Page 45 of Big Daddy

Quincey doesn’t acknowledge me but rather steps into Luke’s face, saying, “Put your hands on someone else’s shoulders.”

With that, he grabs my wrist, hoisting me up to collect me in his arms, and curl me into his chest. As I begin hurling explanations at him, Big Daddy scoops up his tie then stomps us off through the grass, toward the parking lot.

I owe him no explanations as I’ve done nothing wrong, but I need him to know that I wasn’t here with Luke inthatway.

“Luke did it on the dance floor,” I tell Big Daddy, my voice weak and wobbly. Damn you, pop music round of trivia. He stops in his tracks, his eyes nearly silver in the moonlight.His cologne sweeps my senses, leaving me pulsing between my thighs. Drunk or not, Big Daddy still makes me a horn dog. “I was here for Luke. That’s what I call Luciano. It’s his nickname. Or I guess, Luke-name,” I ramble, trying again to make the distinction that Luciano and I are just friends and came here as such. My explanations, however, only serve to make him angrier.

The moon catches my interest and I follow it around the sky as Big Daddy curses beneath his breath, eventually placing me in the passenger seat of his SUV. When he’s buckled me up, he hovers over me, arm braced above the door, his dark eyes making my stomach twist.

“I’m too drunk for stomach flutters,” I tell him as my eyes close.

When I open them, I’m in his arms again, being carried through a cool, dark hallway. He lowers me down, laying me in a soft cloud. My head is spinning and all I want to do is let the clouds absorb my fatigue and worries.

Big Daddy turns on the sun, which turns out to just be a bright light. He hovers over me, grumpy but sexy hot. “Is Luciano a friend with benefits and a roommate?”

I blink a few times. “He’s a nice friend.”

Big Daddy scoffs. “Answer me before I assume the worst.”

“You already have,” I squeak through a hiccup. It’s now that I notice he’s still in his suit, the jacket gone but the tie and cufflinks still in place. “Fuck, you’re hot.”

He makes a noise of dissatisfaction beneath his breath like that statement angers him. “So, you sleep with guys that are nice or you sleep with guys who just happen to be in the same apartment?”

I wrinkle my nose. “No. I actually usually sleep with bad guys. That’s why I’m single. Bad guys don’t make good boyfriends.” After a hiccup, I try to explain. “I’m still waiting for a bad guy to fill my room with roses and tell me he loves me, thenfuck me senseless, but alas, bad guys don’t do flowers and good guys don’t fuck dirty.”

Big Daddy shakes his head. “Luciano,” he says, dragging his name out like it’s his alleged name, “was the exception?”

I blink again, confused. “Luciano,” I repeat his name the curious way he pronounced it, “is a friend. We aren’t more. He doesn’t put his penis inside me.” Acid stews inside me as I attempt to focus on Big Daddy’s face. I wish I wasn’t drunk. Remembering an angry Big Daddy would be excellent fingering material later.

He brings a hand to his forehead, scrubbing at it as he sighs. “You said he did it on the dance floor.”

I nod. “He did. With the blonde he was there to meet.” I flap my arms like a chicken. “I was a wingman. He has anxiety. What you saw was him trying to convince me to stay so he could grind her a little longer.”

Big Daddy’s eyes snap to mine. I’m drunk, but I know what I see in them.

Happiness. Happiness and hope.

“Jesus Christ,” he sighs, scrubbing at his chest with a closed fist. I point at his hand.

“You hit him.”

“He deserved it.”

I squint at him as the world around me slows, becoming groggier by the minute. “I just told you we aren’t like that.” My brain goes back to the fantasy of a room full of roses and a romantic admission. “I don’t want a room of flowers from Luciano. No, no, no,” I hiccup.

Big Daddy wastes no time answering. “He took you out in public, stuffed you full of cheap booze, then left you and, if I heard correctly, was going to deny you a ride back home.”

I shrug. “He was gonna give me a ride, he just wanted me to wait another hour or so.”

Big Daddy kneels, tugging off my sneakers. He moves my legs beneath the blankets and leaves the room, returning with water and Advil. “We’ll speak in the morning.”

As he’s walking out of the large, mostly white, mostly empty spare bedroom, I stop him. “Did you white knight me?” He turns to face me, his evening stubble longer, even sexier than I remember him earlier today. “You did. You rescued me. No room of roses but you white knighted me.”

He comes back to the bed, sealing his lips to my forehead, smoothing his hand through my tangled hair. “Go to sleep. That’s what you need now.”

“You know what’s good for me, huh?”

A groan rumbles around his chest. “Just sleep it off. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

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