M Is for Mister by Tara Hart

Author:Tara Hart [Hart, Tara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-10-05T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

I enter the bar as if I’m God. I’m not being arrogant, but chicks dig me.

Two girls are instantly at my side as soon as I make my way to the bar. I pull a seat between my legs and sit down.

I don’t give them the satisfaction of looking at them. I’m not interested in picking up. I just need alcohol and lots of it.

“Hey.” One of the girls trails her fingers over my bicep.

I’ll call her blondie because that’s all that I notice about her—she’s blonde. She waves at her friend who takes the hint and walks away.

“Didn’t your momma ever tell you it’s rude to ignore girls,” she puts on a southern accent.

I offer her a sideways glance. She looks cheap. Her face is plastered with makeup and she’s wearing a top that reveals too much cleavage. She should save some surprises for later.

I nod my head in her direction. “Hi.”

Her hand hangs on my shoulder loosely. I look into her eyes and notice her pupils are larger than a penny. She’s high.

I take her hand in mine and throw it away. “Don’t touch me.”

She pouts, sucking her lip into her mouth. “You don’t want to play?”

I ignore her question, throwing a note in the air to catch the barkeeps attention.

“I’ll have a scotch,” I say when he approaches. “Make it a double. And a water.”

He eyeballs the blonde that’s hanging off of me. I’d forgotten about her. I inhale and then regret it immediately. She reeks of cheap drug store perfume and desperation.

“Leave me alone, sweetheart,” I tell her roughly. “I’m not interested.”

The bartender puts the water in front of me. I take the glass and shove it into her hand. Some water splashes from the side and onto her hand.

“Drink this and go away.”

She licks the water from her hand and then takes a sip from the glass. I turn my back before she tries to strike up a conversation again. I don’t need the drama, not tonight.

I down the scotch in one long swallow, but it does little to slow my mind.

I tap the bar, signaling for another pour.

Swiveling on my stool, I watch the people filling into the dark, musty bar. It pales in comparison to one of my establishments and it’s definitely not the usual place I’d choose to hang out. Too dark and depressing for my taste, but it suits my mood tonight.

Selina got me all worked up last night and ever since, I haven’t been able to shake the thought of her crawling into bed with me. I thought it was Savannah, I hoped it was, and it bothered me how bitterly disappointed I felt when it wasn’t her in my bed. Selina touching me had me wired beyond belief.

Tonight I need an outlet—or something to dull the pain—before I explode.

“Your drink,” the bartender says as he points to the fresh glass he’s placed next to my elbow.

I nod, thanking him, before taking the drink in my hand and surveying the bar.

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