I skip over to the edge of the dancefloor.
“Hi. I’m still here. I guess you can’t spank me,” I giggle and then turn and strut back to the dance huddle and start swaying some more. I spin and start pointing at him and singing along while I continue wiggling my butt.
The lyrics I’m singing are more than a little suggestive.
His eyebrows go up and he folds his arms across his chest. His eyes are on me in a way that I feel. I feel it between my legs.
Susanna bumps me with her shoulder.
“Girl, you’re gonna get it.”
I laugh. “Right.”
“No - I’d lay money down that you’re gonna get it tonight. What’s goin’ on there? What haven’t you told me?”
“What do you mean?” I ask innocently, but Susanna knows me.
Me. Suddenly, I feel like the old me. Like a sassier version of myself.
I smile as that thought penetrates and I reach for my drink at the sidebar nearby and finish it. I grab my purse and loop it over my shoulder. Liquid courage, I’ve got it in spades.
“He’s just driving me home. You good to get home or you want me to get him to give you a ride?”
”I could use a ride,” Cammy says, sidling up to us. She waves at Killian with a big smile. And then her eyes move to me and grow larger. She’s impressed with the sight of him. How could she not be?
He doesn’t react. He finishes his drink and sets it on the bar. Then he’s got his eyes on me again. He folds his arms across his chest. He’s wearing an eggplant-colored button-down shirt with a black leather jacket that’s wide open. He’s got on dark jeans and black boots. He hasn’t shaved in days and it looks good on him. The dark and serious expression on his face is aimed at me and gotta say, I kind of dig it.
“Same,” Tara says. “If it’s not a hassle. But, you know… if you need to get home sooner and get your spanking, I can get my sister to pick us all up. She has a minivan.”
I laugh and say, “One sec,” then I head back over to where Killian is and that’s when the bartender is suddenly between us, smiling at me.
“Come chill with me while I’m on a break?” he suggests.
I’m just about to speak, but I don’t need to, because we hear, “Not likely.” Killian says this from behind him. He’s moved in closer and is giving the bartender a look I can only describe as lethal.
Killian hooks an arm around my waist and I’m cradled into his side.
Gulp. Alrighty then. That’s kind of proprietary.
“Thanks, anyway,” I say to Corey and then look up. “Killian, did you bring your SUV or your car?”
He frowns. The bartender, still standing there, is forgotten.
“My friends all need rides too,” I explain.
Killian rolls his eyes. “I’ll put them in a cab. You and me are outta here. Now.” He crooks his finger at Susanna.
She comes right over and is all smiles.
I put my arm around his waist and sort of snuggle in.
“You smell good,” I tell him.
He looks down at me and his lips twitch like he’s fighting a smile.
“Hey, Killian. How are you, Hot Stuff?” Susanna asks.
“Hey,” he replies and lets me go so he can get his wallet out. “Here. Cab fare for you and the other girls to get home. Me and Violet gotta split.”
He passes her a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill.
My expression has fallen as it penetrates that Susanna called Ray “Hot Stuff” in the beginning, too. And then she called him DeathRay, because she wanted him dead, I guess.
The thought is sobering. A little.
“That’s okay,” she tries to hand it back, “We’re cool. You two have a good night, though.” She gives me a beaming smile.
I manage to paint one on.
“Then buy some rounds. Get home safe,” he orders and doesn’t take the money back from Susanna.
“Yes, sir.” She salutes him and tucks it into her bra before she hugs me. “Get it, girl,” she says into my ear without even trying to hide it.
I laugh. “Whatever. Love you, SusieQ.”
“Love you back.” She squishes me with a little growl and then sidesteps away and tap dances with jazz hands over toward the girls, who are all avidly watching us. Debbie looks at Killian with lust all over her face.
Hey. I find myself bristling at that.
I wave goodbye to all of them, feeling Killian put his hand to the small of my back and it’s like a red-hot brand on my skin. “Where’s your coat?”
“In my car.”
“Where’s your car?”
“At work.”
My office is just down the street. Underground parking.
“It okay until the morning?” he asks.
“Sure,” I say. “It’s fine there all weekend, really. I can get a cab to work Monday.”
He takes his leather jacket off and puts it over my shoulders as he walks me to the curb, where his SUV is. Right outside the pub.
He beeps the lock and opens the door.
“That’s very gentlemanly,” I say, my eyes sweeping from his very gentlemanly feet straight up to his eyes, which – oh – not so gentlemanly right now. They look almost roguish.
“In you go,” he says in a husky voice.
And I’m smiling until he gets in and closes his door and then it hits me. This scene. How weird it is.
“What’s goin’ on?” I ask him.
“Seatbelt, baby,” he says, starting the car.
I put the belt on.
“Have fun?” he asks.
“Yeah. I haven’t done that in … years. Where’ve you been all week?” I ask. “And why the Mister Bossy attitude?”
He flexes his jaw. “We’ll talk at home.”
“Is something going on?” I ask, suddenly concerned.
He shakes his head, but he’s clenching his jaw.
“Killian?”
“You sounded awful sassy on the phone. Now you’re bein’ all sweet.” His eyes travel my face.
“Well, yeah. I’m tipsy. And tipsy makes me like salted caramel. A little sweet, a little salty.”
His mouth twitches like he’s fighting off a smirk.
I continue talking. “Haven’t been tipsy in public in a long time. Except with you that night you took me to Genesis and that was barely tipsy because it was just a few glasses of wine. This, this is me with girlfriends and feeling a little like the old me again and cocktails and shooters, and… only some nachos and frickles for dinner, so I was sassy on the phone but now I see you and you’re all…” I gesture with a roll of my hand, “all Killian … and…” I shrug. “Guess I’m not brave enough to be sassy in person.” I giggle.
He chuckles with me, and God, it’s handsome. “All Killian?”
“Yep. Why did you cut my night short?” I ask.
“I got home and you weren’t there.”
“And?” I push.
“And…” he says, leaving it hanging.
“I was alone all week,” I inform.
“I’m aware. I was, too,” he says, tipping his head to one side.
And I find a modicum of comfort in that, for some reason. That he was alone. Not shacked up with Jessa or some other girl.