Deal Makers (Dealing with Love 3)

“Have fun,” our driver says as we exit the vehicle.

Yeah...I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, buddy.

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHARLEE

Drew looks like a junkie in a pharmacy. His eyes are wide, bouncing all over the darkened club like a pinball, torn between the stage in the center of the room, or the multitude of dancers grinding on laps.

“Do you want to sit against the wall or at a table?”

“Don’t care,” he replies, eyes still going wild.

Tufted leather benches line the walls and small tables surrounded by club chairs are scattered across the floor. I find a two-top in the middle of the room and point to it.

“There’s an open spot.”

He nods in acknowledgment and takes my hand to lead me across the room. I try ignoring the thrill that courses through my body from such a simple touch, but the Notorious V.A.G. is a stubborn bitch sometimes. Okay, most times.

Drew pulls my chair out and gestures for me to sit.

I smile as I plant my ass on the cushion. “And they say chivalry is dead.”

He winks. “Not with me, it isn’t.”

Within seconds, a string-bikini-clad waitress is by our side. “Can I get you two a drink?”

“Vodka tonic,” I say. “Belvedere if you have it.”

The waitress nods and looks at Drew expectantly. “And you, cutie?”

Cutie? I’m sure she uses that little term of endearment often, but that doesn’t stop my proverbial claws from lengthening.

Drew never takes his eyes off of me as he replies. “I’ll have a double of Jack, neat, and a bottle of Coors.”

I wait until the waitress leaves before speaking. “Two drinks, huh?”

“It seems about right for our size difference, don’t you think? I have two drinks for every one of yours.”

“As long as you can still get it up later, I don’t care how much you drink.”

His oversized body shakes with laughter. “Is that where you see this evening going, Charlee?”

I shrug. “A girl can hope. It’s not like I have to worry about taking advantage of you in an inebriated state.”

He smiles. “And why’s that?”

“People’s inhibitions are lower when they drink. Sometimes, it leads to decisions they wouldn’t normally make. With you, I have no doubt that you’d want to bang me when you’re perfectly sober, so there’s no question about it if you’re sauced. And for the record, no matter how drunk I get, I’d still want to ride you, so you don’t need to worry about me either.” I wink.

Warm, twinkly eyes meet mine as he appears to consider my statement. He doesn’t say anything so I wait him out, staring expectantly. After a few minutes of complete silence, he finally says, “Hmmm...”

“Hmmm?” I repeat. “That’s all you’re going to give me, huh?” We’re interrupted when our waitress delivers our drinks so I wait until she’s gone. “Well? Are you going to answer me?”

His mouth opens to reply but then it snaps shut. He rolls his lips and tries again. Instead of a third attempt, he picks up the glass in front of him and drains the contents in one long gulp. I know he’s having some kind of internal battle. Don’t ask me how I know that, I just do. And it likely has something to do with this stupid code of his. Instead of pushing it, I decide redirection is the best course of action.

“You know what, Big Guy? Let’s get you a lap dance—my treat. What’s your pleasure? Blonde, brunette or redhead?”

He smirks, probably from my oh-so-obvious diversion. “Lady’s choice.”