Page 16 of When I Had You

Probably.

It felt like I had enough details to sort the situation out, and quickly.

My mistake.

As I stand outside at two in the morning taking photos with the bouncers, the hour justifies the means to get in, get out, and try to get some sleep while I still can. When the rope is finally lifted to let me into the South Beach nightclub, I think I should have gathered a few more facts before agreeing to rescue my bosses’ little sister from the bathroom inside.

Blue and pink lights flash into every corner of the two-story dance venue, including under the edges of the sunglasses I hope help to hide my identity. I cut through a sea of sweaty bodies dancing to endless beats that are supposed to resemble music. Although no one wants to hear a race car driver analyzing music tracks, I do have an affinity for great music, and this isn’t it.

I finally reach the hall and walk past what some might call lewd acts. I’m no saint to judge others. I’ve not always made the best decisions when a pretty woman offers the pleasure of her company, or mouth for that matter, on a drunken night out. It’s been longer than I care to recall since that happened. Italy, maybe Brazil. Too long. But when I’m off the track, I don’t get to be a priority. That’s the sacrifice I’ve made to put my son first.

I find the hallway that leads to the bathrooms. Two women’s bathrooms on the right and the exit to the alley farther up on the left. “Marina?” I call just outside the first bathroom. No answer. I repeat in front of the other door. When there’s still no reply, I pull my phone from my pocket and text:

I’m here.

Because I’m impatient as fuck—I’m a race car driver for a reason—I also knock on both doors and then stand back to see which one opens.

The door on the right opens enough for one narrowed and beautiful eye to see me before it widens. I come forward, but the door doesn’t budge. “You going to let me in?” She looks me up and down one more time before cracking a smile and stepping away for me to enter.

I walk in and lock the door behind me. “Get your stuff, and let’s go.”

Surprise shapes her face before she anchors her hands on her hips. “Just get your stuff, and let’s go? You’re not going to ask me why I called you?”

“You’re drunk and called the hottest guy you’ve ever met because you need to get laid?”

As tempting as her open and deliciously rounded mouth is, her eyes tell a different story. “Um, no.” She flips her hair over her shoulders, then raises her chin in the air like the very thought of being with me is offensive. “No. Liam Hemsworth didn’t answer.”

Removing the dagger from my ego, I ask, “You’ve met Liam Hemsworth?”

“It was one date before he met his current girlfriend.”

“He’s in a relationship? What happened with Miley?”

She smirks. “Why? Are you interested in him?”

“That’s a riot.”

Laughing, she snorts. “Riot. Ryatt. Like you.”

I side-eye her, not amused in the least. “I knew you knew my name.” Okay, fine. She’s sort of amusing and cute when she’s tipsy. Flirty.

This still isn’t my scene. Not anymore at least. I grab the doorknob, ready to bolt. “Can we please get the fuck out of here?”

“You’re not having fun?”

For a nightclub that appears to be popular by the size of the crowd outside this door, the corner of the mirror’s frame is rusting, the toilet roll is bare, and the lock is barely holding by how it rattles when someone checks to see if the bathroom is occupied. By how long she’s been in here, it’s a good thing other restrooms are available.

Spying her cracked phone on the edge of the sink, I slide it onto the counter to keep it secure. The screen lights up, so I guess it’s not as broken as she claimed. “How’d you get my number anyway?”

“I have my ways.”

“Mm-hmm.” I’ve never seen a more mischievous grin on someone than the one she’s sporting now. “Whatever, stalker.”

She reaches for her bag and pulls a tube out as if we have all damn night to hang out in here. Leaning against the sink, she drags a wand across her lips, leaving them shiny and capturing my full attention. Maybe I’m not in such a hurry after all.

Her lips were already appealing, but the way they shine for me, combined with that killer body, makes them so damn tempting to kiss just to find out if they taste as good as they look. My thoughts get away from me, imagining her bent over that sink with me taking her from behind with our eyes locked together in the mirror.

Fuck.

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