Savor You (Page 39)

My gaze wanders over in the general direction, and I spot the blonde woman holding her phone up high, recording the show. She’s with some man, and every few seconds she glances up at him and says something. I work my lip between my teeth, trying desperately to remember where I’ve seen the guy before. When it doesn’t come to me, I focus my attention on the music.

The band is halfway through a song they didn’t play in Houston when I feel a hand touch my ass. It’s not a brush or an innocent jab but a squeeze. Gripping my drink tightly, I count to three before I turn to face the guy who’s feeling me up.

If I were into backwards-baseball-cap-wearing douchebags who’ve had too much to drink, I might consider him decent-looking enough. Since I’m not, I tilt my head to the side. “I don’t like being touched,” I say loud enough to be heard by several people around us.

He grins down at me. At first, he doesn’t make a move to take his hand away, but then the guy with him says something in his ear. He shoots his buddy a sharp look as he drops his hand to his side.

“You’re empty.” He tries to take the clear plastic away from me, but I tighten my grip around it. “Hey, I just want to buy you a drink,” he says defensively.

“Thanks, but I’m DD,” I lie. I glance over at Heidi who’s already jerking her head in the opposite direction. I turn to follow her, but the guy grabs my wrist. When I confront him this time, I ditch the smile. “Get your hand off me.”

“I’m trying to be nice to you.”

I shoot a look at his friend, whose face is slowly turning red. “You should probably take him on home.” To the drunken idiot, I jerk my arm away from his grip. It hurts like hell, but I keep the expression on my face badass. “You can be nice by f**king off.”

Heidi practically wrenches me to her so we can get out of this situation, but when the guy grabs me again, I turn around and slam my fist into the first thing I see, his stomach. He doubles over, wheezing. As I open and close my fist by my side, I instantly regret hitting him.

I should have gone for his balls.

“You f**king bitch,” he growls, and his friend instantly steps in.

“Dude, Dillon, leave her alone. She said—”

Dillon shrugs the other man off of him. He’s about to say something to me, maybe even try to touch me again, but then two hands clasp his shoulders, spinning him around. I’m just now aware that the sound of the bass guitar is nowhere to be heard as I take in Wyatt standing inches away from me, all of his features drawn into tight lines.

I’m also aware of how quiet the crowd seems, despite the fact the rest of the band is going on with the show.

“You want to put your hands on someone?” Wyatt asks Dillon, leaning close to him. “Try me, motherfucker.” Over his shoulder, I spot a big bear of a man—Security—stalking toward them.

“And I think I just wet myself,” Heidi hisses into my ear, holding on to my forearm.

“Well?” Wyatt challenges Dillon, and the other guy flips him the bird. I hold my breath, hoping McCrae’s smart enough not to fly off the handle. Glancing at me for a second, he tells Dillon, “Yeah, f**k you, too.”

My heart is beating so hard I swear it’s louder than Ben’s drums as Wyatt starts toward me, wearing an apologetic smile. Because Heidi chooses the exact moment to say something right into my ear, I don’t hear everything Dillon says next but I hear enough.

Groupie slut.

Wyatt whirls on him, but Dillon is lucky because the bouncer wedges himself between them, breaking up what’s bound to be a night in jail for Wyatt and a lawsuit.

“Show’s over,” Wyatt growls the moment he reaches my side. He pulls me to him, crushing my body against his, but I shake my head.

“Absolutely not, McCrae.”

The band finishes up the song they’re currently playing and Nate leans into the microphone, announcing that they’re taking a fifteen-minute break before starting the next set.

Wyatt cocks an eyebrow mockingly. “Show’s over for fifteen minutes then.”

I feel multiple sets of eyes burning into us as Heidi and I follow close behind Wyatt to the bar manager’s office. Cal and the Hazard Anthem boys are already inside the room. Heidi plops down in the chair behind the giant U-shaped desk, exhaling and inhaling a few times.

She glances around to each face, including mine. “Remind me why I go to bars again?”

“Well, that was f**king interesting,” Ben comments, scratching the tip of one of his drumsticks against his shaved head. He winks at me. “I think you could’ve taken that shithead down, but I can’t say I wasn’t happy to see McCrae jump off that stage.”

Wyatt grins, but I can tell he’s still angry. It’s in his blue eyes and the way he keeps clenching and unclenching his fists. “A hundred bucks says the only thing Kylie was thinking about is bailing me out tonight.”

I jerk my head from side to side, but it’s mostly because I’m a shaky mess right now. “Please, I don’t even have a debit card.” He rolls his eyes, and I add, “But if you’ve got to know, I was thinking of the lawsuits.”

“You ever stop working?” Cal chimes in, and I shake my head at him as he backs up toward the door to the office. He makes a face then glances behind the desk to my best friend. “Hey Heidi?”

She leans forward. “Yes, douchebag?”

He grins. “You and me. Shots before we go back on?”

She’s already on her feet, heading toward the door. She gazes back at me, widening her eyes like she still can’t believe what just happened. Hell, neither can I. “You’re buying. You know this, right?” I hear her ask Cal.