Hendrix (Caldwell Brothers)

“Booty call, huh?” Jagger holds his fist up, and she taps it with hers. “Nothing wrong with that.”

“I bet there will be a lot of happy men tonight after watching the three of you shake your fine, toned asses up on this bar.”

“Oh, my goodness, Toni,” I gasp and look at Jagger, feeling my face burning up. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize. I’m glad to be of service to the men in the area and, of course, the ladies, too.”

“Damn, boy, had I known you were providing services, I would have never sent that message.” Toni tosses back yet another shot he poured.

“Toni”—I cover my face—“we’re ladies.” And, who knows, I may have already had sex with him, I think to myself.

“And, as you figured out two weekends ago, a lady needs to own her sexuality,” Toni calls me out.

Oh, my goodness, I think as I feel my face start to burn.

“Oh, Toni, don’t stop there. Spill it. Tell me all about our little Livi’s—”

“No, Toni, don’t!” I snap, despite not meaning to. If she says one thing to him, and he is the Caldwell in question, I will be devastated. For a man like Jagger, I certainly wouldn’t be the one he would remember, even though I personally can’t stop the memories of that night.

She giggles. “A lady never tells, but Livi here owns her little sex-capades. She’s not—”

“Okay, enough.” I look at her with pleading eyes.

“Fine,” she says on a laugh and holds her hand up as Jagger pushes another shot her way. “One more of those, and I’ll be dragging your fine ass in the nearest,” she pauses, “closet.”

“Closet?” Jagger leans in. “How about right here on the bar?”

“Not on my bar,” Hendrix says with a laugh as he walks out from the back. “We’ve put it through enough tonight.”

Just then, Toni’s phone chimes. “My ride,” she pauses, “is pulling up as we speak.”

“You go get some, you sexy, sexy woman.” Jagger winks. “But, if he falls short”—he reaches down and grabs himself—“you come on back.”

She laughs, and I swear she starts to turn pink, which is very unlike her.

“Goodnight, girl.” She gives me a hug then walks out the door.

“Do you have to hit on every woman who walks in here?” Hendrix shakes his head.

“Oh”—Jagger throws his hands up in mock annoyance—“this coming from the panty burglar.”

“The what?” Hendrix chuckles.

Jagger laughs as he reaches down under the bar and grabs something out of his duffle then flings it on the bar. “Got these from the cleaners where I dropped off the suit.”

Recognition hits me. Instinctively, I immediately reach for them at the same time Hendrix does, knowing exactly what they are. We have a small game of tug of war going on as I want nothing more than to hide my panties and myself for the rest of eternity.

“One of you needs to step away,” Jagger laughs loudly. “Read them sassy little things. ‘Consent is fucking required.’”

Mortified, I pull my hand back and look up at Hendrix who appears shocked at my reaction.

I glance back at Jagger and force myself to laugh. “He wins.” I don’t dare look back at Hendrix. I can feel him watching me. “Another shot please.”

Chapter Nine

I shove the panties in my back pocket. “I’ll be back. You two think you can stay sober enough to sweep the floor?”

“Whoa, man, is it your time of the month?” Jagger laughs as he tosses the bar rag over his shoulder.

“Yeah, something like that.” I start for the door. “I’ll be back with your ride,” I say to Olivia without bothering to look back as I walk out the door.

Once the door closes behind me, the cold air hits my lungs, and I finally let out a breath. I stand there for a minute, trying to figure out what the fuck I’m gonna do about this little predicament I’ve found myself in. Sins of the father. I don’t want it to be like that.

After I realize my balls are in serious danger of freezing, I start the walk home. I should have left earlier when it was warmer, but that little, crazy chick held my attention and kept me amused the entire fucking night.

This shit is not good, not good at all. Fucking Jagger. It is his fault. I mean, sort of. If he had only gone to that damned benefit like he was supposed to, none of this would have happened.

I open up the garage door and look at the car, shaking my head while thinking about how much time I have spent on it. I mean, who the fuck does that? Not me. Well, not for some chick I fucked the hell out of and had no intention of seeing again, even if I didn’t know it was her when I started.

Then, she shows up at my bar, acting like the modern day version of some fairytale princess who needed saving. Cinderella and the little panties she left at the ball. Yet, I am no fucking Prince Charming. I don’t even like to cuddle and shit after getting laid. I need a few moments after I come to get my shit together before I even want to be touched. Although, I sure as hell am not the kind of guy who comes, gets up, and walks out. And she fucking ditched me. She, miss smut panties who loves cartoon cats and fairies, ditched me, and I cleaned up her ride.