I started to say that I didn't need another one, but then I glanced down and saw that my drink was already half gone. Apparently I'd been drinking more than I'd realized.
“Anyway,” he continued. “I started at the agency right out of college – Columbia, with honors – and got a promotion within six months.” His eyes ran down the full length of my body and then back again.
As I finished my drink, I let his words wash over me. It seemed that once I'd gotten the pump primed, he wasn't about to slow or stop. He told me all about how his company relied on him because he was the best at what he did. As our conversation shifted from his work to his hobbies, I got the impression that he was the best at everything he did – at least, according to him. A champion swimmer. Good enough to be a ski instructor. Better surfer than half those assholes who got all the attention in Hawaii.
If it hadn't been for the fact that I was halfway through my second Sea Breeze, I would've yawned and told him I was too tired to stay out any later, never-mind the fact that it was only eight o'clock. Instead, I decided to enjoy the free alcohol and let him drone on and on about what I was quickly beginning to understand was his favorite subject: himself.
“What do you think about that?”
I suddenly realized that he was asking me a question. I gave him my best charming smile and hoped he'd repeat what he was talking about so I didn't have to look like a complete idiot and ask.
“I mean, I know most women don't like hockey, but I think if you saw me play, you'd feel differently.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and it was harder than I thought. I needed to slow down on the drinks or I wouldn't be able to stop myself from blurting out whatever I was thinking. I tended to have impulse issues when I got drunk.
“I actually do like hockey,” I said. At least I wasn't slurring my words yet. “My brother played when we were kids.”
“Does he play now?” Steven asked. “Maybe he could go a little one-on-one with me so you could see my skills. I never disappoint when it comes to physical prowess.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and I almost laughed.
I finished my drink and set the glass on the counter. I frowned. When had I gotten a third one? I could've sworn I'd only had two, but there were three little stir stick things on the bar next to me. Another Sea Breeze had magically appeared. I knew it wasn't a good idea, especially since I hadn't eaten anything since my salad at lunch, but it was beckoning me, telling me that if I drank it, the last of the fuzzy hurt I was feeling would go away. I scowled at the glass as if it were personally responsible for the fact that I was pretty sure I was in for a hell of a hangover tomorrow.
“Are you okay?” The question should've been concerned, but it sounded more like Steven was annoyed that I'd interrupted what I was sure had been a fascinating story about something amazing he excelled at.
“I have to use the restroom,” I announced. I slid off of my stool, preparing to make a confident exit, only to find that I wasn't exactly in the best shape to stand.
Everything tilted as a wave of dizziness washed over me. I put out my hand to steady myself and heard breaking glass as I knocked my newest drink to the floor. Okay, I was more drunk than I'd thought. Was it possible I'd had more than three drinks? I thought hard as I worked to get my feet underneath me, but I wasn't doing so well at multi-tasking at the moment.
Steven stood and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a standing position. I managed to get my feet to stay and waited for him to let me go. He didn't. If anything, he held me more tightly so I had to crane my neck to look up at him. He smelled like some kind of aftershave, and while I was sure it was probably a good scent most of the time, at the moment, it was a bit overwhelming.
“I think I better take you home.” He chuckled and I felt the vibration against my palms.
I started to shake my head and then decided that probably wasn't a good idea; I was dizzy enough. With my luck, I'd completely lose my balance or throw up. Possibly both.
“Or maybe I should take you back to my place.” He cupped the side of my face and his touch was enough to jar me out of a completely drunken stupor.
I jerked back, barely catching myself. “I don't think that's a good idea.” My eyes caught something behind his half-empty glass of bourbon. More of those little stir sticks, and I was pretty sure his drinks hadn't come with them. Had he intentionally been getting me drunk?
Before I could confront him about my suspicions, he'd closed the short distance between us and was reaching for my wrist.
“I think you're in no condition to decide what's best for you.” He grinned again, but there was something darker about that smile than there had been earlier. “Let's go.”
I glanced toward the bartender, but he was at the other end of the bar, thoroughly engrossed in a conversation. I didn't know what to do. I wasn't exactly sure how much danger I was in. Maybe he wanted me to go with him because he was going to take me to Mindy's since they lived in the same building. Something in my gut said I was being naïve... well, stupid actually. But would it be an overreaction if I screamed? I didn't want to go with him, but I didn't want to be the girl who freaked out on a blind date.
My alcohol-soaked brain couldn't process the information quickly enough and Steven managed to pull me several steps before I began to struggle. Well, it was more like I yanked my arm but got absolutely nowhere.
“Let me go.” I tried to make my voice as firm as possible. “I'll take a cab home.”
“I think it's better you come with me.” Steven's fingers tightened around my wrist.
Before I could decide if now was a good time to scream, a tall, broad body inserted itself between Steven and me, forcing him to let me go.
“I believe the lady said she wanted to take a cab.” A deep voice rumbled.
I rubbed my wrist as I looked up at my white knight. I was tall, over five-ten in heels, but this man towered over me. He had to be at least six-five, six-six, and solid muscle from the looks of him. Blue-black curls that had that 'just fucked' tousled look that I'd always secretly loved.
“Fuck off,” Steven snarled. “This isn't any of your business.”
The stranger looked down at me and I found myself staring into a pair of intelligent dark gray eyes. “Miss, do you want your date here to take you home or would you prefer I called you a cab?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but never got the chance to get a word out because Steven grabbed the man's arm and attempted to turn him around. I saw those gray eyes darken and then he was moving himself, gracefully sidestepping as Steven attempted to throw a punch. Somehow, the stranger managed to keep me behind him, out of harm's way, as Steven cursed, stumbled, and then tried again.
This time, when the stranger moved, he gave Steven a little push that sent my date slamming into the bar with enough force to make him slump to the ground. He wasn't unconscious, but he didn't look like he was going to be getting up anytime soon.
My mysterious savior turned back to me and gave me a hard smile. “Some people don't understand the proper way to treat a lady.” He held out his hand. “Let me help you get home safely.”
Common sense said that it'd be just as crazy to go with this stranger as it would've been to go with Steven, but I could barely think clearly. I needed home and bed. I nodded and slid my hand into his. Warmth spread through my palm and fingers from where they touched him and I wondered if he felt the same way. Probably not. He was probably holding my hand to lead me through the bar and make sure I didn't pass out or something like that.
He flagged down a cab with ease, then surprised me by sliding into the back seat with me. He looked at me expectantly, and then asked, “Address?”
“Oh, right.” I flushed and rattled off my address.
The stranger leaned forward to speak to the cabbie, but I didn't listen. I was concentrating on not blacking out or throwing up, which took more concentration than one would think. When the stranger settled back in his seat, I found myself staring at him, focusing on using my eyes to trace his strong jawline and high cheekbones. He was a perfect balance between pretty and masculine, the kind of guy that pretty much every straight woman or gay man would find at least moderately attractive. Not that I could figure out why anyone would think this man was anything less than smoking hot.