Page 63 of Can't Text This

Denny falls for his false charm in the blink of an eye. I know he just wants a good tip.

“I’ll take a shot of your top-shelf tequila and a vodka tonic.”

“Sure thing, babe.” He turns his attention to me. “And for you, Red?”

I cringe at the nickname. It’s so overused and so…typical.

“I’ll take an iced tea, please. Unsweet,” I think to add, nearly forgetting I’m in the south now and these restaurants constantly try to poison me with all that sugar.

Denver lets out an annoyed huff. “You’re not drinking?”

“After last time, no. Besides, one of us needs to stay sober.”

“You’re the DD? I dig that,” the waiter says with a grin. “I’ll be right back, ladies.”

“How?”

“Huh?”

“I said,how? How in the hell are we here for five freakin’ minutes and you already have the waiter drooling over you!”

“The shortness of my skirt,” I deadpan.

She laughs and flips her hair over her shoulder. “You look so sweet, but that tongue of yours can be so sharp, Monty. I love it.”

I wave a hand. “Trust me, he doesn’t care about me. He couldn’t take his eyes off your cleavage.”

“My, my—did you just say cleavage? I don’t think I’ve ever heard such a profane word leave your clean little mouth.”

“I can come up with a few profane words right now.”

She laughs my comment off because she knows it’s not true. “Come on, scan the room with me. Tell me who you’re calling dibs on.”

“Um, none of them?”

“No, none of that bullshit, Monty. We’re havingfun. You’re going to havefun.”

“I can have fun sitting at the table,” I argue. “I’m sure they’ll bring me some sweetener with my tea. I can count the packets.”

Denny fake yawns. “No. Not happening.”

A tall Latino man with the most interesting brown eyes I’ve ever seen struts up to the table. His hair is cut close to his scalp and his lips are full, kissable.

“I saw that.” He flashes a white smile at Denver. “There’s no yawning this early on a Saturday night. How about we get you on the dance floor, wake you up a bit?”

She purses her lips and looks him up and down. “Hmm…tell me your name first.”

“Right, of course.” He stretches his hand toward her. “I’m Jarred.”

“Jarred.” She tests his name on her lips. “I like that. I’m Denver. Show me your moves, Jarred.”

She places her hand in his outstretched one and he pulls her off the stool with little effort. As he leads her away, she grins back at me.

“You’re next!”

I shake my head vehemently and her loud cackle mixes with the music, fading away as she gets lost in the crowd.

The waiter arrives at the table holding our drinks and frowns when he sees Denny is missing.

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