Tank shot the caterer one last look, taking in her long, wavy hair and perfectly arched brows, drawn together over defiant eyes. Turning, she walked toward the kitchen door, her shapely hips swaying with each step, and Tank groaned inwardly.
Quinn blew out a long, exaggerated sigh. “You’re being very rude.”
“No,” he growled, diverting his attention away from the closed door to the whining princess. “You are. What’s your problem?”
“I don’t like competing with the help.”
“You don’t like competing with anyone.”
“That’s true” She giggled. “You know me so well. Come on, let’s have a good time.”
“Not before you understand you can’t treat people like that, and you don’t own me.”
She blinked dramatically, as if she were about to burst into tears. But he knew better. They’d played this game too many times.
“Look, we’re friends. I’ve enjoyed spending time with you when we bumped into each other at these bullshit parties, but that doesn’t mean I owe you anything. We’re not dating, we’re not even sleeping together, so back off the possessive shit. Got it?”
“Yes, Drew.” Her lips twisted into a snarl, and then she evened them out into a seductive smile. “Can we dance now, please?”
“And stop calling me Drew. Only my mom can call me that.”
“But Tank sounds weird. Anyway, you were Drew in high school, and that’s where we met.”
He rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
Before he could argue much else, she drew him onto the crammed, wooden dance floor, with her designer perfume permeating his clothes as they swayed to a slow R&B song.
Quinn sighed happily against his neck, causing his muscles to tighten as she molded her body to his. He was sure as hell going to disrupt her feeling of contentment, because he was still pissed about the way she treated the caterer, and her feeling of having some monopoly over him was beyond annoying. He didn’t owe her shit.
“So, no Mason tonight?”
After the way she’d acted back at the buffet table, Tank didn’t even try to play nice with the subject of her long-distance fiancé. Mason was rarely with Quinn at any of the social events in town.
She pulled back, a frown creasing her forehead. “He’s working in L.A. He didn’t have time to fit the party into his schedule.”
“Of course. L.A. is about a two-hour drive from here, so I can see how difficult that would be to fit in on a Saturday night.”
She narrowed her eyes. “It is. I’ve told you how hard he works. We both do.”
“Right.”
Work was code for fucking around with other people. She had explained to Tank that she and Mason had an open relationship. Their engagement was all for show to make her daddy happy, so whenever Mason made his way up to Santa Teresita, they played the loving couple. But Mason wasn’t in town often, leaving Quinn with plenty of free time on her hands. Tank knew that no matter how much she professed to be a rebel, pissing her parents off with her antics, there was no way in hell she’d ever marry a man who wasn’t in her social class. Though she’d deny it, Quinn Fitzgerald was a snob through and through. But she gave a mean blow job.
Leaning back into him, Tank’s eyes wandered back to the buffet table. A thread of disappointment wove its way through him when there was no sign of the spitfire. Maybe she’s hiding out until after I leave. The sass in her words flashed through his mind. Nah. She’s no wilting flower.
“This is where I bow out.” Tank pulled himself away from Quinn as she glared at him. “I can’t spend all my time here with you. Go, spread your beauty around the place. There are dudes who look to be your type that I’m sure are waiting to meet you.”
“I don’t want to meet anyone, Drew. You’re the only one I want to hang out with tonight.”
That wasn’t going to happen.
“I already told you—I’m gonna grab some chow and head out. I’m itching for a ride.”
“I’d love to ride on your motorcycle. We can ride along the coast and make love on the beach. Doesn’t that sound romantic?”
“It does. You and Mason should do that when he comes to town.” Extracting himself from her grip, he headed back toward the catering table, his stomach grumbling something fierce. Or that’s what he was going to tell himself until he was face-to-face with the brunette again.
“I’ll go with you,” Quinn offered.
Fuck no!
Before Tank could say anything, the music stopped, and the sound of chimes rose above the chattering guests. Tabby’s father walked over to the microphone on the stage and began a long-winded toast to his daughter and her fiancé.
Two skinny women in slinky, backless gowns ran up to Quinn, hugging each other. Grateful for the distraction, Tank took advantage of the situation and got lost in the crowd. Making a quick stop at the bar for a double shot of bourbon, he then headed over to the buffet table where guests were lining up.
Spotting her talking to a waiter at the carving station, Tank sauntered over to the table.
“Smells good,” he said, eying her before looking at the prime rib, ham, and pork loin.
“So, you made it back. I was pretty sure you’d forget about the food with the stunning company taking up your attention.”
Tank picked up a plate. “Just goes to show you’ve got me all wrong.”
“That’s to be expected since I don’t know you. But, I admit, I thought a pretty face would win out over a full stomach.”
Tank slathered au jus over a piece of roast beef. “The right person with a pretty face would.”
A ghost of a smile played across her lips. “Well said. I suppose I misjudged you.” Arching her brow, she started to walk away.
“Hey, where are you going?”
“You aren’t the only guest at the party. I have a lot of work to do.”
“The least you can do is give me a name before you go. Seems fair.”
“Life isn’t always fair, is it, Drew?”
He gripped his plate a little harder. “That’s not my name—it’s Tank.”
She laughed. “So Drew’s a nickname?”
“Not exactly.”
She looked at the growing crowd behind him. “I have to run. Why don’t you come find me after the party, and maybe you’ll get it.”
He felt like he was being hit by an eighteen-wheeler when she looked down at the white tablecloth and back up at him through her lashes.
“Damn, you’re gonna be trouble, aren’t you?”
Smiling sweetly, she winked at him. “Is there any other way to be?” With that, she took off.
Damn. With his dick now hard, he quickly turned away and hurried across the room, toward the garden. Finding a seat under the twinkling lights, he leaned back and stared out into the darkness. The sound of the waves crashing on the shore filled his ears and calmed his nerves.
If he had it his way, the sassy brunette would be on her back behind the bougainvillea trees with his head between her legs before they could get to the whole name exchanging bullshit. She was teasing him, and he fucking loved it.
He looked back into the ballroom, knowing it was just a matter of time before Quinn figured out he wasn’t at his assigned seat. Picking up his plate, he moved toward the shadows in the back of the yard, then settled into a wrought iron chair.