Bad Things (Tristan & Danika #1)(12)

I downed my own shot, blinking rapidly as it made my eyes water. I met Tristan’s eyes. “I hope you’re strong enough to carry me home if I get too blitzed. I’m not used to drinking like this.”

He flashed me those dangerous dimples. “Sweetheart, I could carry two of you home.”

I rolled my eyes, setting my shot glass down for another round. “I’ll bet you’ve done that before.”

“Done what?” he asked, looking thoroughly confused.

“Carried two women home.”

Tristan waved Cory off as he started to pour another shot. “I think that’s enough shots for the moment. We’ll take two margaritas on the rocks. Make mine a double, and one of your raspberry ones for her.”

“Make mine a skinny,” I added.

“No f**king way,” Tristan interjected.

I shot him a look.

“No f**king way,” he repeated. “You don’t need a skinny anything. You, my dear, are skinny enough.”

I glared. “Are you saying I’m too skinny?”

He laughed. “No, I’m not. As determined as you are to take offense, I was giving you a compliment. You look great. As a matter of fact, you look amazing. You don’t, however, look like you need to be counting calories.”

“Well, I look this way because I do count calories.”

“Well, give yourself a night off.”

Cory was already sliding us the margaritas, and already buzzed, it was pretty easy to take his advice, and just drink.

“I’m feeling awfully pretty,” I told Tristan as I finished the glass.

He choked out a laugh, setting down his own glass. “Well, you are pretty, so that’s good.”

“It’s a drunk thing. I know I’m drunk when I feel real pretty. What’s your drunk feeling?”

He thought about it for a moment, rubbing at that sexy stubble on his jaw. “I guess I know I’m really shit-faced when I start to think I’m invincible, or that I’m exempt from consequences. But yours sounds better. My new term for getting drunk has been officially changed to ‘feeling pretty’.”

“Feeling pretty, huh?” Cory called out from behind the bar. “Don’t think we won’t be giving you shit for that one!”

Tristan shrugged, not looking at all bothered by the notion.

Cory pointed to a spot behind us, and I turned to see Kenny approaching. There was a tall young man with black hair next to him who looked uncannily familiar, though I had to study him hard for a minute to figure out why.

It was only as Tristan rose and embraced the black-haired one that I realized that they must be related. The other man was much thinner than Tristan, though they were of a height.

Tristan was grinning as he made quick introductions. “Danika, this is my little brother, Jared. Jared, this is my friend, Danika.”

Jared smiled as he leaned in close to shake my hand. The dimples ran in the family, and Jared used them almost as lethally as Tristan did. His wrists were layered with black and silver bracelets, and I saw that his arms were inked with full sleeves that disappeared into the arms of his black T-shirt. The brothers definitely shared a love for tattoos.

“Nice to meet you,” Jared said, and I saw the piercing in his lip as he spoke.

“You too,” I told him.

“How do you know my brother?” he asked, propping his arm on the back of my chair.

“He’s crashing at my boss’s place. We met earlier today, actually.” It felt weird to say that. I felt like I’d known him for a lot longer than a day already.

“Wanna dance?” Jared asked.

“Hey now!” Tristan said, throwing an arm around his brother’s shoulder. “I’ve been waiting all night to dance with her. You don’t just get to walk up here and cut in!”

He was smiling as he said it, which let me know he wasn’t serious, but serious or not, Jared backed off instantly.

“Of course, bro!” Jared said. “It just seemed like a waste to me, that she’d be sitting in here, instead of dancing in there.”

Tristan finished his drink and set the glass down hard on the bar. He shrugged out his suit jacket, draping it over the back of his chair. I tried not to stare at the sight of him in his tight black T-shirt, and the display of tattoos on his hard muscled arms, but it was distracting.

“By God, you’re right!” he declared. “Let’s go, Danika! We’ve wasted precious dance floor time drinking!”

CHAPTER FIVE

Tristan didn’t waste any time after that, pulling me straight into the chaos of the dance floor. House music was playing, which wasn’t always my favorite, but I could work with it. Whatever the DJ was doing had a good beat, which was all I needed.

I smiled as Tristan moved in front of me, facing me to dance. It was a mischievous smile, because I knew, just absolutely knew, that I was about to blow his mind.

I didn’t do the Vegas bump and grind thing that people called dancing. I was a trained dancer. I’d trained in ballroom, salsa, hip-hop, and club dancing. Hell, I’d even trained in belly dancing. Although my obsession was hands-down ballroom, I had my club freestyle down to a science.

I started with one little hair toss just to get his attention. I raised my hands above my head, and began my own scintillating version of a gyrate.