Chapter Seven
Three and a half drinks later, Hannah figured she just about had this flirting thing down.
At least in theory.
“You sure do have a pretty smile, sugar,” a tall blonde cowboy told her, flashing a set of pearly whites. It was an odd thing for him to say, considering she hadn’t smiled in the last couple minutes, but she appreciated it anyway.
As far as flirt victims…err, targets were considered, he seemed friendly enough. Outgoing and forgiving of her awkward attempts at conversation—but then, she hadn’t complimented the roundness of his Adam’s apple, or accidentally spilled a drink down his back when she’d leaned in, either. Hannah considered that definite progress.
“Um”—she hiccupped—“thanks.”
Unsure of how else to respond to the compliment, she tried tugging her lips into the aforementioned gesture—only, her mouth hesitated to cooperate. And, when it finally did, it kind of stretched a bit at the edges and felt sort of funny. Like her smile no longer fit her face.
And speaking of her face, the skin around her mouth felt strange, too. Almost rubbery, but also sort of numb. Like Jim Carrey in The Mask. Only, hopefully not green.
Hannah gazed at the freshly filled cup in her hand and giggled. Oops. She probably should’ve told the girls that she was a lightweight.
Cowboy Man scooted forward, catching Hannah off guard, and she stumbled on her borrowed heels into the person behind her. Her pink drink sloshed across her hand and spilled onto the floor. She frowned. Such a waste.
“Wanna dance?”
“Dance?” she repeated, setting her cup on the bar top. There should be some sort of rule about drinking in borrowed shoes, especially heels. Ugh, heels were the devil. Looking back up at her flirtee, a confused wrinkle formed between her eyebrows.
Ah, right. He’d asked her to dance. That wasn’t supposed to be part of the deal. Sober Hannah resembled a confused buffalo when she danced. Buzzed Hannah? Well, she rarely drank more than a glass of wine here or there anyway, due to the whole “lightweight” problem, but she felt moderately confident that Buzzed Hannah was even worse. A deranged buffalo, perhaps?
Besides, if she were going to dance, it certainly wouldn’t be with him. Dancing meant being held and breathing the same air, and Cowboy Man smelled all wrong. Like leather and whiskey. Deacon always smelled like cinnamon and soap. Clean, fresh, and spicy. Just the way she liked it.
Hannah shook her head, then widened her eyes when the room continued to bounce around her vision. “Nope,” she finally answered, popping the p as the world righted itself again. “Don’t dance. Buffalo problems.”
Cowboy Man quirked an eyebrow, but Hannah shrugged it off.
Glancing around, she wondered where Sherry and Arabella had disappeared to. Or that nice bodyguard, Tony. She hoped they were paying attention, as she’d had a rather successful round this time. Much better than the men she’d praised for their neatly trimmed nose hair and prominent clavicles, and so far, she’d yet to bring up the fact that bar stools were probably covered in feces and sperm, since most people didn’t wash their hands. Eck. Nope, this time, she’d made some minor adjustments to the game plan and skipped the compliment and random factoid portion altogether.
Now…now she was ready for a nap.
Cowboy Man regrouped and took her hand. “Don’t worry, sugar. I can dance real well, so you can just hold on to me. I’ll take good care of you.” Then, smelling that wrong smell of his, he tightened his grip and tried dragging her onto the dance floor.
Hannah shook her head again and tugged back. “No, thank you,” she told him with a frown. She was ready to go home. She’d managed to avoid embarrassing herself, so tonight’s lesson should be complete. “I appreciate the offer, but I’d like to go back to my friends.”
“Aw, come on, honey,” he urged, getting a bit forceful now. “Just one little dance.”
Hannah dug in her heels, but they sort of just slid across the tacky ground. She wind-milled her free arm to keep from losing her balance, prepared to hit the nasty floor covered in who-knew-what—but she never fell. Instead, a strong arm suddenly wrapped around her waist and yanked her back against a solid, muscular chest.
Cinnamon and soap flooded her senses. “I believe the lady said she wasn’t interested.”
The body supporting her weight was coiled tight with aggression, but Hannah wasn’t worried. On the contrary, she’d never felt safer in her life. This was Deacon, after all, and this was what he did. He saved her and made everything better.
With a pat of his firm chest, she mused aloud, “My Superman.”
Cowboy Man scowled, and his eyes locked on the arm slung low around her waist.
For the span of a heartbeat, Hannah thought he was going to argue, or challenge Deacon to an old-fashioned barroom brawl. But that could’ve been the alcohol swimming in her veins. In the end, he just sucked his teeth and shook his head, finally forcing a smile onto his face. A wise move when confronted with an angry Deacon.
“Fair enough.” He took a step back, his hard jaw and stiff posture saying what his words didn’t. “Y’all have a nice night.”
With a tip of his hat, he turned on his boots and disappeared into the crowd. Hannah exhaled in relief. That could’ve gotten rather sticky. Then Tony materialized in front of them, Sherry and Arabella on either side, and the gang was back together. “My friends!”
The bodyguard shot her a glance, then stared grimly over Hannah’s head. “I had my eye on her,” he told Deacon. “I was seconds away from stepping in myself.”
“Guys, I’m sure he was harmless,” Sherry cut in, sending Hannah a sympathetic smile. “Our girl had it under control.” But when her gaze switched over to Deacon, she winced a little. “We just wanted her to have some fun. I had no idea she had such a low tolerance.”
A grunt came from behind her, and Deacon turned Hannah in his arms. Again, she tried for her usual bright, sunny smile, and again, it felt like her lips had been replaced with rubber. She gave him one anyway, and he groaned.
Eyes on her, Deacon’s expression shifted from one of frustration, to one of amusement, before finally settling on something sweeter. Something much more tender.
Something that made her heart flutter like crazy.
Pulling her close again, Deacon tucked Hannah into his body. He raised his chin at Tony. “I’ll get her home. Why don’t you three take the Uber I have waiting outside?”
Hannah smiled, liking that plan, and snuggled deeper in his hold. Whereas she’d been as eager as a beaver to head home a minute ago, she was more than happy to hang back if it meant one-on-one time with Deacon. Especially now that she had a few tools in her bucket, courtesy of her beloved Flirt Squad.
Arabella and Sherry exchanged a grin, and Ella shot her a wink. Trying to play it cool, Hannah wished them both a good night and thanked Tony for his escort—but she didn’t budge from where she stood. Nope, she was content to stay right where she was, forever if she could. In a crowded, hazy nightclub somewhere in West Virginia, with her head over Deacon’s heart and his arms holding her close.
Unfortunately, he had other plans. Shifting her back, Deacon nudged her chin up with his knuckle and looked her over with concern. “You okay there, sweetheart?”
Hannah nodded, knowing he was asking about the scene he’d walked in on. “I’m good.”
She wished she could tell him just how good she was. He’d come for her, just as she would always come for him. They were bonded that way. A team. If only he’d open his stupid eyes and see what was in front of him, everything would be perfect.
Deacon studied her for another moment, that same almost tender smile from earlier curving his mouth. “Why don’t we grab a table and hang out for a while.”
It was a statement, not a question, and it was music to her ears.
Hannah bit her lip and nodded, but felt it pertinent to add, “But no more drinking.”
Deacon laughed and took hold of her shoulders in his large hands, jostling her gently while he steered her toward the back of the club. “Only water, darlin’.”
Grinning, she let him lead her to a section a bit more private than the crowded bar, a bit more intimate, and went back over Sherry’s flirting tips in her mind.
Prepare yourself, Superman. Cherry’s about to make her move.