Page 118 of Playing A Risk
“I know. That’s why I went to fix things with her.” Melanie growls under her breath. “It should be Dori apologizing. You know that, right?”
I sigh. “I do, but she doesn’t think straight when she’s hurting.”
“That’s why I tried to make amends. Anyway, keep me posted and I’ll do the same for you.”
“Deal.”
We hang up and I leave my packing for another day. I get ready to go find Dori, but I have no idea where to look.
My anxiety simmers below my skin. As I get out of my building, it hits me. I was doing this same thing just a few weeks ago. I growl and march down the street.
Fucking hell, she pisses me off.
When will she learn this behavior makes the situation ten times worse?
I check every place that’s open this late and near her loft. Of course, it’s the last dive I come to where I find her.
She’s sitting at the bar and a group of guys surround her. I almost miss her, but she laughs as I walk behind her. The sound is unmistakable. I squeeze past two guys and tap her on the shoulder.
To avoid yelling over the crowd, I place my mouth near her ear. “Hey, can I have a minute of your time?”
She turns and glances my way, her eyes glossy and barely able to focus on me. She’s trashed, so this interaction has the potential to go very poorly.
Even though I’m pissed, my heart hurts to see her like this. It can only mean one thing. She’s avoiding her feelings.
“Well, look who’s here. What brings you out today…tonight? Wait. What time is it? It could be the morning.” She laughs and tosses her head back, allowing her long ponytail to hang over the back of her stool.
“Hey, Dori. It’s getting late. Can I walk you home?” I give one of the guys sitting on the other side of her adon’t fuck with melook.
Thankfully, the guys step farther away. They’re still lingering but giving me space to talk to her.
“Pfftt…home, no.” She taps the counter to get the bartender’s attention. “Stan, the man. How about we do another shot?”
I stand behind her and gesture over her head, slicing my hand in the air across my neck, telling him to cut her off.
He glances at her and juts his chin. “Sorry, pretty lady, but I can’t serve you anymore. You’ve hit your limit.”
The three guys still standing on the other side of her groan and start arguing for her. Stan, the man, holds his ground.
I whip out my credit card and hand it to him over her head. He reaches for it and her drunken gaze follows his movement. She leans so far back that her stool starts to tip over.
I grab her waist right as her chair hits the point of no return and slams against the floor. She twists to face me. She tries to focus on me as she runs her hands up and down my forearms.
“Thanks, big guy.” Her unfocused eyes come to mine. “That’s whatshecalls you. Big guy.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I lie to avoid the shit show that’s about to happen if I don’t. “Have you eaten?”
She sways in my arms. “You’re leaving me again. Always the same old story.”
Jesus, this is going to be a long night.
I glance at the men sitting with her. “Any chance you three noticed if she ate?”
“No, man. As far as I know, her dinner was a beer.” The oldest-looking of them shrugs.
“Jamison…Stone. Don’t you know there’s a sandwich in every beer, so I had two.” She hiccups. “And I don’t normally drink beer, so I’m super good.”
“That’s great to hear, but how about we get a pizza? I’m hungry and could use the company.” I take my credit card back from Stan and throw some cash on the bar for his tip.
