I grit my teeth. “I remember.”
“You didn’t return my calls.”
I’d told him I didn’t want his number and I didn’t give him mine. He must have gotten it from someone else.
“I had hoped to hear from you,” he goes on to say. He jostles me in his arms like he’s hoping to provoke a response.
“I’m not looking for a relationship,” I say gently. Then I steel my shoulders and look into his eyes. “And you’re not really my type.”
He flinches. “I was your type when I was fucking you.”
I shake my head. “Not really. You were just there.”
He stops swaying to the rhythm of the band. “I was an easy fuck?” His voice pitches on the end of his comment, and people turn to look at us.
It really wasn’t that easy, because I had to pretend I liked him while I taught him how to navigate the nether-regions. I don’t think he knew what a clit was before that night. “You’re welcome,” I say flippantly.
He steps back and snorts out a crazy sound. It’s not a laugh, and it reminds me of a camel I petted once at the zoo. If he spits at me too…
“Seriously?” he says, his voice getting louder. “You used me?”
“You’re welcome?” I say again, but this time I end it in a question.
Hey, I know some guys are happy to get to bag a Zero. This guy apparently is looking for more than one night with the band’s bass guitarist.
“You’re pretty fucked up. You know that?”
Tell me something I don’t know. I grin at him. “Thanks.” I like my fucked-up life. I don’t particularly need for him to like it too.
“Everything okay?” a deep voice asks from over my shoulder.
I turn and find Tag standing behind me. He must have been dancing with Lark because she’s fidgeting right beside him.
“You okay, Finny?” Lark asks.
“How does it feel knowing what a whore she is?” the guy bites out. He smirks. “Or are you just next in line?” he asks Tag.
Tag stiffens, and I think he’s going to question me about this guy. But he doesn’t. All of his attention is on the douchebag. “Have a little respect, man,” he says quietly. I watch his hands as he flexes them, balling and releasing his fists.
“Fuck respect,” the douchebag snaps.
Tag adjusts his suit coat. “I’d appreciate it if you’d watch your language. There’s no need for profanity.”
“Fuck your prof–” He stops talking. Mainly because Tag just punched him on the jaw. His head snaps back and he flinches. It happened so fast that I didn’t even see it. I just see his reaction.
“I said watch your language around the ladies.” Tag scratches the stubble on his chin.
“Lady? Lady my a–” Again his head snaps back. This time he starts to bleed, his nose dripping blood down over his lips.
Tag reaches into his pocket for a handkerchief and jams it under the man’s nose. “You need some help finding the exit?” he asks quietly, leaning toward him.
The douche shakes his head. “No,” he mumbles, but it’s nasally.
“You should apologize to the lady,” Tag says. He steps back so the guy can face me.
I hold up my hands to wave the apology off. “That’s really not necess–”
“Yes, it is,” Tag bites out. He lifts a brow in the man’s direction.
“Sorry,” the man murmurs around his handkerchief.
“Sorry for…” Tag waits with an expectant look.
He looks up at Tag with a question in his gaze. He has no idea what he’s supposed to be sorry for.
Tag rolls his hand in the air. “Sorry for offending the lady…” He waits expectantly.
“I’m sorry I offended you.”
Tag smiles and claps him on the shoulder. “Have a good night,” he says.
The man walks away. I see the Reeds meet him at the edge of the dance floor to escort him to the exit. Now I remember how they know him. He’s a client of theirs. Oops.
I look up and realize that everyone on the dance floor is watching us. The band starts to play again. Tag holds a hand out to me. “Do me the honor?” he says.
“Close your mouth,” Lark whispers fiercely. I clamp my jaw shut. She puts a hand in the center of my back and pushes me toward Tag. I stumble into him and he puts a hand on my hip. He takes my other hand in his and starts to lead me in a dance. Lark goes willingly with someone else to dance.
He bends down to look into my eyes. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” Aside from the fact that I can’t breathe. The only man who has ever taken up for me like that is Emilio, my adoptive father. He would go to the ends of the earth, but he’s the only man who ever has. “Why did you do that?” I ask.
“Do what?” He looks down at me. It’s odd, how much of his attention I have. Almost disconcerting.
“Why did you hit him?”
His broad shoulders shift in a tiny shrug. “He was being rude.”
“Because he called me a whore?”
He winces and I know I struck a nerve. “His language was inappropriate. I just helped him realize it.”
“So someone referring to me as a whore offends you?” I bite back my grin when I see him flinch again.
“It wasn’t necessary to get his point across.” He spins me away from him and then brings me back to him. The man has some serious moves, that’s for sure.