Page 29 of Grudge Puck
Camille
It's not exactly easy to find a vacant taxi on a Friday night in New York City.Thankfully, there's a certain glamour to a 6'3 muscle-bound athlete dressed in a sharp suit, with a girl slung over his shoulder like an action-hero from a movie.
Go ahead, ask me how I know.
The second Beau picked Piper up, as if she weighed nothing, and threw her over his broad shoulders …? I couldn't hope to explain it—but flares of jealousy exploded in my heart, and my insides twisted and throbbed with a pathetic yearning.
But it was a relief to know the taxi drivers of New York felt the same way as I did. Because once Beau stepped to the curb, and his long arm rose straight into the air to hail a car, the traffic immediately parted. And not one, not two, but three cabs all veered over to the curb and pulled up alongside Beau.
He turned to me with the breezy, charming smile that said it all.
Amazing. Amazing, isn't it, how life just works in magical ways for one Beau Bradford. You could hate him for that if you wanted. Lord knows, that was how I'd spent my whole life up until now. But once you spent some time with him, you had to admit—he truly had a charm. And it was nice when he used that charm for the powers of good rather than bad.
We climbed into the first cab. Beau gently set Piper down in one side. I slid into the middle seat, and Beau climbed in last. I gave the cabbie the address, and we took off for Piper's place on the Upper East Side.
Beau reached into his pocket and passed me his cell phone. “Here.”
“What's this for?” I asked.
“Put your number in,” he demanded.
I laughed. “Why?”
“So I can send you the selfie,” he said.
I started tapping in my number.
“Is thatallyou want my number for?” It was my voice, plain as day. But I couldn't believe those words had come out of my mouth—and sounding so sultry and playful to boot.
Was Iseriouslyflirting with Beau Bradford? I mean, God, I know I was drunk … but …ugh.
Beau smiled. “Maybe not.”
I handed him his phone back. “Well, I don't want any dick pics, FYI. So if that's what you're thinking, you can just stop. If you send me any, you're dead.”
Beau laughed. “Really? After I go out of my way to try to be a nice guy and help you and your friend out? I think I have the right to send you at least one dick pic.”
He was only joking.
I let out a groan that was only for show. “Fine. One dick pic, but that's all.”
I was only joking, too.
“But for real, Beau, I owe you. Thanks again. Really.” I set my head against his round shoulder. Normally I wouldn't. But I owed him my gratitude. And I was drunk.
Andoh hell, I can admit it, it felt nice. All that hulking muscle made for a fantastic pillow. No wonder Piper had passed out on Beau's teammate.
“You're welcome,” Beau said. “To show you what a nice guy I am, I'll even forget how you said I couldn't do anything sweet if my life depended on it.”
I giggled. “Stop it.”
Beau put his arm around me. Again.
And, for some reason, I put my hand on his thigh again, just like I had in the club. I guess because his thigh was there for the taking.
And because I want to touch him, damn it.
Under my palm, I could feel the deep ridges of his hard, muscular thighs. It was a dangerous texture: one that tempted you to run the tips of your fingers over his trousers, visually mapping out the peaks and valleys of his impressively carved thighs.
