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Talon’s eyes widened in disbelief before narrowing slightly. He didn’t say anything, but I could tell he was processing the information. I didn’t dwell on it, waving the waitress back to order a Jack and Coke. She seemed tense, tapping my order into a small tablet with electric-blue nails before turning to Talon, her expression a little too tight for comfort.
“What’ll you have?” she asked him, her tone curt.
“Seltzer with a twist of lime, no ice,” Talon said, his tone firm.
I couldn’t help but shake my head. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I leaned back, stretching my arms across the top of the banquette, trying to goad him a bit.
Talon shot me a glare. “I gotta work tomorrow.”
“Live a little,” I urged, trying to break through that stoic wall he’d built up.
“I have plenty of time to live, and I don’t make the same money in a week like you.”
“But you can,” I countered, raising an eyebrow.
“In real estate? No thanks. Not after hearing the stories you tell.”
The music suddenly surged, rattling the walls, and I saw Talon wince.
“What’s the matter?” I yelled over the din.
“I can’t hear shit!” he shouted back, clearly not enjoying himself.
“Let’s hit the dance floor!” I called, trying to salvage the night. “We can find a few women to dance with.”
He leaned in closer, his expression skeptical. “Did you ask me to come with you so we could hang out, or because you needed a wingman?”
“Hang out,” I insisted, playing up my mock offense. “I haven’t seen you in weeks.”
He looked around. “Where the hell is the bathroom in this place?”
Luckily, the VIP lounge had its own private restroom, and I pointed it out to him. Talon got up, adjusting his gray slacks before heading off. As I sat there, legs crossed and foot tapping to the beat, I scanned the room. The night wasn’t shaping up too badly, and there were plenty of women around who could make for interesting company later.
Our waitress returned to drop off the bottle of Dom Perignon to the bridal party next to us before bringing our drinks. I waited, watching for the bride’s reaction. Sure enough, after the waitress whispered something to her, she looked over and waved. I smiled, a little smugly, as she took it as an invitation and walked over.
She was shapely, with large breasts and a small waist, and for a brief moment, I wondered if I could convince her to forget her impending nuptials for the night. When she extended her hand, I ignored it and instead leaned in, planting a light kiss on her cheek.
“Congratulations,” I said, pulling back just enough to see her reaction.
Her smile was small and bashful, a look I’d seen many times before. “Th-thank you,” she stammered, clearly flustered.
The silly little look on her face told me all I needed to know—this might be easier than I thought.
Talon narrowed his eyes as he squeezed lime into his drink, clearly unimpressed. “What the hell is that all about?”
“I kissed her,” I said, not even trying to hide the smugness in my voice. I kept my eyes on the bride, chewing on my bottom lip, enjoying the attention.
“You can be a real asshole,” Talon muttered, taking a sip of his seltzer.
“I bet I can hit that if I wanted,” I continued, feeling a bit too cocky. “She’s getting married tomorrow.”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be an ass.”
“Hey, one last fling,” I said, shrugging as I took a sip of my drink, feeling the familiar burn of whiskey as it slid down my throat.
“Leave her alone,” Talon insisted, his tone firm.
“Talon, you act like I’m a predator.”
