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I reach for the beer and drain half of it. “She offered to kiss my war wound and make it better until she found out I’m an amputee. Then she couldn’t escape fast enough.” I set my bottle down a little too hard, and it sloshes onto the tabletop.
Tucker makes a face. “You’re better off. You’d probably catch something antibiotics can’t cure.”
I smile automatically, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. Like I needed a reminder that a missing leg is a massive turnoff. I never had trouble getting a woman before, back when I was whole.
But that was before.
Before I was damaged. Scarred. Broken.
I don’t realize I’ve sighed out loud until Tucker raps on the tabletop. “Quit with the pity party, Chandler. So some slutty chick is too shallow to see you for who you really are. Big deal. There are a lot of assholes in this world, and if you’re smart, you’ll avoid them.”
I drag one hand over my whiskers. “You’re right. She just caught me off guard.”
Tucker grins. “Of course I’m right.” He turns to the closest screen, becoming absorbed in a pair of featherweights pummeling each other in a boxing ring. I try to watch too, but regrets still occupy my mind, useless wishes that my life had turned out differently.
That I wasn’t half a man now.
A couple of beers later, I’ve calmed down. Yeah, some woman bailed after finding out about my leg, but it’s not like I was interested in her. She approached me. I’d been wishing she would disappear before she flipped out and ran off. She saved me the trouble of asking her to leave.
Things take another turn the next time Tucker heads to the bar. He hasn’t even waded through the crowd to the bar before another blonde slides into his seat, her gaze roaming over me like I’m on tonight’s menu. Her green eyes remind me of Charlie’s. She’s dressed in a skintight black dress and skyscraper heels.
“I’m Champagne,” she says, her voice husky. Champagne sounds like a stripper’s name, and her outfit certainly supports that theory.
“Mark,” I reply, smiling blandly. Her cloying perfume assaults my nostrils, and I change my mind. Her eyes are nothing like Charlie’s. Charlie would never apply makeup with a trowel.
‘Forgive me, but I couldn’t help noticing your right leg.”
My missing leg.
Seriously?
“You’re an amputee, right?”
My tone is sharp. “Yes, Champagne. I lost my leg in Afghanistan.”
Her pupils dilate and her breathing quickens. “That is so fucking hot.”
My jaw drops.
I whirl around to locate Tucker. He’s got to be behind this. But once again, he’s talking to the bartender, not looking my way.
“I’m a stump bunny.”
“I – a what?”
“A stump bunny. You know. Amputations turn me on. Like, really turn me on.” Her voice has a sudden urgency.
This is a thing?
Apparently she’s not kidding. She’s practically panting, right there at the table. She reaches both hands across the table and wraps them around my forearm. “Wanna get out of here?”
What. The. Fuck.
I’m looking around for the hidden camera when Tucker reappears, glancing from me to Champagne and back.
“Champagne, this is Tucker. Tucker, Champagne. Champagne was just leaving,” I say firmly.
“Maybe I could give you a ride,” she offers throatily. Tucker snorts with laughter, and she glares at him. “A ride home.”
