Page 68 of Dr. Fellow

As I’m goading Cass into finishing her vodka soda, Beau comes up to us. Sweat beads on his wide forehead, and he looks exhausted as he holds Claire to his chest protectively. She’s clinging onto him with a sloppy smile on her lips, her eyes halfway closed.

“Gonna take her back,” he says, understanding the looks on our faces without us having to ask. “Fell on her ass during ‘You Belong With Me’ and almost took two people out with her.”

“Baby giraffe,” I state lovingly, referencing the drunk alter ego we gave Claire a few months ago.

He looks down at his girlfriend with adoration. “Baby giraffe.”

“Can you please check on Caroline before you go to bed?” Cass asks, finally finished with her drink.

The youngest Winters sibling started puking her guts up in the pool bathroom, so Cass and Parker took her back early while the rest of us enjoyed the party this afternoon. She was still curled around the toilet in our room when it came time to head to the show. I offered to stay with her, but she insisted that she had learned her lesson with sugary drinks and that I should go on without her.

Beau nods with a small laugh as he shifts to better support Claire’s weight.

“Yeah, of course. I’ll make sure she’s still breathing and not swimming in the toilet bowl.” He brushes a stray curl away from Claire’s face as she mutters something indecipherable, but probably affectionate, in her semi-conscious state.

Cassidy gives him a grateful look. “Thanks—let us know if she needs anything, okay?”

“Will do,” he replies, starting toward the exit. “Hey, y’all coming back soon? Or planning on staying out for a while longer?”

I glance at Cass since this is her night.

“We’re definitely staying,” she says confidently, grinning at me.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Beau calls over his shoulder.

A pair of lemon drop shots appear next to us, and I narrow my eyes on the bartender. She looks overworked, her dark hair slicked back with a mixture of sweat and product.

“From the guy next to you.” She gestures her head to the man beside me.

I step back and quickly assess the stranger. He’s the definition of a finance guy with a trust fund. In another life, I would have totally made out with him because he’s a solid six-five and has sparkling blue eyes. His friends are of a similar caliber, probably all hoping to get lucky tonight by buying women twenty dollar shots.

“You didn’t poison these, did you?” I ask suspiciously, taking the shots off the bar and sniffing them. “I’m small, but I can still kick your ass.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he smiles genuinely, the dimples of his clean-shaven cheeks popping.

I smile back before handing one to Cass. We tap the shots together, tossing them back with practiced ease.

“So, what’s the occasion?” I ask, setting my empty glass on the bar with a loud clink.

“Just out with the boys.” He gestures toward his group. They’re loudly cheering on a friend who’s chugging a pitcher of beer like he’s a frat bro in college. “Saw you two having a good time, and thought I’d add to it. No strings attached.”

The man introduces himself as Alex, and we shoot the shit for a while before his buddies drag him away. Surprisingly, he pulls out of their grasp briefly to jog back over and hand me his business card, asking that I call him.

I take it with a laugh, appreciating his effort.

Turning to Cass, I look down and read out loud. “Alexander Cooke, VP at Crosswood Capital Bank. New York, New York.”

I give myself a pat on the back because my initial assessment of him was spot on.

“You gonna call him?” Cass asks, handing me another drink.

I shrug, taking a sip of an incredibly strong margarita as I scan the crowd. The bar has gotten substantially busier as the night has worn on, but we somehow still have a line of sight with our table. Walker’s dark gaze finds mine, his eyes narrowing in agitation—either he’s tired of being here, or he just witnessed what happened.

“Want to tell me why Walker is staring at you like you’ve done something wrong?”

I squint at him, trying to decipher the expression on his unreadable face. His arms are crossed, and his posture is rigid. But there’s a flicker of a dare in his eyes, like he’s challenging me to keep it up and see what happens.

Turning back to Cass, I shake my head slightly. “I guess he didn’t appreciate the attention from Mr. Finance Bro.”

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