The Do-Over (The Miles High Club #4)(82)

“Don’t yell at you!” I explode. “I’ve been worried sick all day. Do you know how fucking irresponsible you are?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“My phone was on silent while I read, and then I went to the bar and must have left it in the room. I wasn’t expecting a dog squad tracking my every move.”

“Dog squad!” I yell. “I’ll give you fucking dog squad.”

“I’m sorry you were worried, but I wasn’t expecting you to call me.” She rolls her eyes.

“That’s unacceptable,” I fire back. “Don’t fucking patronize me.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re being a drama queen. I’m going back to the bar.”

“Are you serious?” I yell.

“Yes. And you are supposed to be out there working right now . . . remember?”

I point to the door. “Get out!”

She smiles goofily, totally unfazed by my anger. “Okay.” She pecks me on the lips and leaves. My eyes nearly pop from my head. She did not just walk out midargument . . . I’m infuriated.

My blood pressure is through the roof.

I head out to my locker and pull out my backpack, and a drunk couple comes ambling down the corridor. They start making out, and as the girl walks backward, she falls on top of me.

“Watch what you’re fucking doing,” the guy growls to me.

I raise my eyebrows, my temper simmering dangerously close to the surface. I help the girl up. “I’m sorry you didn’t see me.”

She’s laughing and falling all over the place. “Hey, I’m glad I did,” she flirts.

The guy narrows his eyes at me, and I clench my jaw as I glare at him.

Come on, fucker . . . try me . . . I’m in the mood to sort you right out.

“Are you coming to the party?” The girl smiles sexily.

I roll my eyes and return to my backpack. Don’t go there.

I look through my backpack for something. I have to wear stupid white.

Shit, I discover that I only have a white sleeveless T-shirt and shorts. Not ideal to work behind the bar in, but it will have to do.

I get dressed and look in the mirror. Fuck, I look like a poser. My arms are too big for sleeveless. It will have to do; I have no alternative. I make my way out to the bar.

“Hey.” Eddie smiles excitedly. “I get to work with you tonight.”

“Great.” I nod. “Where do you want me?” My gaze wanders around the room as I search for Hayden.

“Oh . . . you’re hot.” A girl swoons. “I’ll have an Orgasm.” She smiles.

“Make that two.” Her friend laughs.

“A multiple. Bet you’ve given a few of those in your day,” the first girl adds, and they both burst out laughing. “And we’re next.”

Great . . . horny drunk girls . . . just what I need.

I turn my back to them. “Where’s the cocktail book?” I ask Eddie.

He passes it to me and goes back to serving. The people are standing ten deep, waiting to be served.

What the hell does a full moon have to do with people getting wasted? is what I’d like to know.

I read the directions for the Orgasms. I make them the best I can and hand them over. They’re guaranteed to taste like shit. “There you go.”

“What are you doing later?” the girl murmurs darkly. “We’d love to repay the favor and do a multiple for real.”

I fake a smile. “I’m busy.”

My eyes scan the crowd, busy trying to locate my wayward fucking girlfriend. Where the hell is she now?

“I’ll have a Corona,” a guy says.

“Sure.” I turn to get the Corona and glance over to see Hayden dancing with a group of girls.

There she is.

I serve a few more people, my eyes constantly flicking over to linger on Hayden.

She’s dancing and having the time of her life, totally unfazed. In her hot white dress.

I hate that she looks so edible.

A guy approaches her, and I stop what I’m doing. He puts his arm around her, and she steps back.

I keep watching.

“I’ll have two Guinnesses,” someone yells.

I turn to get the beers, my eyes fixed on my girl. The guy keeps talking to her and talking.

She takes a step back, and he takes a step forward.

He leans to say something in her ear.

Something snaps. The next thing I know I’m on the dance floor with my hand around the guy’s throat. “Back the fuck off.”





HAYDEN

My eyes widen in horror. “Christopher,” I yell. “What are you doing?”

Christopher glares at the guy he has in a choke hold. “You do not fucking touch her. Do you understand me!” he yells in his face.

The guy pushes him off. “Fuck off, pretty boy.” He then grabs me aggressively around the waist and slams my body into his. “I’ll do whatever I want with her.”

Oh no.

Christopher snaps. He pulls me from the idiot’s grip and pushes me out of the way and then punches the guy full in the face.

“Ahh,” I cry as the hit connects.

The guy returns a hit, and Christopher staggers back. He runs forward and tackles the guy to the ground as they fight. They wrestle around, arms and punches flying everywhere.