Page 15 of Dirty Grovel

While he’s busy, I stuff my face with chicken and fries and scan the crowd. I can no longer see the cop from before.

Maybe he was just making the rounds.

There’s no way that Oleg would send out an army of cops for me… right?

Then again, I have no idea what Oleg is capable of anymore.

I scarf down more fries, reveling in their glorious greasiness. The burn in my stomach has ebbed.

I’m actually starting to feel a little bit like I might be able to get away with this—and in a bikini, no less.

Then I feel a tap on my shoulder.

I stiffen instantly, my body going ramrod straight as my instincts start pinging with warning signals.

It’s Oleg.

He’s found me.

I’m—

But when I turn, it’s not Oleg at all.

I’m face to face with a blonde man wearing a silk Hawaiian shirt unbuttoned to reveal a hairy chest. His eyes aren’t focused, but he’s wearing a huge, sloppy grin as he leans across the counter as though he’s counting on it to hold him up.

“Hey, there,” he purrs at me.

His breath hits me in the face like a freight train.

Tequila. Lots of tequila.

Maybe that’s why he’s forgotten to button up his shirt.

“Uh, hi,” I answer back as unenthusiastically as I can manage without being outright rude.

“You’re gorgeous,” he remarks, leaning in so far that his breath slaps me in the face yet again. “Let me buy you a drink?”

“Thanks, that’s nice of you, but I’ve already got myself a drink,” I gesture over to the bartender, who’s busy mixing in mint leaves and giving Mr. Frat Boy the stink eye.

“Forget that guy. I’ll get you another one then,” he insists.

I wipe my greasy hands on my thighs. “That’s really not?—”

“Take the freaking hint, Joel,” another guy declares loudly as he bumps right into Frat Boy. “She’s not interested.” New Guy flashes me a creepy grin. “Maybe she’s after something a little dark and dangerous… like me.”

Oh, boy.

I glance at the bartender, who’s rolling his eyes in their direction.

“I don’t think the lady’s interested in either one of you morons,” he declares. “Why don’t you two let her finish her drink in peace?”

Mr. Dark & Dangerous scoffs. “Dude, why don’t you go back to mixing drinks? We’re talking here.”

The bartender’s stare sharpens. Mr. Dark & Dangerous pulls himself up to his full height.

Frat Boy pushes himself off the bar counter.

There’s enough testosterone in here to suffocate a moose.

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