Page 38 of Rhett Redeemed
Sitting at the bar, I close my eyes and take a deep breath, silently praying for a break. What are the chances that Con would come to Toxic on the same night as me? The world is playing with me, and someone is having a big fucking laugh right now at my expense. There was the emotional conversation I had with Cara yesterday, and tonight I run into Con.
She’s the biggest temptation, in her little black dress and the red lipstick that drives me insane. Why can’t I be with her again? Cara did give me her approval, but it still feels...wrong. But when I saw her talking to another man, I felt my blood boil, and I had to stop myself from making an even bigger scene. Which isn’t fair to her, I know, but I can’t help how I feel.
It’s all messed up, and I don’t know how to handle this situation. Con obviously knows where she stands; she won’t even let me touch her tonight. She is choosing Cara, which is ironic because I couldn’t. I chose the club.
Now she’s back at her table, laughing and drinking with her friends while I’m sitting at the bar, scowling and watching her every move, wondering how the hell I’m supposed to just walk away from her tonight. I watch as one of the strippers, Cherry, pulls Con onstage and starts to dance with her. I glance around and look out as the other men watch Con dancing to “Pony” by Ginuwine, and grit my teeth, jealous that others are getting to see her this way. This should have been a private show for me and me only, yet all the men here are going to go home and jack off to Con.
Nope.
When she lifts herself up on the pole and starts to spin around, her dress riding up and showing off the edge of her panties, I’ve had enough. I walk over, trying to contain my anger, and simply carry her off the stage and into one of the empty private rooms.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I ask, placing her down on the seat and watching as she scrambles to cover her ass with the material of her dress.
“What am I doing? What do you think you’re doing?” she replies, standing up and pushing against my chest. I don’t move. Which makes her angrier. “I can do whatever I want, Rhett. Don’t try to control me.”
“You don’t care if your dress was riding up to your neck and all the pervy men in the club can see that?” I probe, shaking my head. “You’ve had too much to drink, Con. You should just go home. Come on, I’ll take you there now.”
“I’ll go home when I’m ready to go home,” she declares, lifting her chin. “And I’ll get right back on that stage and continue to have a fun night. You should go and do the same.”
“Yeah, fine. Go back up there. Like mother like daughter, right?”
She stills, gasps and then slaps me across the face before walking out.
I touch my cheek, gritting my teeth.
Yeah, I deserved that one. I shouldn’t have said that, it wasn’t fair.
I wait a few seconds and then go after her. I’m playing with fire right now, but I at least want to make sure that she gets home safe. If I dropped her home I would simply get her tucked safely in bed with some water and painkillers and leave.
When I go and look for her, she’s not back at the booth, though, or at the bar.
“She left,” Jamie says, narrowing her eyes at me. “Don’t you hurt her any more than you already have.”
“I’m trying,” I mutter under my breath as I walk outside, looking around until I spot her across the road, on her phone, probably trying to call a car. She’s taken her shoes off and is holding them in her arms. I think that’s the universal sign for when a woman is good and ready to go home.
I quickly cross and almost laugh at her expression when she sees me. Yeah, she’s pissed.
In more ways than one.
“Come on, I’m taking you home,” I say, pointing to my car. Luckily I didn’t bring the bike tonight because I had to bring in some alcohol for the bar. I step closer to her. “And I’m sorry for what I said back there. I didn’t mean it. I’m an asshole and seeing another guy with you made me mad. But let me at least get you home safely, all right?”
She sighs. “Fine.”
Relief fills me, and we both walk to my car side by side, her shoes dangling from her fingers. I open the passenger door for her and she slides in, sitting there with her arms crossed, so I lean over and put her seat belt on for her too, noticing her sweet smell despite all the alcohol she’s had. No one can say that I’m not a gentleman.
I hop in and then make my way to her house, the silence between us deafening. The thick air speaks for itself—she’s angry and hurt and I’m confused, and the last thing I want to do is hurt her any more than I have.
But I also want her.
And despite Cara giving me her blessing, I don’t think Con will give me a chance and it’s made me want her even more.
“Do you want me to stop and get you something to eat?” I ask.
She hesitates, but then replies, “No thank you.”
“Are you just saying that because you’re stubborn but don’t want to admit that you want food?” I ask, amused.
Her stomach grumbles, giving me the answer.