Page 64 of Wine & Dine

“The ones in the bathroom. Alicia something and someone named Hunny.” She chokes on the second name as if it must be a joke. It is a joke. Both women are.

“They’re nobodies.”

“Well, they seemed pretty familiar with your body, especially Alicia. She says she can’t wait until I leave so you’ll go back to her.”

“What? I would never…” But I stop abruptly. I’ve already cut Alicia off, but that doesn’t stop the stalking. An occasional text. A suggestive message.

“I see,” Dolores mutters.

“No, you don’t. I’m not here with Alicia. I’m here with you. You heard Ingrid. I never bring dates to these things.”

Dolores eyes me a moment. “You don’t bring one so you can go home with someone random.”

The statement stings although she isn’t wrong.

“I thought we weren’t going to do this. Bring up past mistakes like Alicia.” It isn’t true, actually. We haven’t discussed what we would or wouldn’t reveal to each other. Most things have just come naturally between us. I told her about Kate. She told me about Rusty. That’s all we need to know. Neither of us is attached to another, but then again, we haven’t confirmed we’re attached to each other. I didn’t think we needed to define things. We’re nearly living together, spending every day and night with one another.

“Listen. Alicia is…”

Suddenly, music flares to life, and the lights of the ballroom dim. A microphone squeaks, and Ingrid chuckles over the loudspeaker.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please enjoy this evening’s entertainment. And Garrett Fox, you owe me a dance.” Being called out at this most inopportune moment doesn’t make me happy. Dolores smiles weakly as her eyes flit over my shoulder. Before seeing her, I sense Ingrid on the path for me.

“One dance, and then we are out of here,” I warn Dolores. She nods as Ingrid approaches, and I put on my best face to greet the matron of this fundraiser. Escorting her to the dance floor, we begin to move, but I keep my eyes trained on Dolores with every turn.

“She’s very beautiful although not who I would expect you to date.”

“Ingrid.” I chuckle cautiously. “You shouldn’t pretend to know my type.”

“I was your type once,” she mutters, reminding me of another night of poor judgment. Ingrid is roughly the same age as Dolores and a beautiful woman in her own right, although she’s had some work done since our night together. It’s wrong of me to be dancing with her, but I’m putting on a social face for the charity.

“Well, she is my type,” I say in defense of Dolores. “She’s everything I’ve ever needed.” It’s all true. She’s funny, a bit awkward, sexy as hell, and smart. Ingrid’s brow lifts, surprise on her sculptured face.

“She’s a lucky woman.”

“No, I’m a lucky man.”

The tempo changes, and a sultry song begins. Ingrid steps back from me, and I bow as if I’m grateful for the dance. The music drifts, sounding like a modern tango. I decide I’d like one dance with Dolores before we head upstairs, and I’m crossing the dance floor, on a mission for her, when Alicia intercedes me.

“Garrett, I’ve been looking for you all night.”

“Really?” I snap. “Stalking much.”

Alicia smirks, pressing at my chest. She dips her head and smiles upward like she’s flirting with me, but her eyes say she’s a cat ready to pounce, claws only hidden within her paws. We stand on the edge of the dance floor but still within the realm of the overhead spotlight. I don’t wish to make a scene, but I’m about to cause one if she doesn’t move out of my way.

“Let’s dance,” she mutters, pressing me backward, under the stream of brighter lights, and I know I’m fucked.