Page 16 of Hot Shot

“Nice to meet you,” I say to the woman, smiling.

“Likewise.” Her eyebrows lift and I feel the flirty admiration.

“We were just leaving,” I inform the pair.

“We were?” Carrie purses her lips.

“We were.”

Chase tilts his head. “Carrie doesn’t seem so sure about that. You sober, hon?”

Carrie sighs and let go of Chase’s arm. “No, I’m not sober. But I’m not that drunk.” She faces me. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Triumph swells in my chest. Right fucking on. I grin at Chase and Chantal. “Nice meeting you. And don’t worry. Carrie’s safe with me.” I slide my arm around her waist.

“I’m not so sure of that,” Carrie mutters. “Where’s Olympia?”

Chase gestures across the dance floor.

“Be right back.” She slips out of my grasp and weaves her way between gyrating bodies over to her friend. She’s back in only a few seconds, which is good because Chase is still giving me stink eye. “Okay. Bye, guys. See you next week for the West Coast Mall shoot.”

“Bye, Carrie. And Marco.”

“How did you get here?” I ask as we leave the club.

“Uber.”

“Perfect. I’ll drive you home.” I feel her shiver beside me and reach for her hand. “Are you cold?”

“No.” It’s a temperate summer evening, with clear skies and barely any cooling breeze.

We walk down the sidewalk and I direct her around the corner onto the side street where I parked my Jeep. I help her in, unable to keep myself from watching as her short skirt rides even higher on toned thighs, nearly giving him a glimpse of panties. Jesus.

Starting the engine, I ask, “Where do you live?”

She gives me her address and brief directions. “Huh.” I pull away from the curb. “Not far from Conquistadors. And not far from my place near the beach.”

“Where do you live?”

“I have a little house in Bay Park. It’s old and . . . I guess you’d say quaint. But I like living near the water and there’s a garage where I do my welding.”

“Your what?”

“Welding.” I shrug. “When I joined the Navy I decided to become a welder. I spent a few years learning my trade while learning to dive so I could become an underwater welder. Now I’m out, and I discovered I miss it, so I started creating these metal sculptures.”

She gapes at me. “Sculptures?”

“Yeah.” I slide a glance sideways at her. “They’re just kind of funky shit. I don’t really know what I’m doing, but people seem to like them.”

She shakes her head. “That’s . . .”

“What?” I try not to sound defensive. “It’s just something that keeps me busy when I’m not working at the bar.”

“I wasn’t being critical. I think that’s cool.”

Oh yeah . . . she’s into photography. That’s why she’s going to Spain. So maybe she gets the creative impulses that led me to my crazy sculptures.

“Would you like to come see my sculptures?” I ask.

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