Page 67 of Dark Surrender

Pops winks at our bartender, and she flushes as she always does when he flirts with her. On a groan, I rest my forearms on the bar and drop my forehead on them.

What a mess.

The clink of shot glasses settles in front of us, and Pops nudges me with his shoulder. “Don’t leave me hangin’, kid,” he says with a smile in his voice.

“Let’s do this.” I groan, pick up the glass full of amber liquid, knock it against Dad’s, and down the hatch the bitch goes. It burns a river of fire to my belly. Before I get a chance to think, I grab the next, and it joins the other.

Doing what she does best, Till keeps us topped up as rock music pulses through my ex-wife’s bar. Some of her sisters drop by to say hi, more to my dad than me, but I get it. There are no hard feelings on my end. I fucked shit up. They’re loyal to Kali. It’s a tale as old as time and completely understandable.

With my back against the bar, elbows resting on the top, eyelids low, I hum and sway to Creed. A woman with bright pink hair and a saucy smile saunters over from her little friend group in the corner. She’s got a half-full glass of wine in hand.

Oh. I know what’s up.

She’s out here fishing, and I’m not wearing a ring. Not that it would stop her if I were.

Dad huffs a low, unsurprised laugh as the woman stops in front of me. She sways forward and acts like she’s drunk when she rests her hand on my knee and keeps it there. My lips spread into a slow grin as I flick my eyes down at her ballsy move, letting her know I see what she’s up to.

Dad snorts.

Her cheeks flush, and she bites her bottom lip, but she doesn’t back down. “I’m Tessa,” she purrs before putting the rim of her glass to her lips, all the while devouring me with her gaze as she finishes off the wine. When she finishes, she leans into my space, tits on my stomach, and reaches past me to set her empty on the bar. That naughty hand of hers slips up my thigh and brushes my crotch to give him a little attention. Sure, I’m flattered by her boldness, and she is kinda cute, but my dick is as flaccid as a boiled noodle.

“What’s your name?” she whispers in my ear. With her body in the way of prying eyes, she gives my cock a few solid rubs to get him on board with her plan to take me home tonight.

The thing is, I might be half drunk, and I might be dealin’ with my own shit that burying myself in a pussy could put off for the hour I’d spend with this… Teresa? Tiffany? Ah. Shit. I can’t even remember her name.

In another life, I might take her up on her offer to avoid my issues. But I’m not that man anymore. Neither is little me. He’s on team Iris, and won’t be cheering for any other team goin’ forth. Not now. Maybe never.

So I do what I do best to save her from the sting of rejection, and I go full asshole.

Notching my chin at her group of friends watching us from the corner, I whisper, “You all wanna fuck me tonight?”

My arrogance stiffens the woman’s back, and she removes her hand from my johnny as she steps out of my bubble, where she doesn’t belong.

Hand perched on her hip, her glare is glacial when she flips me off. “Fuck you,” she spits and spins around to march back to her friends.

To piss her off a little more, I offer her a tinkly wave goodbye and accompany it with my cocky grin.

“Christ,” Pops curses beside me.

“What choice did I have? Let her down easy and have her wondering all fuckin’ night why I didn’t want her? Or be the dick, so she can blame me?”

A look of surprise overtakes Dad’s face for half a beat before he nods as if he gets it. Then he lifts his hand, signaling for more shots from Till, which she provides against her will. More alcohol means no driving, which means no seeing Iris, which…

Fuck.

Iris.

My cock bucks against my fly.

This goddamn woman.

What the fuck has she done to me?

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Iris

Staring out the back screen door of my house, the dregs of sunlight disappear below the horizon just as my doorbell rings.