String Beans (The Girls of Beachmont #2) (8 page)

“Look at you two—you look awesome,” I
complimented.

“Wow,” Callie said, looking me up and down. “I had
no idea you could look like that.”

Dallas swatted her thigh and she jumped from the
contact, realizing her words, but I wasn’t offended. Maybe I should have been,
but I wasn’t.

“Thanks.”

Dallas stepped forward and closed my door behind
me. “Let’s go.”

From the outside, Mood Swings seemed like it was
small, and nothing notable stood out. The beige stucco building had a few
lights along the solid wall, and a modest sign containing the club name was
scrawled along the top. There was a long line of people waiting to get in, but
lucky for us, Dallas knew the bouncer so we didn’t have to stand outside for
too long.

But once we were in, I was shocked at the enormity
of Mood Swings. The place was packed with scantily clad bodies on the dance
floors and in cages along the sides. The music was so loud that I could feel it
pumping in my veins. I hadn’t realized how much I missed that scene until we
were there.

Everywhere I stepped, I was bumping into someone,
the words “I’m sorry” spilling from my lips every few seconds. After about the one-hundredth
apology, I gave up and just continued to follow my new friends. Dallas seemed
to know a lot of people, stopping to hug some and offer a wave to others.
Callie was all smiles, checking out guys and talking to a few people that she
knew. Seeing those two having fun made me miss the days of going out with the
girls when we were in college.

By the time we found an empty spot at the bar, I
was already a sweaty mess and in desperate need of a drink.

“First round’s on me,” I said over the music.
Dallas and Callie smiled and began debating what to get, so I took the
opportunity to get a better look at the place.

I always enjoyed bars and clubs, if for no other
reason than to people-watch. It was fascinating to look around and create a
story in your head that pertained to the aforementioned people. Spotting the
desperate chick waiting for someone to throw her some attention was easy. She
was what the girls and I referred to as the
ego-boost
.

Then there was the
resting-
bitchface
chick, whose invisible
fuck-off
sign flashed brightly overhead.
People gave that one a wide berth, and for the first time in a long time, I
related to her.

My favorite was the
doesn’t-give-a-shit
chick. If the first two watched her close
enough, they could see that she had it all figured out. She was there to have
fun, and because she was having fun, people flocked to her.

I had a feeling Callie was that chick. And Dallas
was too.

“Tequila shots,” Dallas shouted.

“What?”

I heard him, but I didn’t think he was serious. Or
at least
hoped
he wasn’t.

Tequila
, he mouthed.

I closed my eyes and winced, just imagining the
burn, before turning to the bartender. I waved him over and smiled when he
approached, his blue eyes catching my attention. There was no way those were
real because they were a striking blue.

He leaned forward and smiled, a dimple appearing
on his right cheek.

Are all L.A. people bred to be gorgeous?

He was almost too pretty to be real, but I didn’t
let myself fall for the flirtatious act. Will would turn on the charm in an
instant all to get a tip, and I was certain the man in front of me was no
different. Instead of flirting, I ordered three shots and handed them to Callie
and Dallas, who held theirs up in the air.

“To moving on,” Callie said with a smile that
faded when Dallas bumped her arm and shook his head.

“To having a good time,” he corrected and raised
his drink in the air a little higher.

I nodded and smiled before tilting the glass to my
lips, already dreading the likely hangover.

Tequila and I were not friends. We’d had a fight
freshman year in college and I never quite forgave him. But since he and my new
friends were on a first-name basis, I figured it was time to bury the hatchet.

“That was awful,” I groaned.

Callie was shaking her head and bouncing in place like
a cartoon about to launch into space. I raised a brow and leaned closer. “You’ve
had alcohol before, right?”

She smiled and slapped her hand on the bar top,
trying to get the guy’s attention.

This is going to be a long night.

Dallas was talking to some guys that had walked
over, leaving me to deal with Callie. She kept commenting on all the sexy men
walking around and how she needed a little liquid courage to approach them. But
given the way she’d introduced herself to me, I highly doubted she needed
courage of any sort since she appeared to have it in spades.

“Here,” she said, shoving another shot glass
toward me.

“No way. Thanks,” I laughed. “I’m good.”

“C’mon, this one’s to new friends,” she said.

I hate new friends.

“Please?”

I rolled my eyes and forced a smile when I noticed
that Dallas was intentionally keeping his back toward us.

“What about Dallas?”

He turned and narrowed his eyes at me, but I only
laughed when she turned to order another. With glass in hand, I swallowed
quickly, feeling the burn in the pit of my stomach. When I set the glass on the
counter, she smiled triumphantly. At the rate we were going, I’d be short for
the evening.

“Let’s go dance,” she shouted.

“No way.” I smiled. “You two go ahead, I’ll save
our spot.”

Dallas gave my hand a tug but I winked and waved
him off. It was his turn to entertain Callie. They started to walk off but
Callie turned back around and hurled herself toward me and pointed.

“Don’t look now, but isn’t that Wyatt over there?”
she asked.

“Where?” I questioned, a little too eagerly.

Damn it.

She pointed to one side of the club and I followed
her gaze, trying to see the familiar face in a sea of strangers.

“I think your eyes are broken,” I laughed.

“Not there,” she said, taking my chin in her hand
and aiming my face in another direction. “There.”

It took maybe one second to find him, and I hated
the way my stomach fluttered when I did. From my vantage point, I could see
that Wyatt was in a button-down shirt and jeans, but that was all I could make
out. He was with some other people, laughing and having a good time. I found
myself watching longer than I meant to and I noticed him scanning the people
around. I quickly averted my eyes and turned around before he could spot me,
only to have Callie laugh at me.

“What was that all about?” Dallas asked loud
enough for us to hear over the music.

“Vi has an admirer,” Callie said. “Have you been
to the coffee bar down the street?”

“Are you talking about the owner?”

“Yep.”

“You could do worse,” he said.

“I’m not trying to do anything. He’s just made
conversation with me a few times, and that’s it.”

“And he’s totally trying to score a date,” Callie
said as I turned around and she ordered another round of shots. I worried about
my ability to keep the next one down.

“Already?” I asked, hating the sound of disapproval
in my voice. I wasn’t trying to mother her, but three shots in less than
fifteen minutes…we were screwed.

“You can handle it,” she said over her shoulder.

I turned my attention to Dallas, ignoring her
comment, and pointed at Callie. “Weren’t you two about to go dance or
something?”

“I got this,” he said.

Callie turned to us and handed out the shots,
quickly drinking hers and slamming the empty glass on the bar.

“Let’s do this,” Callie said as Dallas pulled her
behind him and away from me.

The shot was poised in my hand, ready to go, and I
reluctantly let it pour down my throat, the initial burn long gone.

Hangover, here I come.

I set the glass on the bar and leaned my elbows
against it. There was a group of people to my right talking loudly over the
music, and a couple to my left making out. And in front of me, a blond guy
walking toward me, eyes locked on mine.

He was a good distance away, but I knew I was his
intended target. At least I assumed so until he stopped, shrugged, and then
turned around.

“I thought that was you,” a deep voice rumbled in
my ear over the music. His hot breath tickled the side of my neck and I almost
shivered.

Slowly, I turned to my right and was face-to-face
with Wyatt and those hazel eyes. They weren’t as stunning as the bartender’s,
but at least Wyatt’s were real.

Where did he come from?

“Hey, Earp,” I said, smiling up at him.

“
Doin
’ okay?” he asked,
flashing a lopsided grin. He took the empty shot glass off the bar behind me and
sniffed it before setting it down. “Tequila. Nice.”

“It certainly was.”

A thin blonde walked up behind Wyatt and
practically slithered her arm around his body. I didn’t know much about the guy
aside from the few conversations we’d had when I went to String Beans and the
night we spent eating. I’d made it clear that my walls were high and thick; no
one was getting through.

Yet I found myself jealous watching the woman
metaphorically piss on him to mark her territory.

“Hey,” I said, acknowledging her presence. “Viola.
Nice to meet you.”

She didn’t say anything in response, but Wyatt’s
eyes hadn’t left mine. I tried not to look as his hand took hold of hers and
removed it from his torso. And I
tried
not to notice that he hadn’t said two words to her.

“I should get back to my friends,” I said to him
and then looked at blonde. “Nice to meet you.”

“Mind if I join?” he asked.

“Excuse me?” I said, looking at his needy date.

“Waylon…what about me?” she whined.

He scoffed and that time looked at her. “I told
you, the name is Wyatt.”

I covered my mouth to hide my smile as she stomped
off.

Wyatt rolled his eyes and shook his head. “All
night.”

“Too bad. She looked like a sure thing,” I noted
as I walked toward the dance floor.

I knew Wyatt was behind me but I kept walking,
hoping that Callie and Dallas could act as a buffer. I hated dancing and I
rarely did it in front of others, but it was the only way I could escape a
conversation.

I was halfway across the dance floor when his hand
snaked around me from behind and pulled my back flush against his strong front.
I was struggling in his arms, trying to free myself, mortified that Wyatt was
such a
handsy
guy. I didn’t get the impression he was
anything like that. We didn’t even know each other. Certainly not well enough
for him to just grab me.

“Let go,” I muttered, struggling to free myself,
but his grip only tightened. “Wyatt! Let. Go!”

Only, when I finally managed to turn myself around
in his arms, it wasn’t Wyatt, but some other man.

“Enough, asshole,” I said as I pushed hard against
his chest.

He finally released me and scowled before finding
someone else to grope.

“Are you okay?” Wyatt asked, appearing beside me.
“I tried to get to you.”

I shrugged and blew out a shaky breath. I’d dealt
with my share of drunks and grabby men at clubs and bars, but I’d always had
Will there. I was briefly terrified in that moment when I’d realized I only had
myself to rely on.

But I’d handled it, and in the end I was okay.

“I’m good. Thanks.”

I turned around and decided that buffer or not,
the dance floor wasn’t where I wanted to be. I’d wait until they were done
dancing, and if that meant I’d be alone with Wyatt for a few minutes, I’d
survive.

“There you are,” Callie shouted as we finally made
our way through the mass of people. She and Dallas were standing with some friends
in the same spot where they’d left me so they could dance. She pulled me into
an awkward hug. “I was worried.”

I laughed and returned the hug before stepping
away.

“Wyatt, you know Callie.”

He flashed a smile and nodded.

I pointed to Dallas, who hadn’t noticed my return
because he was engrossed in some other conversation. “And that’s my friend
Dallas.”

Wyatt looked down at me and dipped his face to my
ear so I could hear him. “You really did make some friends,” he teased.

“I did,” I answered happily, my moment with the
grabby guy gone from my thoughts. The alcohol was taking effect and I liked
what it was doing.

“You’re smiling at me. On purpose. Is this what
drunk Vi is like?” he asked, nudging his arm against mine.

“Shut up,” I laughed. “I had three shots. That’s
it.”

“Viola,” Callie sang loudly as she stood next to
me and gripped my hand tightly. “Let’s dance.”