Bad Things (Tristan & Danika #1) (15 page)

Everyone raised an eager hand in the air, except for Bev and Lucy, apparently the only ones who had my back.

I continued, even knowing I’d lost.
 
It wasn’t in my nature to just give up.
 
“Who votes we keep our girls’ night how God intended it, girls only?”

Me, Bev, and Lucy raised our hands.
 
I didn’t know if I wanted to laugh or kick him when I saw that Tristan was raising a hand.
 
He knew that he had enough votes, even if he voted with me, the smug bastard.

And so he stayed, chatting up the ladies until nearly three in the morning.
 

Aside from the sting of losing a bet, I thoroughly enjoyed having him there.
 

He was funny, and charming, and for whatever reason, he gently deflected Candy, and then Harriet’s subtle, and not so subtle come-ons.
 

Lucy shot me a few concerned glances in the beginning, but in the end, even she was charmed by Tristan’s playful personality.
 

“You know, we usually call it a night by ten, eleven tops,” I told Tristan, as he helped me clean up after all of the women had left.
 
He’d even managed to shoo Bev off to bed, not letting her help with cleanup.
 
She’d had enough of her own strong cocktails to take him up on the offer gratefully.

“Did I corrupt your friends?” he asked with a shameless smile.
 

A corner of my mouth kicked up ruefully.
 
“Not as badly as you’re corrupting me.
 
I don’t do the dirty Vegas club scene.”

“I think I understand you a little better now, after meeting your friends. You’re like a forty-five year old, trapped inside of a hot, twenty-one year old body.
 
That might be why you can never really cut loose and just let go.”

I took exception to that.
 
“I cut loose all the time.
 
We’ve been out dancing every night this week.
 
What do you call that?”

He pursed his lips, which drew my traitorous eyes to them, even in a bit of a pique.
 
“It’s true you can dance.
 
God, can you dance.
 
And you’re certainly able to go out and have a good time, but that just isn’t the same as letting go.
 
Even drunk until you feel pretty, you seem to stay in control every single second.
 
I’ve yet to see you have a twenty-one year old moment.”
 

“Well, excuse me for not being a total slutbag, like half of the twenties crowd in Vegas.”

“It’s probably a lot more than half…” he mused.

“Well, it isn’t me.
 
If that’s your idea of letting go, I think I’m just fine how I am.”

“I wasn’t trying to offend you,” he said in his most conciliatory tone.
 
“And I absolutely don’t mean that you should be sleeping around.
 
I don’t know how to put it into words, but I’d just like to see you acting carefree sometimes.”
 

I stewed about that for a bit, as we finished cleaning up.
 

Perhaps he has a point
, I thought.
 

I’d had an aimless sort of existence, growing up.
 
My mother, a slave to the illness of addiction, had only ever lived in the present, which, I supposed, was why I had my eye determinedly on the future, which I knew was not the typical frame of mind for a twenty-one year old.
 

My sister and I had been tossed around ruthlessly by our mother’s fickle way of life.
 
She’d been so negligent that, in our teenage years, when she’d disappeared for a solid two weeks, social services had been alerted, which had led to an unfortunate turn of events.
 
I had been so powerless, back then.

But not anymore.
 
Nowadays, I had my own fate well in hand.

“Are you stewing about the bet you lost?
 
Going to miss keeping that big, soft bed all to yourself?
 
I’ll bet you’re a cover hog.”

I rolled my eyes at him, but I couldn’t contain my grin.
 
I knew I should have been more worried about the fact that we were going to be sharing a bed, but I just wasn’t.
 
It was strange for me, especially considering we’d only known each other a week, but I trusted him.
 

It wasn’t
his
fault that I was wildly attracted to him.
 

“I’m stewing about the fact that I won’t get to see you wearing one of my bikinis,” I shot back.
 

He laughed.
 
“There’s always the next bet.”
 

We found ourselves out by the pool, past four in the morning, just lounging and talking.
 
I thought that might have been my favorite thing of all about Tristan
—
that we could just talk forever, about everything, about nothing.
 
There was never an awkward silence to be found.
 

“So tell me about this band.
 
I know you’re the lead singer, and I know what instruments you all play.
 
Tell me the rest.”

He snagged one of my bare feet.
 
I started to kick him off, thinking that he was going to tickle me, but he didn’t, just rubbing at the arch.
 
It felt so good that my eyes practically rolled up into the back of my head.
 

“God, your hands,” I moaned.
 
“You are so good at that.”
 

“I aim to please.
 
What do you want to know?”

“What are you called?
 
Who writes the songs?
 
When can I see you perform?”
 

“The band is called The Escapists.
 
Kenny writes all of the songs, composes all of the music.
 
This band was his baby from the start.
 
We’ve all been friends since the fifth grade, but I was the last to join up.
 
They needed a singer, and I can carry a tune.”

“You make it sound like you aren’t that into it.”

“I am.
 
Now.
 
To be honest, I wasn’t at first, but the guys changed my mind.
 
I think we have a shot at making it.”

“Why do you call yourselves The Escapists?”

“It was the only name we could all agree on.
 
I think it has a different meaning for us all.
 
It makes me think of magic, which is why I liked it.
 
Kenny relates to it because songwriting is his way to escape.
 
It’s his passion.
 
The rest of the guys, hell, who knows, probably a drug reference for them.
 
But regardless, the name just seemed to fit us all.”

“What were you planning to do before you got started with the band?
 
Did you go to college or anything?”

“I didn’t.
 
I was a bartender for a long time, and then I got into the whole club promoting thing, which has turned out to be lucrative for me.”

“What about your card tricks?
 
You live in Vegas, and you’re obviously talented.
 
I’m surprised you didn’t pursue something with that.”

He sighed, looking vaguely uncomfortable.
 
“I did.
 
For years, I did.
 
That’s not something you can get into without some connections.
 
Connections I didn’t have.
 
Everyone in town can do card tricks.”

“Not like you.”

“Well, thank you for that, but any talent I have wasn’t enough,” he said, switching to rub my other foot.
 
“It’s just a hobby, since I’ve found out very clearly that there’s no money in it for me.”

“That’s a pity.
 
I’ve seen some of the shows on the strip.
 
You could’ve given some of those old guys a run for their money.”

He laughed.
 

“So when do I get to see the band perform?”

“We should have a gig soon.
 
Dean is supposed to be putting a few together, but I don’t have any specifics.
 
You’ll know about it when I do.”

“You promise?”

“I promise, pudding.”

I grimaced.
 
“Don’t call me that.”

He just laughed harder.
 
“You told me you might say that, and that I shouldn’t listen to you.”

“I know, but I didn’t mean it.”

“I think I’ll listen to drunk you, since she claims to like me more.”

I threw my hands in the air, giving up, standing up, and walking inside.
 

“I’m going to bed,” I told him.
 

I felt him directly at my back all the way to my room.

“Me too, pudding.”

I shut the bathroom door in his face, or I’d swear he would have followed me in there, too.
 

I made sure he got his own set of covers, and set a pillow pointedly between us on the queen sized bed.
 
He didn’t try to stop me, thank God.
 

“Goodnight, boo,” he said quietly, as we lay in the dark, backs facing each other.

“Goodnight, Tristan,” I said just as quietly, closing my eyes.

I felt a hand on my belly, and stiffened.
 

Oh no
, I thought, caught somewhere between a dream and waking thoughts.
 

Please no, not again
.
 

The hand began to inch down, and I whimpered, instantly feeling terrorized, because this had happened too many times to count, and I’d thought it was over forever now.

The hand disappeared at my whimper.

“Fuck.
 
I’m so sorry, boo,” Tristan said sleepily, kissing the top of my head, before he rolled over on his other side, facing away from me.
 

The instant I realized it was Tristan, I felt a wave of nearly overwhelming relief.
 
That relief made me realize how profoundly I already trusted this man.
 
We’d known each other for so short a time, but already I knew with certainty that he would never hurt me.
 

I rolled over, pressing my face into his back, happy to have him there
—
a comfort to me, rather than a terror.
 

CHAPTER TWELVE

We were hitting the club again the next night.
 
We were out the door nearly the second after I’d put the boys to bed.
 

Tristan’s friend Cory was pulling a shift at the Cavendish resort, and so we got decked out again.
 

We drank too much, and danced for hours, before changing into swimsuits and taking a swim in the warm pool beside the bar Cory was working.
 

Some brunette with huge fake boobs brushed against Tristan in the water, giving him a very bold look as we passed her.
 

I rolled my eyes.
 
“So you’re hot.
 
That doesn’t give her the right to act like a cat in heat about it.”

“So you think I’m hot?” Tristan asked, letting those infuriating dimples do their worst.

I shrugged, giving him my steadiest eye contact.
 
I could hide my drunk with the best of them.
 
“You aren’t much to look at,” I said with a straight face.
 

He threw his head back and laughed, enjoying my sarcastic sense of humor, as always.
 
It was one of my favorite things about him.

“You aren’t much to look at,” I said again, when he was done laughing, and just back to giving me a dangerously fond smile.
 
“But your personality makes up for it, mostly.”

He tugged on my hair, still grinning.
 
“You are so damned cute.”
 

I gave a heavy sigh.
 
“Yes, I’m very cute.
 
Adorable, really.
 
I’m sorry you’ll only ever know what it’s like to have a cute
personality
.”

He was laughing so hard by the time I’d finished that he was doubled over.
 
I thought that I’d never wanted to kiss anyone so badly in my life.
 
I restrained myself, just smiling affectionately at him as he straightened.
 

“Where have you been all my life, Danika?”
 

“Not skanking it up in enough bars to find you, apparently.
 
Silly me, spending all my time working or at school.”

“Silly you,” he said softly, touching my chin.
 
“Didn’t you know I was out here, just waiting for a friend like you?”

My heart did a slow, painful turn in my chest.
 
It was pathetic how easily he had me wrapped around his little finger.
 
“Of course I didn’t know.
 
I’d have been dancing on top of every bar in town, instead of studying, if I’d known that.”

He didn’t laugh, as I’d intended, but leaned in close.
 
“Tell me not to kiss you,” he said, when his lips were a breath away from mine.
 

“Don’t kiss me,” I told him, my voice a breathless rasp.
 

“Mean it,” he said, crowding me into the corner of the pool.
 

He tilted my chin up with his finger.
 

“I can’t,” I gasped.
 

The words had barely left my lips before he was kissing me.
 

I’d have been lying if I didn’t admit that I’d spent a lot of time wondering what it would be like to kiss him, and even with all of the fantasizing, he didn’t disappoint.

His kisses were drugging, his mouth hot and demanding, but his hands were gentle as he buried them in my hair.