devastating smile. Either God or a very good orthodontist blessed him with the most beautiful set of teeth I’ve ever seen.
“Is he gone?”
The question catches me out of left field since I’ve been lost in the mesmerizing strokes of his lips and tongue. “Who?”
“Dry shampoo guy,” he replies with a smirk.
I snort in the most unladylike fashion. “Oh yeah. That kiss was so long I almost forgot about him.”
He lifts his hand to rub his thumb over my bottom lip, his hooded brown eyes following the move.
“Not long enough.” When he pulls his thumb back and sucks on it, I’m afraid I’m going to leave a wet spot on this damn chair.
I look over his shoulder. “He’s gone,” I say a bit reluctantly because I have no doubt this man would kiss me again if whats-his-face was still there. Just to stake his claim. And I’d fucking let him.
“Damn, I was hoping I’d be forced to kiss you again to prove my point.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Forced?” I place my hands on his chest as if I’m going to push him away in outrage, but I think we both know the score.
Hot Guy doesn’t back down. “Yep. Forced to once again kiss the sweetest lips I’ve ever tasted.” His exaggerated sigh tells me he’s about to say something teasing. “But I’m a man who will sacrifice his body for a gorgeous woman.”
And what a body it is. I can feel the hard planes of his chest beneath his dark-gray shirt, and I have no doubt there’s a matching set of abs a bit lower. And lower than that? the dirtiest part of my brain asks. Do you think there’s something hard you might like behind that zipper?
“Your sacrifice has been duly noted. How will I ever repay you?” My tone is flirty chick topped with a drizzle of damsel in distress.
“You could let me buy you a drink,” Hot Guy suggests, and I realize I should probably call him something besides Hot Guy.
“I don’t even know your name.”
His lips quirk on one side as a Pitbull song comes on, the quick beats blaring over the speakers.
“I’m Joe,” he yells. Something about that weird smile on his lips makes me think it’s a fake name, and I should probably do the same.
But before I can think of anything good, I find myself saying, “I’m Mindy.”
“Minnie?” he asks, tilting his ear toward me over the noise.
Fuck it. I roll with it and double down. “Yes, Minnie.”
“Very pretty. Now that we’re properly introduced, can I buy you a drink?”
“Yes, if you can find a waitress. I’ve tried to flag her down—”
Before I can finish, Joe lifts a single finger, and the waitress appears like she’s a genie and someone just rubbed her lamp.
“What can I get for you, sir?” she asks breathlessly. I roll my eyes, but she’s focused on Joe. It wouldn’t surprise me if she humped his leg in the middle of this club.
“I’ll have a Johnny Walker Blue Label, and my date will have…” He looks at me.
“A cosmo,” I reply, noting he’s chosen a very pricy scotch.
“A cosmo,” he repeats to the waitress. “And is there a quieter table where we could sit. It’s loud here by the dance floor.”
“Of course,” the woman says, practically genuflecting. “I’ll get one of the booths ready for you.”