Slow Ride (5 page)
DIESEL
watched Tuesday stomp off, a little unsteady on her feet. He clenched his hands at his sides involuntarily when she strode straight up to some douche bag wearing his necktie like a belt. He tried not to grit his teeth when Tuesday started dancing with him and the guy used that necktie to wrap around her waist and draw her closer to him.
watched Tuesday stomp off, a little unsteady on her feet. He clenched his hands at his sides involuntarily when she strode straight up to some douche bag wearing his necktie like a belt. He tried not to grit his teeth when Tuesday started dancing with him and the guy used that necktie to wrap around her waist and draw her closer to him.
He should have slow danced with her. He could have managed that. Maybe.
He should have kissed her. He could have handled that without taking it to far on the dance floor. Possibly.
At the very least, he should not have suggested she eat some finger food. How lame was that? He’d been thinking it would help slow down her speeding train to trashed town, but all it had done was piss her off. Rightly so. Offering finger food was stupid and grandmotherly. He didn’t want to seem like an ancient relative.
So the question was what did he do now? Did he stand there like a loser watching her grind—yes, grind—with some pretty boy, or did he do something about it? He could walk away and abandon the whole idea of Tuesday, which really, what exactly was his idea? Hell if he knew. Or he could save her from what was clearly a bad choice.
Then again, how did he know what was a good choice or a bad choice for Tuesday? Maybe this dude was someone she would really dig, and they’d get married or something and if he interrupted, he’d destroy her future.
God, his head hurt, and he felt like the longer he stood there, the more his testosterone was draining away. Another five minutes and he’d have to turn in his man card.
The point was, did he want Tuesday or not?
His dick hardened in his dress pants.
That was a yes.
The follow-up question was could he do anything about it tonight?
No. Not when she was as loaded as she was.
But he could certainly protect her from making a drunken mistake she’d probably regret.
Because from the looks of that guy, he had one thing and one thing only in mind. And while Tuesday was laughing as she danced with him, she also kept repeatedly moving his hand off her ass.
Diesel forced his shoulders to relax and he moved to the edge of the dance floor. “Excuse me, I’m cutting in.”
The douche king stopped grinning at Tuesday and glared at Diesel. “You can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not done with her.”
Diesel saw red at the possessive and patronizing tone in the guy’s voice. “Oh, you’re done. Step away from the lady.”
Tuesday was eyeing him, a smile on her face. “You’re going to dance with me? Really?”
She was about three beats behind the current conversation, but Diesel felt no small amount of satisfaction at how pleased she sounded. “Yes, sweetheart, I’m going to dance with you.”
Hopefully the song would be over in the next ten seconds. But he would dance if it meant getting her away from this guy.
“That’s super awesome.” Tuesday extracted herself from the other guy’s octopus arms and said, “I’m sorry, he’s cutting in. Maybe we can dance again later.”
“Are you serious?” the guy asked, clearly irritated.
“Yes.”
“Bitch,” was his final thought before he turned to leave, his tie trailing on the floor.
Diesel reached out and grabbed the guy’s arm. He didn’t want to make a scene, but that was unacceptable. “Hey. Show a little respect. I think you owe her an apology.”
He glanced down at Diesel’s hand wrapped around his arm. “Sorry. But maybe you should tell your girlfriend to stop flirting with guys. Or I don’t know, maybe this is a game the two of you play.”
“I don’t play games.” The whole idea that any couple would do that actually offended Diesel on a lot of levels, but he was done with this conversation. “Come on, Tuesday, let’s go.”
“But you’re going to dance with me!”
Right. Fighting the urge to sigh, Diesel moved her a few feet away from the idiot. But then he took her in his arms and he no longer regretted his rash promise.
Oh, shit. Tuesday was so damn beautiful. It felt good, it felt right, it felt scary as freaking hell to hold her lightly in his arms. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware of his knee aching, but he ignored it. He had no rhythm whatsoever, but he could sway. So that’s what he did, his hands on her waist, her arms wrapped around his neck.
“Happy?” he asked her. “I’m making an ass out of myself for you.”
“Oh, whatever.” She tossed her head like she wasn’t used to her hair being pulled so tautly. “You were dying to dance with me and you know it. You were just playing hard to get.”
“Yeah, that’s totally me. I’m probably going to bat my eyelashes at you next.”
He expected her to say something snarky, but she studied his eyes so long he started to feel uncomfortable. What the hell did she see? Maybe she was staring at the scar he had under his eye from where he’d gotten sliced by an icy snowball in a childhood accident. It had never bothered him before, but what the hell?
“You have beautiful eyes,” she told him, her voice a little dreamy.
And slurred.
Diesel still felt flattered, even if her statement was fueled by alcohol. A little embarrassed, too. What guy wants his eyes pointed out as his best feature first? He’d be feeling a bit more manly if she had mentioned his biceps.
“Thanks.”
“But you’re right, you can’t dance.”
Diesel laughed. “You have the truth of it there, Tuesday.” He tried to loosen up, be less stiff, but his body just didn’t cooperate. “By the way, you have beautiful eyes, too, you know.”
She did. They were a deep, rich brown with flecks of gold. They were mysterious and sassy and vulnerable, and he was heading into some damn dangerous territory. Tuesday Jones was not in any position tonight—or probably at all—to be getting involved with someone. He wasn’t a onenight stand kind of guy either.
But it had been a long time since he’d tasted a woman’s skin, felt the slide of her legs over his, buried himself deep inside her hot, moist body . . .
“Thanks,” she murmured, wetting her lips.
Diesel followed the progress of her tongue as it dragged slowly across her bottom lip, leaving it shiny and kissable. Damn. Damn. Damn.
He could not take advantage of a drunk woman.
Wouldn’t.
“How are you getting home?” he asked her.
Her eyes darkened and he realized the implication of what he’d just said.
“Is the limo taking you? Do you need a ride?”
“No, I have my car.”
She was clearly in no position to be driving.
“I should actually call a cab,” she said.
It was good to know she was aware of how far into the champagne she was. “I can give you a ride.”
The corner of her mouth turned up. “Are you going to take advantage of me if I say yes?”
“Of course not.”
“Damn. I was hoping you’d say yes.”
Diesel almost groaned. Her hands had slid into his hair and he was enjoying the light touch as she stroked through to the roots. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” he murmured to her.
“Oh, yes, I do.” Tuesday’s lips fell open and she stood up on her toes, her body moving closer to his, her mouth heading towards his.
He refused to be the loser who let a woman kiss him first. It didn’t work that way.
But before he could take her mouth with his, Tuesday suddenly lost her footing and went down in a heap of orange fabric. He was so stunned that it took him a second to react, and by the time he did, Tuesday was on the floor.
“Oh, shit, are you okay? What happened?” Diesel squatted down, his knee screaming in protest. He scanned her body for obvious injuries, and there was no sign of anything other than shapely calves and firm thighs. A lot of thigh. Like more thigh than should ever be seen short of a woman wearing a bathing suit. Diesel yanked his eyes off her lower half and settled on her face.
She was laughing, legs sprawled out in front of her, dress hiked up to dangerous territory. “I have no idea what just happened.”
Then she just laid back completely on the dance floor, her midsection rising up and down from her giggles. A few other dancers were glancing their way, so Diesel fixed the hem of her dress because he couldn’t stand the temptation of all that skin, nor did he want any other man checking her out. He couldn’t help but grin as she shook with laughter.
Taking her hand he pulled her back to a sitting position. “Come on, you lush. Let’s get you home.”
“I’m not drunk. Well, okay, I may be slightly drunk, but I’m no lush.” This pronouncement was made with her legs spread in a V on the dance floor, and her fingers digging into the top of her dress to adjust her bra.
“Uh-huh.”
It wasn’t easy, but using the strength in his arms and not his legs, Diesel managed to haul her off the ground without causing himself too much pain. Tuesday immediately tottered again in her spiky heels. “Maybe you should take your shoes off, sweetheart.”
“Why are you calling me sweetheart? You’re freaking me out.” But holding firmly onto his arm, she did lean over and pry off her shoes. There was a precarious moment where she almost went down again, but she held it together.
He had no idea why he was calling her sweetheart. To tell the truth, he hadn’t even been aware he was doing it until she’d pointed it out. Heat crawled up his neck and it wasn’t from the crowded ballroom. “I can stop if it bothers you.”
“Nah.” She stood straight up and looked him in the eye boldly. “I don’t want you to stop.”
Diesel almost groaned. She wasn’t going to make this easy. Sometimes being a decent human being sucked.
Fortunately, Evan and Kendall approached them. “You okay, Tuesday?” Evan asked.
“I’m fine.”
Kendall took Tuesday’s hand and said, “Excuse us, I need to talk to Tuesday for a second.”
They moved a few feet away, Diesel and Evan both watching them. “Hey, congrats again, man. Your wife is quite a catch.”
“Thanks. I am a lucky man, that’s for damn sure.” Evan cleared his throat. “Look, I have to be straight with you. Tuesday is Kendall’s best friend and I like you, you know that. I respect you and we’ve known each other a long time. But she’s shitfaced tonight and just needs a ride home, you get what I’m saying?”
Diesel tried not to be offended. Evan was just looking out for Tuesday. “That’s all I was planning to do. Unless you’d prefer I call her a cab.”
Evan clapped him on the shoulder. “No, that’s cool. I trust you. Just glad we’re on the same page. She’s had a rough couple of weeks, you know?”
“Yeah. I know.” Diesel knew that pain. Knew that desire to escape into alcohol or anything that would make you forget. He had fought that battle after he’d lost his mother, and his brother, and his cousin. Then again when he’d had his own accident and realized he’d never be able to drive again. “So she doesn’t have a boyfriend or anything, does she?”
It had occurred to him that maybe he should ask that before he thought too much about kissing those sexy lips of hers.
Evan grinned. “So that’s how the wind blows, huh? No, she doesn’t have a boyfriend. She was doing an online dating thing for a while, but from what Kendall told me, she had a lot of bad first dates and nothing more.”
“Yeah?” Diesel tried to sound noncommittal. He wasn’t really sure what he was thinking or what he wanted. He just knew he wanted the opportunity, if he chose to take it, of seeing Tuesday again sometime. Possibly.
“I’m sure you can take her out on a bad first date, too.”
Was that what he wanted?
Diesel studied the tall brunette in the pumpkin dress and thought he suddenly wanted that more than anything else right now.
“YOU
need to drink some water,” Kendall said.
need to drink some water,” Kendall said.
“I’m fine,” Tuesday insisted. God, she was just drunk. It wasn’t like that had never happened before. “Will you go off and bang your husband and not worry about me? I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.” Glancing around the floor, she said, “Shit, what did I do with my shoes?”
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