The bartender rolled her eyes, and I almost missed the nod she exchanged with the hot one as he walked back in, but it was there. Whatever.
I moved my body to the beat, letting it rule my movements and leaving everything else behind for a song, then two. My top drifted above my waistline as I raised my arms.
“Okay, Coyote Ugly, it’s time to get down.” Jagger’s voice made me giggle, and I looked down to see his half-amused face.
“What? It’s not like I haven’t seen you drunk on the bar a few times.”
“Which is why I’m not giving you shit, Sam.” He shook his head. “But I can’t say the same for Grayson.”
I stiffened like he’d tossed cold water over me. Grayson stood a few feet away, his thumbs tucked into his pockets and his face unreadable. I refused to be embarrassed…right?
“Let’s go,” Grayson snapped.
A sly smile spread across my face. “If you want me to go, come up here and get me.” There was no chance an uptight jerkface like him was going to do that. A muscle in his jaw ticked a second before he climbed up onto the barstool and then consumed the bar. He was huge. “Will this thing even support you?”
“Now.”
I moved back, but before I could take a step, he pulled me up against him and into his arms. “We’re not repeating this morning.” He jumped off the bar with me in his arms, barely jarring me as he landed on his feet.
“How King Kong of you.”
“I wasn’t the one climbing up there in the first place.” His grip tightened on me as he strode out the door into the evening air. “Thanks for calling us, Carter,” he tossed to the hot one. Well, next to Grayson, he was a pale second.
I bet everyone was a pale second against Grayson.
Jagger walked out behind us, my purse in hand, which he handed to Grayson. “What? Like I can’t handle my own purse?” I giggled.
“You’re not getting near your keys,” Grayson growled.
“I never said I was driving,” I argued, trying to wiggle against his iron grip. He glared down at me, his lips impossibly close.
His mouth opened like he wanted to say something, but thought better of it and snapped it shut. He unlocked my car, still carrying me, and then dumped me into my front passenger seat.
“She’s not usually like this,” Jagger said as Grayson shut my door. “You got her?”
I opened it back up in time to hear Grayson say, “Yeah, I didn’t think you’d want her puking in the truck.”
“Amen.”
“Stop talking like I’m not right here.”
“Trust me, we’re well aware that you’re here, princess,” Grayson snapped, promptly shutting the door in my face again.
He slid behind my wheel, cursing my height while the seat took precious seconds to move back to accommodate him.
“Maybe my car doesn’t like you, either,” I slurred.
His eyes cut toward me, and he shook his head but snapped his mouth shut as he turned the key.
“So stern.” I gave my best uptight-guy impression but blew it when I descended into snickering.
“God help me,” he muttered, putting my little Cabriolet into first gear and taking us out of the parking lot.
I let my head loll back against the seat and watched the muscle in his jaw tick. Everything about him, from his eyes to the cut of his jawline, was so severe. “You’re not going to give me crap?”
“Not my job to judge,” he replied, his eyes never wavering from the road.
“Not my circus, not my monkeys, that’s what my mom says,” I said louder than I intended, my finger poking him in the shoulder. Crud, when had my hand gotten over there? I pulled it back to my lap. If I sat perfectly still, maybe he wouldn’t realize how truly drunk I was.
“Something like that.” His dismissal, that flat tone, scraped me like no amount of lecturing could have.