“Are you okay?” The man sitting next to me pats my back.
I blink at him with wet eyes and cringe. My dream guy neighbor is patting my back like I’m an idiot who’s had her first taste of whiskey. Yep, that’s me.
Blinking, I cough again and clear my throat. “I’m fine.” My voice sounds raspy and strained as I talk over the burning of my vocal cords.
The bartender snickers while pouring Damon a mug of draft beer, and then sets it down on the table with a snap.
I glare at him and wrinkle my nose. I don’t need a condescending prick making fun of me.
Damon inches closer and rubs my back. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
The sensation of his hand on my flesh crashes through my embarrassment. I blink and clutch my throat. “I’m good.” My heart pounds in my chest, and butterflies flutter in my stomach. I’ve never been around someone who’s as virile and commanding.
Randy has been my only experience with the opposite sex, and Damon has at least sixty pounds on him. My eyes sweep over him, and I’m not talking about a beer gut – under his shirt must be pure muscles and man.
My hands shake, and I move back. Damon is too much of a fire to play with. Little girls like me get burned by men like him.
My father warned me repeatedly about older men and their taste for younger women. Soraya rolls her eyes each time, but his words are etched into my brain. Is Damon one of those guys? A man who likes to dominate. My nipples pucker, and I clasp my hands together in my lap to keep from advertising my nervousness around him.
Damon
I grasp the handle of my frosty mug with its good head of foam. Dalilah’s big brown eyes are like pools of chocolate, and her dark hair flows along her shoulders and back. She’s stunning.
The desire to wrap the strands around my hand and pull her into my lap is strong. The pink pout of her lips is more intoxicating than the beer in my hand, and the three I’d slammed down before exiting my hotel room.
Spending two or three hours at the rehearsal dinner is less appealing than going to get a colonoscopy. If Brandi wasn’t going to be there, it would be pleasant. Fun even. But she’s going to be there and seated at my right hand. My daughter on the left.
I pick up the cold brew and let the liquid slide down my throat. How long can I hide out here before someone looks for me? Dalilah fidgets with her purse. “I never asked. Are you alone?”
She jerks and stares at me. A streak of crimson covers her cheeks. “Yes.”
“Why?”
She gives me a halfhearted smile. “It’s a long story, but it ends with my cousin sucking off my boyfriend. I caught them together yesterday afternoon.” She shakes her head. “He had the nerve to say it was my fault.”
The anger running through my veins is unexpected. What man in his right mind would cheat on this angel? She’s gorgeous. The man must not have eyes. I grit my teeth and try to relax my muscles. “He’s a pussy.”
“What?” She stares at me in question.
“A real man doesn’t cheat on a beautiful woman. He cherishes her.” I down the rest of my drink and slam it on the counter. “How did he blame it on you?”
As a father, I’d warned my daughter repeatedly about weak men. Someone hurting either Dalilah or Karissa sets my blood on fire. Although it made complete sense regarding my daughter, my anger on Dalilah’s behalf is a little perplexing. It must be her youth bringing out my protective side.
She stares at her hands. “I don’t really enjoy sex. And he says a man has needs.” She shrugs. “He’s an investment banker, and it’s a stressful job. Sex is one of the ways he likes to relieve his tension.”
“Bullshit.” The blood vessels in my temple thud. What in the hell kind of asshole is this guy?
She smiles with a little twinkle in her eye. “That’s what I said as I snapped a photo for irrefutable evidence and poured an entire bottle of green mouthwash on his white carpet.”
Laughter spills out of my lips, and I grab my stomach. “That’s awesome.”
“Thank you.” She straightens her shoulders and motions to the bartender. When he arrives at her side, she purses her lips. “I’ll take a Strawberry Daquiri.” Her eyes stay trained to him as if challenging him to smart off about her drink choice.
“Yes, ma’am.” He nods and pours a combination of liquids into a glass to make her drink.
She taps her fingernails on the counter. “After I left his place, I knew I needed to get out of town for a few days and get beyond the initial sting. Daytona has too many bikers to go by myself, Texas has too many drunk girls flashing their tits, and I’m not into giving a free show, so I chose Tahoe.”
I shake my head. The woman is a total conundrum. She’s shy, but ballsy. Hurt, but strong enough to fight back. It’s refreshing to meet someone equal parts feminine and tough. Too bad I only have the weekend. I’d love to get to know her better.
What in the hell is wrong with me? There’s zero reason she’d be interested in a man whose old enough to be her father.
She takes a sip and smiles around the rim of the glass. “Thank God. This is so much better.”
“Why the bar and not the night club?”
“I told my best friend I’d get out and party. I’m a good girl that’s always at the library studying or working. She challenged me to get out and get laid.”
“Oh.” I cough and grasp my beer. Images of Dalilah’s mouth sliding over my body, causes my fingers to tremble.
She leans over and whispers, “I figure I can come in here, have a few drinks, and go back to my room. She never has to know I chickened out.”
My eyes fall to her lips. “Do you want to chicken out?” What’s wrong with me? When she runs her tongue over her plump bottom lip, my cock jumps.
“I don’t like big parties. I prefer a more intimate setting.” She sits the drink on the counter.
Intimate and Dalilah course through my veins. Is she coming onto me? God, I’ve been out of the dating scene so long, I don’t even know when someone’s flirting. The women I’ve been with over the years were quite blatant with their advances. Dalilah doesn’t seem to be that same type of woman.
“There you are,” calls a voice from behind us.
Every muscle in my body tenses. How in the hell did Brandi find me? Oh, fuck. I swallow. Shiiit. Dalilah is the polite type that will introduce herself. Oh, for the love of God, I’m going to look like a total douche bag.
Dalilah swivels on her stool, lifts an eyebrow, and studies the woman I used to be married to as she stalks across the wooden floor.
“Karissa is worried about you.”
I push up my sleeve and look at my wristwatch. I’m not late. “We’re not due at dinner until seven o’clock.”
“Fine.” She snaps. “I was looking all over for you.” She gives Dalilah a condescending sneer and dismisses her.
Dalilah stands, straightens her shoulders, and positions herself between Brandi and me.
Apparently, that is all the ammunition Dalilah needs to snap. She’s been through a lot during the last twenty-four hours and being snubbed is obviously the last straw. Hell, I understand. Brandi pisses me the fuck off too. But lord, I’m about to have a front-row seat at a shitshow.