“The last forty-eight hours have been nothing but frustrating,” Stella said, her hands going into her front pockets.
Wyatt’s eyes were drawn to the ribbon of skin that was exposed above her waistline from the action. He wanted to lick her flesh. To really have the opportunity to lay her down and kiss her from head to toe. That was frustrating. “You’ve had some satisfying moments in the last forty-eight hours, too.” He leaned forward and whispered, “You liked it when you came, didn’t you?”
He felt, rather than saw, her shiver. “That goes without saying.”
Wyatt took her hand in his and stroked the inside of her palm with his thumb. “We’re going to figure this out as quickly as possible so we can put all this behind us and get back to the bedroom.”
“You make it sound so simple.” She licked her lips in what was probably a nervous gesture, but it served to turn him on.
“It can be simple.” Now he found he wasn’t talking about just sex. But he also was a quick learner. He knew it was time to back off. He took a step back and gave her space. “Okay, so where is this place? Benny better have some information, that’s all I’m saying.”
“It’s in the eight hundred block of Bourbon. Let’s go before Saxon hurts himself.”
If Wyatt wanted to be responsible for a loyal and not-so-bright living creature, he’d get a dog. But he sighed and called to Saxon and Drake. “Yo, come on!”
Normally Drake was a little swifter, but the numbing medication seemed to have gotten to him. He was wandering as aimlessly behind them as Saxon was. Wyatt walked beside Stella and steeled himself to be annoyed by Benny all over again.
Nonetheless, he wasn’t quite prepared for the sight of Benny dancing on a bar in his infamous orange underwear, gyrating suggestively. Nor was he prepared to pay a five-dollar cover charge at the door.
“What the hell?” he said to Stella. “I’m annoyed on behalf of g*y men. Why do they have to pay a cover charge when no other bar on Bourbon charges one? That sucks. It might even be discrimination.”
“Maybe it’s because there’s entertainment.”
“Um, what are we? We’re not on that stage every night because we wandered up there by accident.”
Stella made a face. “You’re right. I don’t know. I guess they figure if they can get money they’ll charge it.”
“If someone hits on me, you have to pretend to be my girlfriend,” Drake said to Stella, his slur improved dramatically.
“No one is going to hit on any of you. Trust me.”
Should they be insulted? “And why is that, exactly?”
Wyatt crossed his arms over his chest and stood on the edge of the dance floor. The music wasn’t really that loud, because it wasn’t meant to be danced to. It was just setting a beat for the dancers on the bar and on the elevated stage while allowing customers to still talk. Benny had spotted Stella and had enthusiastically waved, but other than that they didn’t seem to be attracting any attention. Whenever a guy glanced their way, he quickly dismissed them.
Well. Apparently none of them were attractive to men. Wyatt was a little insulted.
“This is a sweeping generalization, but scruffy musicians seem to be something only women find hot,” Stella said.
“Scruffy? You think I’m scruffy?” Yeah. Insulted.
She rolled her eyes. “I mean longer hair.”
That didn’t soothe his feelings in any way. “Alright. Whatever. I see how it is.”
“I refuse to deal with any of your wounded egos tonight.” Stella moved away from him with a fair amount of attitude and sway in her hips.
Bewildered, he turned to Drake. “What the hell did I do?”
“You spoke. That’s what you did. Hey, uh, what’s going on with you and Stella?”
“Something’s going on with you and Stella?” Saxon asked. “Dude.”
“I don’t really know what’s going on with us. Maybe something. Maybe nothing.” Brooding, he stood with his legs apart, arms crossed, and watched Benny bend over and talk to Stella. Neither of them seemed concerned that they were interrupting his work, such as it was.
“What’s the deal with the guy? She have a thing for the priest?”
Wyatt glared at Drake. “No.” And he didn’t really appreciate having his secret fear pointed out—that she would find another man more to her liking.
Stella felt a sense of responsibility toward Benny, that’s all. She wasn’t attracted to him. But was she attracted to Wyatt? None of these guys here were. Maybe he wasn’t attractive.
And maybe he was a moron.
Her conversation with Benny was taking way longer than it should. Wyatt strode over to them.
“Hey, what’s going on?” He nodded to Benny.
Benny’s smile disappeared when he saw Wyatt. “Oh. Hey.”
“Everything taken care of?” he asked Stella.
“Yes. Benny said he’ll go get his phone for us to look at after this dance. He said he hasn’t looked at the pictures so he doesn’t know what, if anything, is on there.”
“Okay, cool. Thanks, man.”
“Anything for my Dark Angel.”
Oh, please.
Benny stood back up and went back to throwing his hips around. Dancing was a bit of an exaggeration in Wyatt’s opinion. Leaning against the bar, he studied Stella. “So what was all that conversation about, Dark Angel?”
It wasn’t the right thing to say. He knew it the second the words were out of his mouth. Her expression confirmed this. She looked like she wanted to hit him with her purse again.
“The jealousy thing? Not cool. Knock it off.”
He wanted to protest but he wasn’t sure there was much point. “Sorry. Do you want a drink?”
“I’d love a diet soda.”
Wyatt tried to flag the bartender down, but the guy ignored him. He wasn’t used to that. He knew half the bartenders in the Quarter and he always got good service. Being ignored yet again was not what he wanted when he was trying to be cool and smooth things over with Stella. Looking around, he realized most of the men in the bar were well-dressed and aloof. It seemed to be a theme. Maybe Wyatt needed to wave a twenty to the bartender and act pretentious to get service.
Saxon seemed to be having the same problem with the bartender. He made choking motions and said, “Dying. Of. Thirst.”
Which was, of course, ridiculous. Vampires weren’t going to die of anything and definitely not of human thirst. They didn’t need to drink liquids besides blood at all. Most of them did it as a habit more than anything else or used it as a mixer for blood.