Four Seconds to Lose (Ten Tiny Breaths, #3)(92)
Shaking my head, I say, “Give it to Nate. I don’t want to touch your wax-covered piece.”
“No?” He shoves a pretzel into his mouth, his grin widening. “What about my latex-covered piece?” Ben apparently checked out of work about two hours ago and since then has been drinking by the bar, celebrating with the regular customers, so he’s good and primed.
“Fuck off, Morris,” Cain growls, appearing behind me to grip my hips and pull me into him.
Ben looks from me to his now ex-boss with a smirk, as if he knows what we were doing not fifteen minutes ago in his office. “Or what? You gonna fire me?”
“No, I’m going to ban you from Penny’s.”
That wrenches Ben’s smile fast. “Well, f*ck. I better get my fill, then,” he mutters, running over to grab Mercy by the thighs to hoist her over his shoulder. She squeals and smacks his back, though there doesn’t appear to be much force behind it.
With a chuckle and a shake of his head, Cain dips down to kiss the crook of my neck. I’m still shocked by his willingness to show his affection so openly. It’s been a fast change but a dramatic one. And everyone seems to be accepting of it.
Almost everyone.
In my peripheral vision, I see China watching the display. I avoid her and she pretends I don’t exist. It’s the perfect level of interaction. I know Cain sees a side of her that I don’t see. That no one else sees. Still, I don’t trust her. I can’t help but wonder, if she attacked me as she had Kinsley, what Cain would do. Would he make a choice between us? And would that choice be me?
I don’t doubt that China has strong feelings for Cain. I mean, how can she not? She’s known him for years. I’ve known him for six weeks—half of that intimately—and I already can’t manage life without him.
For all that I hate about what I’ve done, there’s one thing I can’t regret.
It led me to him.
I don’t know if things are moving too fast. I’m too ensconced in this Cain high to appreciate basic rules and he seems uninterested in slowing down. He’s filling his kitchen with Frosted Flakes and every other kind of food I might like, talking about me moving in, giving me a key to his condo, practically demanding that I go on the pill.
Everything about him screams “future.”
And I haven’t heard a peep from Sam. Though I still keep my eyes open, always aware of my surroundings, it’s not with the same level of trepidation as before. It’s more out of habit than anything else.
“Bartender!” I hear Kacey holler, slapping her hands against the bar as if in a drum roll. Behind her, Trent towers, his hands around her waist, those deep dimples on full display as he winks at Ginger.
“Charlie.” Storm strolls over, looking fresh and beautiful, even though it’s the middle of the night and she should be sleeping. She doesn’t hesitate to offer me a hug. “How’s it going? How is being Cain’s manager working out?”
“Less exposing,” I answer truthfully and then can’t help but smirk, because that’s not really true. I’m just less exposed to the general population. Cain’s “no sex in the workplace” rule has fallen by the wayside. Daily.
“Where is the jackass?” Kacey’s eyes roam the club as Ginger lines up a row of tequila shots.
“Right here!” Ben hollers, seconds before he swoops in to lift Kacey’s frame from behind into a big hug. Dropping her on the ground, he slaps Trent’s shoulder in greeting and grabs a shot from the bar just as the overhead lights shut off and the stage lights flash on once again.
“Let’s get this party started!” Terry’s voice spills out over the speaker system, followed by “Lady Marmalade.” A parade of dancers strut out from behind the curtain wearing an array of brightly colored burlesque costumes. Ben’s face lights up like a kid at an ice-cream shop. Ginger told me they were planning something extra-special for their favorite bouncer’s send-off. Though nothing is choreographed, it’s quite the spectacle all the same.
“To Lawyer Boy. God help us all!” Kacey shouts and we all—including Cain—grab a shot and down it, the burn scorching my throat. Nate and a few of the other bouncers drag Ben, completely willingly, over to pervert row to enjoy the performance.
“All right, Dee!” Gingers exclaims, clapping her hands together. “We’re gonna make Ben puke tonight. Trust me, he’ll deserve it. Cain . . .” She bows. “Will you do the honor of the first drink?”
I watch with surprise as Cain pulls away from me to round the corner. I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen him behind the bar, but I’d imagine years of owning one would give him plenty of opportunity to practice. He moves easily, not even reading labels before he’s got four bottles lined up in front of him. He smiles to himself as he begins deftly measuring and pouring the gold tequila into three separate mixers.
Next goes the Jim Beam and the bourbon. By the time I see him tipping back the scotch, I’m pretty sure I’d rather light my tongue on fire than drink what he’s making. Glancing over at Ben, lying shirtless on the stage with his arms nestled under his head, a dreamy grin on his face and both Hannah and Mercy dancing provocatively over him, I wonder if he should be drinking it either.
“It’s going to be a shit show in here, really soon,” I hear Cain mutter under his breath as he comes back around to take the seat next to me, pulling me into him once again.