Hustler (13 page)

“Well, wouldn’t you know it,” Gavin waved sarcastically, pointing at the table
directly
next to us. “It looks like we’re sitting next to each other, too.”

“Fuck my life,” I whisper to myself.

“What was that?” Nick asks, leaning closer, concern written across his face.

“Nothing,” I smile, hoping it doesn’t look as fake as it feels. I turn to Gavin, the smile immediately replaced with a sneer. “You can’t get her to put you somewhere else?” I hiss.

“We’re quite full this evening,” Bitch-Face Hostess answers in a snooty tone, making my palm twitch.

“See,” Gavin grins like the bastard he is. “All full. Looks like we’ll be having dinner together.”

“Uh… um,” Nick stutters at the same time I declare, “No we aren’t!” a little too loudly. “
We
are having dinner together,” I say, waving my hand back and forth between me and Nick. “
You
are sitting at
your own
table having
your own
dinner, and leaving us alone.”

“Um, am I missing something? Do you guys know each other outside of the hotel?” Poor Nick, I’ve never seen the guy look more confused.

“No!” I shout at the same time Gavin responds, “Yes.”

“We do not!” I hiss at him.

“Oh, but I think we do,” he replies lasciviously. “There as that time in the storage closet—”

“I got locked in!” I shout, cutting him off as I turn back to Nick and lie through my teeth. “I got locked in and Gavin helped me out. Forgot all about that,” I laugh, a bit manically. “Yep, I’m clumsy like that.”

One of Nick’s blonde eyebrows cocks up as he studies my red face. I can feel the sweat beginning to bead along my forehead. Why is it that when you pray for a massive black hole to open up and swallow you, it never happens, but then you turn on the news and see that some poor soul drove his car into a sinkhole that opened up out of nowhere.

It’s not fair, I tell you!

“You all right, gorgeous?” Nick asks.

“Fine!” I answer too brightly. “I’m fine. You want some wine? I think we should totally get some wine,” I ramble, grabbing the wine list off the table and scanning over it, like I have any idea what I’m looking at. Usually I just grab the bottle off the bottom shelf at the grocery store. You know, the one with a twist top that only costs five bucks.

“Um,
okaaaaay
,” he answers with uncertainty. I can see it written all over his face, he thinks I’m off my rocker.

“That’s a stunning dress, Miss Prescott,” Gavin says in a casual tone. When I turn my head to look at him, I notice his tone is deceiving. His eyes are pinned on my exposed back and I can practically see the fire dancing behind his nearly black gaze. It causes me to shiver. “It’s a rather daring choice.” He says the word
daring
in a way that I know means he’s cottoned on to the fact I wore it to spite him. “You wear it very well.”

“Th-thanks,” I stutter before looking back to the wine list.

Being the ever polite person he is, Nick tries to engage Gavin in small talk. “So, that was some game the other night. You’ve really got a gift, man. I envy you.”

“It’s not a gift,” Gavin returns banally. “It takes serious concentration and skill.”

I can’t help but to roll my eyes at Gavin’s cold demeanor towards my dinner companion. Nick catches the expression and one corner of his mouth tips up in a knowing grin and I find myself beginning to relax, the familiar companionship of having Nick with me has almost a soothing effect. We try our best to ignore the man sitting beside us, getting lost in our own conversation, and it’s going well. That is, until Gavin opens that goddamned mouth of his again.

“You know, I’m surprised you didn’t mention your date this morning.”

“This morning?” Nick asks in confusion.

“Yes, we were having a picnic in the park.”

I shoot Gavin a look that I wish would kill him dead on the spot before looking back at Nick. “
I
was having a picnic with Page and Davies. Gavin decided to crash it all on his own.” I look back at the bastard, “And I
did
tell you. As a matter of fact, I’m pretty sure you gave me wardrobe advice.” I spin back to Nick and smiled sweetly. “His vote was the one that tipped the scales in favor of the backless dress.”

Nick laughs and reaches his hand out to Gavin. “Then I guess I should be thanking you. That dress is killer.”

Gavin doesn’t return the handshake, simply looking down at Nick’s hand like it’s diseased. I take his silence as the perfect opportunity to get another shot in. “Yeah, don’t the gays have the best fashion sense?”

A snicker bubbles up my throat at the sound of Gavin choking on the water he is drinking.

Current score is…

Nell: 1

Ass-face: 0

God, I love winning.

That is, until the dickhead opens his mouth again. “Oh, Miss Prescott, I forgot to tell you, I love your taste in underwear.” The wine I’d just sipped suddenly goes flying across the table, right onto Nick’s shirt.

“Oh, shit!” I shout, garnering unwanted attention from the people around us as I lean across the table and dab at the offending stain with my napkin. “I’m so sorry! I’ll pay for the dry cleaning.”

Nick clears his throat awkwardly. “He’s seen your underwear?”

“She looks fucking phenomenal in lace,” the bastard says. “And that thong…” he trails off with a moan, closing his eyes as he lifts his wine glass to his mouth and takes a sip.

“I feel like I’m missing something pretty serious here,” Nick mutters.

“Those damned uniform skirts,” I smile manically, still rubbing at the stain that seems to be growing larger. “Can’t bend over an inch without them showing everything.” I sit back in my chair and shoot Gavin a look that explains, in great detail, the way I’m planning to murder him. “Obviously, Mr. Saint lacks all gentlemanly decorum since he brought it up.”

Nick pushes his chair back and stands. I have a sudden wave of panic that he’s bailing on our date, leaving with his feelings hurt and me alone with Gavin. “Excuse me for just a minute,” he smiles politely. “I’m just going to go put some water on… this,” he waves at the front of his ruined shirt.

“Oh. Oh! Yeah, sure!” I answer, relieved he’s not bailing on me, although I know I’d deserve it. Once he’s gone, I turn to Gavin. “You’re Satan, you know that?” I hiss. “Fucking Satan!”

“I’d say I just made your date more interesting, Miss Prescott.”

Current score…

Nell: 1

Prince of Darkness: 1

The fucker.

***

Nick and I leave the restaurant an hour later. The meal was delicious—even though I’d never admit that to Page—and once Gavin left, the night had somehow managed to have been salvageable. We had a great time. That’s why, as we stand under the awning of the Red Room, Nick’s hands caressing my cheeks tenderly as he smiles down at me, I want to cry, because I feel nothing.

Zip. Zilch. Nada.

I hold my breath as his lips descend on mine, only releasing the warm gush of air when it becomes impossible. His lips are soft, his mouth tastes sweet, and as his tongue snakes in and tangles with mine, all I can think is that it’s a nice kiss.

Nice
.

That’s it. There’s nothing spectacular about it, not for lack of trying on either of our parts. We both have the mechanics of kissing down pat. We tilt our heads in just the right way, apply just the right amount of pressure being mindful of our teeth. But there’s something missing, something that really,
really
matters when you’re kissing someone.

And when Nick pulls back, it’s like a two-ton weight has been lifted off my chest, because if the look on his face is anything to go on, he felt it too. Or, I should say he
didn’t
feel it.

“Uh, wow… that was…” he pulls both his lips between his teeth and rubs them back at forth, as if trying to find the right words. Finally, he finishes with, “really awful.” I can’t help but to burst into laughter.

“Oh, God,” I croak past the hysterical laughs. “It was, wasn’t it?”

He’s smiling now and I’m hit with a wave of relief that, despite our epic lack of chemistry, we can walk away from tonight as really good friends. “I mean, no offense or anything. You didn’t do anything wrong, it was just like…”

“Kissing your sister?” I offer helpfully.

He curls his lips and says, “More like kissing my grandma.”

“Hey!” I shout, smacking him in the arm, playfully. “It wasn’t
that
bad.”

“True,” he grins. “At least your dentures were in.”

I lose it again, my sides aching as I bend to hold them. Once I have myself under control, I smile up at him. “Disastrous kiss aside, I had a great time with you tonight.”

“Me too.”

“I’d love to do it again. But, you know, platonically. And maybe at a bowling alley or something.”

“Sounds like a plan, gorgeous.” He opens his arms and I walk into them for a big bear hug, the kind I can only imagine a big brother would give. It’s nice, like a warm, soft blanket.

“I ruined your shirt, didn’t I?” I mumble into his chest.

“Oh yeah,” he laughs good-naturedly. “Ruined the hell out of it.”

“Sorry.”

“You know,” he starts once we’ve pulled apart, “I have to ask. What the hell is up with you and Saint?”

“Ugh,” I groan, my head falling back dramatically. “The guy’s an epic douche-bag. I’m pretty sure he lives to make my life a living hell. I’m guessing he showed up tonight just to sabotage our date and fuck with me.”

“You sure about that?” he asks, speculatively. “’Cause I gotta tell you, gorgeous. I’ve pulled shit like that before, and it wasn’t because I couldn’t stand the girl.”

There is no way I was confirming his suspicions. “Well, either way, I can’t stand the guy. He’s playing games and I don’t want to have any part of that.”

“I don’t know,” Nick smiles, rubbing his hands together in front of him like an evil genius. “Sometimes games can be a lot of fun.”

I take a step back at the dangerous gleam in his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“You say he likes to fuck with you, right? Piss you off?”

“Like it’s his purpose in life,” I respond dryly.

“Then let’s fuck with him right back. He doesn’t know our kiss was borderline incestuous because he already left. For all he knows, I’ve taken you back to my place and am buried balls deep at this very moment.”

I frown. “Thanks for the colorful imagery.”

“Any time,” he waves me off and continues, “What I’m saying is, let’s keep the fact that there’s no spark between just the two of us. The more you flirt and the more I grab your ass and tits—”

“Whoa! Who said anything about grabbing my ass and tits?”

Nick rolls his eyes. “Pretend you’re doing it for your country,” he sighs in exasperation. “Anyway, the more I feel you up and shit like that, I’m pretty sure we can make his head explode. What do you think?”

I scrunch my face and tilt my head, thinking hard before finally grinning ear from ear. “I think you’re the smartest man on the planet! I’m in! Let’s make Gavin Saint’s head explode.”

“Hey, gorgeous?”

“Yeah?”

“What
really
happened in that storage closet?” I glare at him and he gives me a cheeky smile in return. “He didn’t really see your thong just because you had a Britney Spears “Oops, I did it Again,” moment, did he?”

**GAVIN**

What the ever loving fuck!

How could that dick stick end up getting a good night kiss after that pathetic excuse of a date? He didn’t even wear a suit coat, for Christ’s sake. What kind of barbaric human goes to the Red Room wearing just a button up? And I can’t even think about how his shoes didn’t match his belt.

Shit. I rub my eye with my palm. Maybe I
am
gay.

Nah, fuck that. No fucking way, especially not after the way my pants grew tight in the crotch from seeing Penelope in that backless dress. Of course she wore it. I should have told her to wear the tits dress, I should have known she’d defy me. Too bad for her I’m not worried about it, because when I do get her up to my villa, she won’t have to wear clothes at all, not for what I have planned for her.

What are they doing? Just talking?
Dude, if that was me, I would have her hand in mine, dragging her up to my place, not standing on the sidewalk, talking to her in front of an Uber driver. Seriously, where is this guy’s game?

Like I should talk, I’m huddled in my Jag, scrunched against the window, trying to get a view of Penelope and her deplorable date. Yep, I’m
that
pathetic jackass. I try to convince myself I’m just making sure he doesn’t try to take advantage of her but I know that’s a lie. For some unknown reason, I need to see where this date goes, I need to have the last word with Penelope.

Leaning in, she presses her head against his chest, hugging him tightly. Anger and irritation twitch across my body from the intimate contact. It’s just a hug, but what seems innocent really isn’t in a guy’s eyes. A hug is a way to get a feel of a woman’s tits pressed against his chest, to soak in the intoxicating smell coming from their hair, to ever so slightly lower your hands down their back, almost caressing her ass. A hug is anything but innocent and by the way Nick has been grabby all night, I know the exact thoughts running through his mind and I don’t like it.

After what seems like hours but is in actuality only minutes, Nick releases her and helps her into the waiting car. Before I know what I’m doing, I pull out of my parking spot and I’m behind the Uber, following it all the way to her apartment.

I’ve had better nights, I’ll admit that. Nights where I don’t stalk women, crash their dates, and then follow them home, unseen… like a total creeper, but then again, I’ve never been this challenged before.

On the drive, I tell myself to turn around, to head back to my place, that what I’m doing is extremely unhealthy and borderline
Dexter
, but that doesn’t stop me. Do you know why? Because I have a massive dick sitting between my legs. Unlike an intelligent man with common sense, I listen to the little head poking at the zipper of my pants, telling me to get one more sniff of her perfume before I go home for the night.
Alone
.