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My eyes roam up and down her body, and I take the opportunity to drink her in. She places her hands on her hips.
“Are you eye-fucking me?” I ask.
She laughs. “No.”
Lie.
“I’ll see you in five minutes.”
“Okay,” she says, and I can tell she’s smiling.
When she’s out of sight, I drive around to the back and keep my face covered until I take the private entrance I pay the owner to use.
When I enter the bar, I remove my helmet and immediatelyrelax upon seeing Carlee. It’s dark and dimly lit, and a group of older gentlemen are drinking pitchers of beer in the back corner.
Sluggers is safe for us for now. I’m trying to treasure it because I know it won’t be one day. I plop down on the stool next to her. The bartender slides two shots of tequila in front of us, and we pick them up.
“To dating and dumping,” she says, her signature motto.
We clink our glasses together, and she shakes off the booze.
“I’m going to feel like shit tomorrow.” She sighs.
“For your sake, I hope you don’t,” I offer.
“Want another shot before we part ways?” she asks.
“No,” I reply, turning toward her, not wanting the night to end. I lower my voice. “Come home with me.”
She tilts her head, studying me intently. The eye contact is almost too intense.
I laugh, though I can feel the electricity streaming between us. “My intentions arealwayspure. At least with you.”
She shoots me a mischievous grin. “Sure they are, Calloway.”
I won’t make the first move.Ever.
If that line is crossed, the timing has to be perfect, and she has to initiate itwithouta drop of liquid courage. Until then, we’ll continue this charade.
“But I really can’t go home with you. I’m sorry. I have to be at work early in the morning. Like, in five hours.”
I nod, pulling my wallet from my pocket. “I get it.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” she says, twisting in her stool to face me. “But thank you. This was fun.”
We hold each other’s gaze.
“Always is,” I say just as she yawns. “I’ll take you home.”
She smiles, a warmth spreading across her face. “Thanks for keeping my date-and-dump tradition alive.”
“Of course. What are friends for?”
6
CARLEE
“Ineed you to stay a few hours over,” Mr. Martin, my boss, says as he sits behind his large desk, an imposing structure that dominates the room with its wood-paneled walls.