Page 79 of A Lucky Shot

Do you know where Cass is tonight?

Yeah, why?

Because she got stood up

Dammit

Architect Leo

Piece of shit

He wasn’t sure if Libby was calling the architect a piece of shit for standing Cass up, or him for matching them for the date. Both were probably true.

I’ll make sure she gets home safe if you can let me know where she is

I’ll come with

I’ve got her

A pin to a nearby address landed in his messages, followed by a demand to keep her posted a second later. Josh shrugged into his jacket and braced himself for the cold.

Fucking fuck. He should have unmatched the architect, too.

The cocktail bar looked like it had been edgy thirty years ago. It glittered with dated chrome fixtures, faux wood panelling, and the brittle chatter of middle-aged divorcees desperate for a hookup. Canned hotel jazz wafted out of hidden speakers, the entire ambiance aggressively trying to convince patrons it was cool and that there was no need to leave in search of a trendier location. By the scant number occupying tables, patrons had either gaslit themselves into buying the vibe of the bar, or already gone home, either with a conquest or solo.

Josh’s eyes scraped over to where Cass teetered on a bar stool, its scooped back the only thing preventing her from toppling over. A middle-aged man in a well-cut suit sat on the stool beside her, his hand resting on the back of her chair and shoving a drink toward her.

Asshole. Trying to take advantage of a drunk woman. Called it. Josh cut into the narrow space between Cass’s stool and the guy leaning into her.

“She doesn’t want to talk to you,” Josh said, yanking the dude’s chair back so that he stumbled onto his loafers.

“Whoa, friend.” The shorter man tugged the lapels of his jacket straight. “Are you Josh?”

“I’m her boyfriend, shitknob.” He stepped in, putting his body between them. Just to drive the point home, he reached his arm around Cass’s sloping shoulders. “Now, fuck off.”

Cass looked up for the first time with bleary eyes. “Oh, Josh!” Even through her slurring, her wine-stained mouth stretched into a soft smile, and the way she said his name, with comfort and trust, sent a rush through his stomach.

A sliver of his worry eased. If she was still smiling, she might not be so drunk that she would turn into a weepy mess. He hoped.

Cass leaned into him, and he refocused his attention on staring down the suit and away from the curve of her breast grazing his torso.

“Thought I was going to be alone tonight,” she hummed against his arm.

“Not if you don’t want to be.” Josh slid onto the bar stool beside her, rubbing a hand down her back and continuing to glare at the unwelcome interloper. “Sorry I’m late, beautiful.”

“This is my friend Omar. He said he’d …” Cass blinked at him. “Where’d your date go?”

“He left,” Omar replied. “You’re better company, anyway.”

Well, shit. This Omar guy comforted her while she cried into her mojito, and his date ditched him for doing a good deed.

Apparently wankers bailing on people was the theme of the night.

Josh gritted his teeth. “I’m sorry I told you to fuck off.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, getting up to leave. “Can you get her home? And try to get her to drink a glass of water.”

Cass gave Omar a series of sloppy hugs with demands to hang out soon, before he could finally break free. She turned back to Josh, elbow propped on the sticky bar. “What are you doing here?”

---