****
Rae tried to make out the click of her swizzle stick against her glass amid the chatter in the bar. She stared at the milky brown drink swirling around ice. What was she doing there?
Someone slid into the seat next to her. The smell of cologne mixed with the alcohol on his breath was so strong she almost gagged. He loosened his tie and undid the top button on his shirt.
Rae tried to decide if he was cute. It was hard to tell. He didn’t stand out from any other twenty-somethings in the bar—he was trying too hard to prove he was someone.
He looked in her direction, and she turned her attention to her drink.
He leaned closer, his breathy question making her eyes water. “Hey, beautiful. Is it true chubby girls try harder in bed?”
She fiddled with the edge of her shirt and moved to a different stool, not bothering to answer. It had taken a long time to get over the image issues she’d had as a teenager. Several of which stemmed from the fact Zach had only dated thin girls before her. She wasn’t overweight—but she’d never had the narrow waist and slim figure that would lead anyone to mistake her for a supermodel. That didn’t mean comments about her lack of Photoshop physique hurt any less.
A series of basketball games blared in the background, overlapping each other and clashing with the chatter. A voice whispered in the back of her head that if she wanted to take her mind off Zach, a sports bar filled with young businessmen just like him, but slimier, probably wasn’t the way to do it.
She had the same thought two hours earlier, but had hoped the alcohol would make it better. Now she was just drunk enough to realize she wasn’t in the mood for a cheap standin.
“What's your poison, hot stuff?” The stranger’s alcohol-laden breath landed on her cheek, and he wrapped an arm around her waist.
A chill crawled under her skin. She jerked away from the grabby douche. “Nothing you can afford.”
“Like you’re going to find a better offer.”
A hand rested at the small of her back. “She said she’s not interested.” Zach’s familiar voice erased the cold roaring through her.
Her heart stuttered to a stall and then sped up tenfold. What was he doing there? And what would it take to keep his hand there a little longer?
Drunk Douche appraised Zach. “Not in you.”
“Maybe not.” Zach’s arm brushed her spine. “But at least I can take no for an answer.”
Rae watched the scene unfold, horror tingeing her fascination. Her skull winced in protest, or maybe it was the three white Russians reminding her she hadn’t eaten that night.
“Slut.” Drunk Douche stumbled into the bar stool in his haste to get away.
It was tempting to let Zach go after Drunk Douche, but Rae forced herself to put a restraining hand on his arm. She wasn’t some princess who needed a knight in shining armor, but knowing that didn’t stop the unexpected rescue from warming her. “He’s not worth it.”
When he whirled back to face her, his snarl morphed into a soft smile. He dropped into the stool next to her. “At least let me pick up your tab.”
He was being sweet. What did he want? She hated the thought, but couldn’t get rid of it. She also wanted his hand on her back again. Wanted to lean against his shoulder and forget putting him behind her was part of the reason she’d been drinking.
She shook her head but stopped when the room tilted at strange angles. “Already covered, but thank you.”
He moved her drink away from her. “You look wobbly.”
“Only a little.” She needed him closer again, so she could lean on him. No, she didn’t. She was fine. “Maybe it’s time to call it a night.”
She hopped off the stool. Her heel hooked on a rung, and she stumbled, destroying her attempt at a cool getaway.
Zach caught her, one hand on her shoulder, and the other on her hip to help her stand again.
A whisper of his aftershave washed over her, and she swallowed. Damn it, she didn't need him there. A taunting voice in the back of her mind pointed out he was probably here to pick up a girl. Though her intent was similar, the realization drove home how one-time last night had been. She hurried to right herself, and almost fell backward again in the process.
He studied her for a minute, concern heavy in his eyes. “You're calling a cab, right?”
“No.” She wasn't that drunk. “I need my car… Because reasons.” Which really, she didn’t. The rental could stay in the lot until tomorrow, and she wouldn’t miss it. Stubbornness kept her from admitting it.
When she wobbled again he grabbed her car keys and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Can I give you a ride home, m'lady?”
That felt good. Her entire body tilted toward the contact. She frowned and straightened. How had she been jostled into this? “I'm fine, thanks.” She reached for her keys but lost her footing when he yanked them out of reach.