Doll Face (Baby Doll #3) Page 4

  “In case, you forgot she was rich, and now she’s not. You saw the papers. So now it’s an even playing field.”

  He shakes his head. “The rich always come back; her daddy will find some foreign bank account he forgot about with a few million dollars, pocket change. Do yourself a favor and walk away now.”

  I don’t want to hear any more of James’ bullshit, so I turn away from him and scan the dance floor finding Karly. She is grinding up on some poor sap who thinks he has a chance in hell of getting with her. Ha. Karly’s eyes dart back and forth to see who is watching her. Another reason we broke up—she likes to play too many games. Her eyes land on mine, and a wicked smile spreads across her face. She bends over, pushing her ass up on the guy. I shake my head and keep scanning the dance floor.

  I don’t want to admit it, but I’m looking for her. Something about her has gotten to me. It’s the challenge she unknowingly set for me, and I do love a good challenge. I want to prove to her that she’s not better than me, that I’m just as good as any of those rich fuck-heads that she dates. I shake my head. What am I doing? I might not admit it to him, but James is right. I need to forget about her. Then I see her, and I can’t just forget about her, not now while she is dancing with some guy. Jealousy flares inside of me, it’s a white hot fire that burns through my veins. It only cools when I see the guy’s blue glittered eyelids and glossed lips. Shit, I need to get a grip. I turn around and order a shot of whiskey. It burns going down, but I welcome the warm buzz that follows, calming me. I order two more shots, and I walk over to her. I need to take care of this now.

  Red and her friend are doing some self-choreographed dance that includes them scratching the air in sync like some cracked out cats. What the hell? I laugh to myself. She starts to spin, her hair coming loose out of her perfect bun, and I want to yank the rest of it down. She spins right into me; instinctively my arms go out, and I catch her around the waist. And that electricity that was there before sparks to life, burning hotter, or maybe that is the alcohol, but every part of me feels like it’s on fire.

  She looks up at me, her mouth forming an ‘O’ shape, her chest rising and falling. She is shocked and small and helpless. She is small … helpless, I’m not so sure that she is. I have a feeling this girl could tear down buildings if she needed to.

  “Dang, boyfriend, you can rescue me anytime.” Her friend winks at me and skips off, leaving us alone.

  “I don’t need rescuing,” she says, but her voice wavers, saying that she just might.

  “I didn’t think you did.” My hands are still on her waist; I love the feel of the slinky material sliding against her skin. Her hands grip my biceps.

  Leaning down, I whisper in her ear, “Dance with me?” Her body trembles and then relaxes against me. I take her arm and wrap it around my neck. The other I let stay on my bicep because I like the feel of it there. I grip her hips, pulling her into me until I can feel every part of her just as she can feel me.

  His fingers dig into my flesh, instantly making me sober. His body is hard pressing into me, moving in slow, mesmerizing movements, and I can feel parts of him that make me blush. I have no clue what is playing in the background, if the song is fast or slow or if there is any music playing at all. My senses are heightened, filled with him—his cologne mixed with his soap goes straight to my head, making me dizzy. I want to breathe him in, to taste him. I should be mad at him; this is the guy who towed my car, but I not. My body hums alive with each movement of him grinding against me. I can feel my defenses wavering as his hands travel from my hips down my bare thigh. And for the first time tonight, I’m glad I wore this dress. He plays with the hem of the skirt, never going any farther. It’s driving me insane, making me want to do things with him I never would normally dream of doing.

  His mouth moves, grazing the bottom of my earlobe as he sings along with the song. God, this is my favorite song, whatever it is. It’s all I have not to come completely undone right here on the dance floor. I dig my fingers into his bicep and bite my lip, holding back the moan that threatens to escape and give me away. I don’t want him to know he has this effect on me. I need to stay in control if I don’t everything I have left will fall apart.

  I feel another hand on my back, this one is smaller and cooler than Nash’s. He stops moving, his body going rigid, pressing me tighter to him in a protective hold.

  “Katie, I think it’s time to go.” It’s Paul. Damn it, Paul, I want to groan and scream at him to go away. But I did tell him to watch me, and maybe what I’m feeling is only a result of the alcohol.

  “Who the hell are you?” Nash asks in a deep tone that means business.

  Oh no. I step out of his hold, but his hand stays firmly on my back as if he can keep me safe from just his touch, and I wonder if he could. Could he keep me safe, erase everything that has happened in my life?

  Paul clears his throat, obviously uncomfortable with the conflict. Small red patches begin to appear on his neck. “Look, buddy, we don’t want trouble,” Paul begins to explain in a teacher-like voice.

  I try to say something, but the air is hot and thick, making it hard to breathe. The room feels too small to hold this many people. There has to be more in here than permitted by the fire marshal; it’s hot, too hot. Sweat breaks out across my forehead and down my back. I try to smooth down my hair, pressing it back into place. What would my mother think if she saw me now? What am I doing? Everything seems to be spinning out of control too fast, and I feel like I’m once again slipping off the earth.

  Paul grips my arm. “Katie, let’s go.”

  “Don’t fucking touch her.” Adam pushes me behind him and shoves Paul. He stumbles back, his thin, pale hair falling out of place, and for a moment, I’m amused at the sight of him. Prim and proper Paul, who is always perfect, with his hair messed up. However, I choke on the laugh. This is Paul, perfect Paul, who is letting me stay with him, and I’m letting my tow guy push him around because I think it’s funny that his perfect façade is messed up when I’m barely hanging on to mine?

  ‘Hey, you can’t push him,’ is what I mean to say, but it comes as, “Is the room … spinning?” Both Paul and Adam reach for me at the same time, but it’s the floor that catches me. I don’t know how many times I vomit before Kiki reaches me, or whose shoe I cover with puke.

  “Oh, Katie-bug, you let it all out. What, you ain’t never seen a desperate drunk girl puke before? That’s right, ya’ll look away. Hey … Tag me in that pic, hashtag glitter bitch.” Kiki presses my hair back; his hands are cool and comforting against my forehead. “Thank the heavens you were not wearing my shoes,” Kiki says as he pulls me to my feet.

  I wipe at my mouth with the back of my hand. “I think I got throw up on your dress.” I pull at the material on my chest and find that it’s speckled in vomit. “You lied to me.” I look up at Kiki, who is spinning. “Tequila is not my friend.” My legs feel weak under me; the world still sways. “Why is this room moving so fast?” I swallow back more vomit that threatens to come back up.

  “Katie-bug, you are shit-faced. Oh-my-god, baby, what happened to your hair?” Kiki squeals, dropping my arm and rushes over to Paul to smooth his hair down. The room moves to the right, and I move to the left. Adam grabs me, and I lean into him. He is warm and solid, and he keeps the room from moving. I moan, shutting my eyes and breathing him in.

  “I got you,” he says, lifting me up. He cradles my legs, holding me like I’m something precious, something that is worth having. I nuzzle into him, squeezing my eyes shut. For the first time in a long time, I feel safe, that someone else will help hold the world together, even if it just for a moment.

  I probably just fucked up whatever it was that was happening between us. What the hell is this girl doing to me? I don’t even know her … hell, I just learned her name was Katie, and I’m ready to fight the world for her. I should tell her friend that I’m sorry. He wasn’t interested in her, and yet I let my temper get the best of me. It wasn’t t
he first time, and I’m sure as hell it will not be the last. That is what I do—act on impulse before I think it through.

  Fuckkk, I need to fix what I just broke. Before I can apologize, Katie falls to her knees and throws up. She covers my shoes in puke. I’m too stunned to move as I stare down at my puke covered shoes and then back at Katie. I don’t know what to do, growing up in a house full of men, when someone is sick you just make sure they are on their side, so they don’t choke on their own vomit. With her, she changes all the rules, and I don’t know what to do. I look up at Paul, helpless, who looks as lost as me. Thankfully her friend with the glitter eyeshadow takes over, pushing her hair back out of her face. Black makeup streams down her cheeks.

  “Oh Katie-bug, you let it all out,” he soothes her. I hear laughing coming from the audience that we have acquired. Someone takes out a cell phone, videoing the whole scene. Shit, this is going to suck. She can now watch on all social media outlets how I just stood here like a tool while she was sick. “What, you ain’t never seen a desperate drunk girl puke? That’s right, ya’ll look away.” Her friend stands up, his head bobbing back and forth as he tells off the crowd. “Hey …” He poses; he is definitely just as wasted as Red is, but he can hold it better than her that’s for sure. “Tag me in that pic, hashtag glitter bitch,” he says before leaning back down to her. He presses his hands to her forehead and helps her up off the floor. “Thank the heavens you were not wearing my shoes.”

  “I think I got throw up on your dress.” She says pulling at the dress; a black, laced bra peeks out. I should look away, but I don’t. “You lied to me,” she whimpers. “Tequila is not my friend. Why is this room moving?” she asks helplessly. Hell no, tequila is not her friend, it isn’t anybody’s friend. I have learned that the hard way a time or two.

  “Katie-bug, you’re shit faced. Oh-my-god, baby, what happened to your hair?” her friend says, running to Paul. Now I feel even more like a complete asshole. He wasn’t her boyfriend or some asshole trying to take her home. He is her friend’s boyfriend. When she starts to sway, I reach for her catching her just before she goes down. She leans into me, and I wrap my arm around her, holding her up. She sighs and I want to protect her from the world. Through the vomit, I can smell her perfume, jasmine, and vanilla.

  Paul looks over at me for a split second. “I tripped,” he mumbles.

  “Oh God. Come on, let’s get Katie and get out of here, before someone sees you like that,” Kiki coos.

  My arm tightens around her; I’m not ready to let her go, not when she is this vulnerable. I scoop her up. “I got you,” I say into her hair. She is heavier than she appears. She snuggles her face into me and warmth explodes in my chest. Paul walks up to me, holding out his arms. “I will take her to the car,” I say, and he nods. When I exit the bar, James is still shaking his head, and Karly is shooting daggers at me. I ignore them both and walk through the doors.

  I slide into the back of the car with her, and when Paul opens his mouth, I quickly say, “Someone needs to carry her into the house.” He nods his head at me and shuts the door behind us. I lay Katie down, her head propped on my lap. She nuzzles into me, and a small smile plays on her lips. I push her hair back. Up close she is even prettier than I thought, her skin is porcelain and clear. Her nose is lightly dusted with freckles, and her hair is bright red, beautiful. She is not quite like anything I have seen before.

  Playing with one of the loose strands of hair, I weave it between my fingers and let it fall through each one. She lets out a sigh that has me feel like I am coming undone. What the hell are you doing, man? This girl is going to rip out your heart if you let her. I lean back and close my eyes, listening to the sound of her breathing. I have never felt this way about someone so fast, someone that is so different from me. I want my world to crash into hers. I don’t care what anyone says, I have to be with this girl. I just need to come up with a plan to get her to see that I’m not the bad guy she thinks I am. I will show her that I’m better than any of the guys in her past or present.

  Paul turns into an apartment complex downtown. Carefully I pull her into my arms and cradle her to my chest. Again the feeling of wanting to be this girl’s hero tugs at my gut. I can feel the flutter of her heart against my chest. Kiki races ahead of us, shoes in one hand and keys with a dozen keychains on it in the other.

  Paul lives on the second floor, and his apartment is pretty nice, way better than what I call home. “Her room is the second door on the right,” Paul says, opening the door for me.

  “Thanks, I will put her down and then leave. Paul, I’m sorry about earlier, I don’t know what came over me.” I need to get it out there and clear the air between us. Paul opens his mouth to answer, but it’s Kiki who replies.

  “You’re just lucky my man didn’t kick your cute little behind. You have one minute to get out of her room.” Kiki glares at me.

  I nod at them and make my way to her room. Like the rest of the house, this room is pristine—white walls and oak-colored furniture. It doesn’t seem fitting for her fiery personality; she needs bright colors splashed on the walls matching her. I lay her down on the bed and slip off her sandals. I need to take off her puke-covered dress, but I don’t want to disrespect her in any way. I pull the sheet up around her before reaching under them to pull off her dress. My hand touches her warm skin, and I have to close my eyes to center myself. Be a gentleman, Adam, I tell myself while I slide the material off of her. When I have the dress off, I stand up and look down at her. She seems so small and fragile, I want to stay with her and make sure she will be okay through the night, but I was only given sixty seconds to make sure of it. I put a trashcan next to the bed in case she gets sick again. Then I go into the bathroom and find a washcloth and carefully clean her face. Her breathing is deep and peaceful. She’ll be okay, but I’m not sure I will.

  I apologize once more before leaving. When I’m outside in the hot, humid night air, I pull out my phone and give James direction to where I’m at, and then I walk about a mile before he picks me up. My mind is going a mile a minute with what happened tonight. I have never taken care of any girl like that. It’s not that I’m a dick, I just don’t get mixed up with girls like that.

  “You stink like ass, man,” Playboy says from the backseat. I turn around and swing at him, but he ducks out of the way.

  “Didn’t I tell you to leave the little prick home?” I ask. James just shrugs. Ever since Playboy, James’ little brother, turned eighteen he has been a pain in the ass. Sure most of the time when we go out we sneak him shots, normally I wouldn’t give a shit about his snarky comments, but tonight I don’t feel like dealing with it, not when my head is this fucked up.

  “If we didn’t bring him he would have just found a way down to the Black Hole anyway.”

  Knowing its true, I let out a string of profanity. I feel like hitting something or someone, so I close my eyes and focus on my breathing, but her perfume is stuck to my shirt, and my mind keeps somersaulting back to Katie. “What are you doing?”

  I open my eyes to see the deep lines etched into James' forehead. I’m probably scaring the shit out of him right now; I have to be. He knows I have never let anyone get under my skin this deep. Fuck, I’m scaring myself.

  “I don’t fucking know.”

  I peel my eyes open as the sun comes up, a dull ache forming behind my eyes as my brain throbs against my skull. Then I instantly panic, I only have on a bra, Adam Nash slams into my mind. His steel gray eyes spin through my head. God, his eyes are amazing. Shit! What happened last night? I lift up the cover to make sure I’m not imagining it. Nope, still almost naked. Ughhh!

  The last thing I remember was him carrying me. He felt so warm and safe like nothing could touch me, everything that happened in the last few days had vanished. I can’t remember anything that we did. Oh, my God, he saw me naked. I have never had a one-night stand in my life, I’m just not that type of girl, and the one time I do I can’t even remember it. Did I
see him naked? My cheeks heat at the thought of Adam naked. No, no, no, stop it, stop it. I will not think of him that way; the guy is a douchebag, and an obvious man whore, and someone I would never ever be within a million years.

  The door opens, letting in more headache-inducing light. Kiki saunters in wearing a leopard silk robe dragging behind him and matching headband, with something orange in a glass in his hand. He sits down next to me on the bed. “Rise and shine, the sunshine.”

  “Tell me I didn’t do anything with Adam Nash?” I croak.

  “Unfortunately no, but you did puke on him and then used the boy like he was your own personal hammock. You were climbing him like he was the only tree in the forest and you were a kangaroo.”

  “Ugh. Don’t tell me anymore. And kangaroo’s don’t climb trees, do.”

  “Whateves. All I know is that boy is a true knight in shining armor, he carried you all the way to the car and then up the stairs. Le sigh, I wish Paul was strong enough to carry me through the threshold. That boy can barely lift the house plant I have been asking him to move off the damn porch for the last six months; you think it would kill the boy to start lifting some weights. I’m about to toss that shit off the terrace myself.”

  I sit up, pulling the sheets with me. So Adam did see me naked, but nothing more transpired. I’m both relieved and slightly disappointed. I mean, if I’m going to have one night of regrets, Adam isn’t a bad choice to be that regret.

  “Here, I brought you granny Mildred secret hangover recipe.” He hands me the glass of what looks like orange juice. I take a drink and almost throw up again.

  “What the hell is in this?” I gag.

  He waves me off. “An egg or two and whatever spicy stuff Paul has up in the fridge.”