Bad Things(16)

“You do realize that I can’t carry you home…” All four men laughed, and I’d have been lying if I said that I didn’t enjoy the attention of four good-looking men.

Cory slapped five shots down on the bar, and we shot them. I’d barely set my glass back down before Tristan was dragging me off again.

We were back at it the instant we stepped out on the floor. I could tell right away that he was feeling more flirtatious this time, moving closer to me, his hand at the small of my back.

“You making a move on me?” I called out to him, but I wasn’t pushing him away.

I was relieved when he shook his head. His smile was innocent enough, but I thought there was a hint of something else in his eyes.

“Just dancing, sweetheart.”

I dropped low, really low, and shook my way back up, my hands just brushing his thighs as I rose.

“You making a move on me?” he called out with a laugh.

I shook my head at him, giving him a wide-eyed, innocent look. “Just dancing, sweetheart.”

It was on after that. He’d caress my hip. I’d counter that by a turn and an extra little arch of my back, just brushing up against him. He’d curse loudly, but we kept dancing.

I was actually giggling when he finally pulled me back into the lounge. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d giggled.

“I’m conceding, but only because I think you’d go until we both passed out, just to prove a point,” Tristan told me as we walked.

“All I heard just now was ‘blah, blah, blah Danika wins’.”

He stopped, shaking his head and laughing. “I like you,” he told me.

I wrinkled my nose at him. “I like you, too, platonic friend of mine.”

We were both grinning like fools as we rejoined the group.

Cory served us another round. Kenny and Jared immediately started making cracks when they saw that Tristan was drinking a margarita.

“He drinks those to feel pretty,” Cory made sure to add. “True story.”

“Real men don’t drink margaritas,” Jared told me, waving his bottle of beer.

I pointed at the bottle. “That will give you a beer gut.”

Jared grinned, lifting up his shirt to show me some very nice abs. “Hasn’t been a problem so far.”

I was a little too tipsy not to give him a very big smile for the very nice show.

Tristan slapped a hand onto his brother’s shoulder, leaning in to say something in his ear. Whatever it was wiped the smile from Jared’s face. He let his shirt drop.

“Give us a minute,” Tristan said, moving a few feet away.

They had a short, hushed conversation before returning to us. Tristan’s face was very blank, but Jared’s looked slightly flushed, perhaps with temper.

“So are you in this band that Tristan claims to be in?” I asked Kenny.

Kenny beamed at me. “Yes, I am. All four of us are, plus one of our buddies who isn’t here tonight.”

“What kind of music do you play?” I asked.

“Rock.”

I wasn’t surprised in the least. “So who plays what?”

“I’m bass, Jared is lead guitar, Cory is drums, Tristan is lead vocals, and our friend Dean is rhythm guitar.”

I shot Tristan a look. “Gee, the lead singer of a rock band. I’m shocked. I never would have guessed.” Sarcasm dripped from every word.

He seemed to find that funny, which was good. I’d much rather have him think I was funny, than be offended by my sense of humor.

“So when and where do I get to see you play?” I asked, turning back to Kenny.

Kenny’s brow furrowed. “I’m not sure. Dean is setting up some gigs for us. Of course you’re invited, whenever that happens.”

“So what are your day jobs?” I asked, figuring they all had to have one.

“As you’ve seen, Cory is a bartender, and I’m a valet parker on the weekends here. Our friend Dean is a blackjack dealer. And Tristan and Jared are both in the club promoting business.”

“They get paid to party,” Cory added.

I couldn’t seem to keep my two cents in. “All I think when I hear club promoter is drug dealer, or unemployed.”

Jared grimaced.

Tristan just laughed. “You’re coming to the next club party I host,” he said, pointing at me.

I shrugged, giving him a sassy look. “Don’t threaten me with a good time…”