“Shanna! Shut. Up,” Chelle hurls across the bar.
“You have a fucked up idea about nice. In my book, getting a woman too drunk to refuse is akin to forcing her.”
The bartender continues to smirk, like her friend’s safety is all in good fun. “You must be Nikolai?”
Something moves in my chest.
Chelle was talking about me? With her friend?
I shouldn’t be so satisfied about that fact, but I am.
“Yep,” Chelle answers for me, putting her hand on my chest and leaving it there. “This is the infamous Nikolai.” She pats me, and I have to resist the urge to catch her fingers and kiss them. “Beater-Upper of Brothers.”
“Uh huh. So I’m thinking you don’t really have that much room to get judgey with me.” Chelle’s friend folds her arms and raises her brows. “Beater-Upper of Brothers.”
“A discussion for another time, perhaps.” I turn Chelle to face the door. “Does she owe you anything?”
“Nope. Have fun!” There’s a gleeful tone in her voice that implies I’m about to do the same thing that mudak hoped to do with Chelle, and it irritates me.
But then Chelle hooks her arm through mine, using me to help balance her as she weaves through the tables to the door, and I forget it all.
Maybe I’m not pissed that asshole got her drunk because it gave me this chance to see her with her guard down. Find out what’s under the surface of Chelle’s fiery personality.
I lead her to where I parallel parked my new Tesla S and open the passenger door. “Oh my God, you have a Tesla?” she gushes as she climbs in. “I love Teslas! I totally want one. Where do you charge it?”
“In the garage of my building,” I say before I shut the door.
She’s a fun drunk, for sure. As much as I love the woman with attitude, I love this friendly version even more. Especially because I know she usually keeps it buttoned up.
“I’m sorry my friend said she was trying to get me laid,” she slurs when I climb behind the wheel and merge into traffic. “She’s ridiculous. I mean, completely ridiculous. She knows I don’t do casual sex, but she works in a bar, so that’s pretty much all she sees or does. She seems to think it would solve everything for me.”
“What needs solving?” I ask.
“Well—” She pauses and looks over at me, her lips parted. Then she shakes her head quickly. “Um, nothing. Nothing at all. That’s the thing. I don’t need fixing.” She holds her palm out like a stop sign. “And I definitely don’t do players.”
“Who are you referring to?”
“To whom,” she corrects then winces. “Sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t correct your English. I’m such a bitch.”
“Why not? I would correct your Russian. It’s fine. To whom are you referring? Me?”
“Oh God,” she moans and covers the half of her face closest to me with one hand.
“You think I’m a player, Chelle?”
“Well, obviously.”
I can’t decide why that irritates me. “Why do you think so?”
She removes her hand and gives me an up and down look. “The way you dress, your innuendos, the, um, thing you said to me.”
I can’t resist a half-smile.
“I’m not a player,” I tell her, even though it’s a lie. My entire relationship history has been a series of one-night stands.
She doesn’t buy it. Her look would be withering if she were sober, but drunk, it’s just adorable. “You are totally a player. How many serious girlfriends have you had?” she demands.
I tighten my lips and keep my gaze on the road.
“Aha! None, am I right?”
“My profession hasn’t lent itself to relationships. They were forbidden.”
Even drunk, Chelle is smart enough to pick up on the tense I used. “Were?”
I shrug. “There were rules against it. Rules with deadly consequences. But my boss has eased them.”
“Your boss with the fancy building?”
“That’s right.” I pass her apartment and find a parking spot a half a block away.
She looks around animatedly as I let the Tesla do the parallel parking. “Wait, how did you know where I lived?”
“I’ve been here before, Freckles. To get the title to Zane’s car.”
“Oh yeah.” She shoots me a look I can’t decipher then throws open her door.
I open mine and get out, too. I don’t plan to go in, but I’d be a dick not to make sure she gets into her apartment safely. She’s still wasted.
I escort her upstairs and take her keys from her to open the door. “Spokoynoy nochi,” I say.
“What’s that mean?”
“Good night.”
She stops and turns then surprises me by reaching out and fisting my shirt. She gives a tug.
At first I don’t move, but as much as I don’t want to take advantage of her right now, I also don’t want to leave.
She’s far too enthralling.
“You should come inside.” Her words tumble out, one right on the top of the other.