She was sick. She was sick. She was sick.
“You looked like you were having fun,” she said, jolting him back to the present.
Had she been watching him? The thought made him happier than it should.
“It may have looked that way,” he told her, “but I wasn’t.”
“Why not?”
Because she’d been sitting by Alex and not him. “I think you already know the answer to that.”
Vivienne smiled at him even as she dropped her head and closed her eyes. She didn’t look very comfortable squished in the corner, so Deacon reached for her legs and settled them across his lap. A blush painted her cheeks, but she didn’t open her eyes.
She had a freckle on her knee. And another just above it, on her thigh. He “drew” a line between them, loving the way her skin broke out in chills.
“What’re you doing?” she whispered, her eyes wide.
He continued connecting the dots, gauging her reaction. “Does this bother you?”
She shook her head.
“Are you sure?” He found a freckle right below the hem of her shorts. “Because you look awfully flushed.”
“I’m just sick.”
Little liar. “Is that right?”
“Yep.”
He leaned toward her slowly, hearing her breath catch in her throat. “Are you having trouble breathing, Vivienne?”
“I’m…just…sick.”
He pressed a kiss to her neck and had planned on stopping there. But then she sighed and lifted her chin, and she smelled so good, and she caught him by the hair and held his head to her. And he wasn’t going to not kiss her if she wanted him to kiss her, so he made sure to sample every inch of exposed skin from her ear to her throat. If she wasn’t sick, he’d be exploring her mouth. But this would have to do.
“Your pulse is racing,” he whispered, sucking a bit harder where her neck met her shoulder.
“That’s just because,” she moaned, “I’m sick.”
The dingy, neon glow in the narrow bar reflected Deacon’s mood. If Vivienne had stayed awake, he would’ve been there instead. But it felt creepy to stick around after she’d passed out on the sofa. Plus, he had wanted to get out before Emily got home.
Ethan waved him over to where he and Nicola waited next to one of the high-top tables. As if he hadn’t seen Ethan’s hideous orange turkey sweater from the doorway. “Where the hell have you been?” he asked, slurring his words already.
“My socks were wet, and I needed to swing by my place to get new ones.”
“You and your damned socks.” He rolled his eyes and took another drink of his whiskey and soda. After asking Deacon for his order, he squeezed beside a middle-aged woman waiting at the bar.
Nicola punched him in the arm. Hard. “I saw you leave earlier. You’d better not be doing what I think you’re doing.” Her hair was down for once, twisted in curls over her bright red top.
She knew him better than most—which wasn’t always a good thing.
“I fail to see how it’s any of your concern,” he said, rubbing his sore shoulder. The woman was freakishly strong.
“I know you, Dash. And I know you’re going to do the same shit you always do. I’m not going to stand by and—”
Ethan turned around and shoved a glass of scotch into his hand. “You’re a drink behind. Bottoms up.”
The first sip burned, but then his throat went numb and the rest slipped down like water. He slammed the empty glass on the table and ordered another.
“That’s my boy!” Ethan cheered, finishing his drink as well. “I’m gonna feel shitt-ay tomorrow. But not nearly as bad as you. What time is your flight?”
“Half seven.”
“I’ll probably be just getting to bed,” he laughed, pulling Nicola by the belt loops on her jeans, “if I’m lucky.”
“If you keep drinking at that pace,” she mumbled, “you’re not getting lucky at all.”
Joe waved at them from behind the bar, another round ready and waiting. Ethan collected their drinks, clinked his glass against Deacon’s, and muttered some convoluted toast about turkeys and airplanes that didn’t make a bit of sense.
Nicola cleared her throat, catching Deacon’s attention over her bulbous glass of pink gin and strawberries. “Any plans while you’re in London?”
“The usual, I suppose.” Be miserable for a month and then come home.
She narrowed her eyes and hummed.
“Do you have something to say to me, Nicola?”
“Yeah. I think you’re being shady as hell and it pisses me off. I like Vivienne and—”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, really? So you don’t plan on seeing Gwen when you get to London?”
He hadn’t given Gwen a second thought in weeks. He’d seen the messages on his phone that she’d sent earlier, but hadn’t felt like responding. Was he going to see her? He didn’t honestly know.
“That’s what I thought,” Nicola snorted.
The door opened and a snowy cyclone spun through the entrance. When Deacon saw who had come in, he swore into his drink. This night was going downhill fast.
“Would you look who it is,” Ethan welcomed, clapping Alex McGee on the shoulder.
“I see you guys are still hanging out in this dump.” Alex nodded toward Nicola. “Nicola, lovely to see you, as always.”
“You too, Alex.” She combed her fingers through the ends of her hair and offered him a smile that would’ve left Ethan seeing red if he hadn’t been playing with the googly eyes on his sweater. “Are you in for long?”
Alex settled his jacket on the back of the free stool at their table. “I was planning on heading home before Christmas,” he said, scraping a hand across his damned five o’clock shadow, “but now I’m thinking I may stick around until January.”
For as long as Deacon had known Alex, the man had never stayed beyond December. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the decision had something to do with—
“What’s Vivienne’s story?”
Shit. Not good.
With her eyes on Deacon, Nicola said, “What do you mean?”
“I mean, she’s cute and I’d like to know if she’s seeing anyone.”
Ethan snorted. His eyes darted to Deacon, and his lips curled into a smile. “Ask Dash.”
Alex turned to him. “Well?”
How was he supposed to answer that? “Yes, she’s single, but if you so much as talk to her, I’ll rip out your throat” sounded a bit intense. But so did telling Alex that Vivienne was something more to him than she was.
Because they were just two people attracted to each other, having fun.
“Well what?” he said.
“Does she have a boyfriend?” Alex pressed, retrieving his wallet from his pocket.
Beside Alex, Nicola and Ethan watched with too much interest.
Deacon took a deep drink of his liquor and wiped his mouth with the back of his knuckles. “Not that I know of.”
“That’s a shock.”
Deacon didn’t want to talk about Vivienne anymore. “How’s Tootles these days?”