“Uh-huh.” She took another bite of her burger. “That’s why guys are such dickheads. They get you off and then get you fired,” she mumbled around a full mouth. Then she downed the rest of her martini. “I need more.”
“I’ll get you some water.”
“I don’t want—” She turned to look at Sasha. “He just walked away.”
“Eat your burger. Then he might fix you another martini.”
Cassie was swallowing another bite when Chip walked over with her water. She frowned but didn’t argue. She ate about half of her burger and rings and drank all of her water. “Chiiiiip,” Cassie called out. He walked over to her. “I-I finished my food and my water. I want c’nother martini now. Sasha drives me home tonight.”
“How about I make you a martini and you tell me about your week?”
She grudgingly nodded. She didn’t really want to rehash everything, but if it got her more alcohol, she’d comply.
Chip walked back over, handing Cassie her drink. “I even put extra olives in it for you.”
“Oooh, yummy. I love olives.” She immediately started eating them as Chip mumbled something to Sasha about some virgin something-or-other.
“So tell me about your week,” he pressed.
Cassie mumbled the tale, stumbling through the details, and leaned on Sasha to help fill in when she either got too tired or too confused to continue. This alcohol stuff was great but really messed with her concentration. By the time she’d finished, she was crashing from her buzz. Oh, she was drunk as a skunk, but reliving the nightmare of this past week was a major downer. She laid her head on the bar, trying to fight the emotions coming over her. When Chip stroked her hair, she had to fight the tears. His touch was so gentle.
And so real.
There wasn’t a computer monitor or a phone screen between them. She needed to get out of here before she did something she’d regret. Leaving her head on the bar, Cassie turned to Sasha. “I’m ready to go home now. Can you pull the car up to the door, so I don’t have to walk far?”
“Sure thing, girl.”
Sasha hopped down, and Cassie sat up, the sudden movement making her bladder scream. How many drinks did she have anyway? She slid off the stool and realized she didn’t remember how to work her feet. It was a strange feeling knowing she was too drunk to walk but thinking she could pretend she was fine. She looked up at Chip, and he had a concerned look on his face, arms braced as if he were ready to run around to her. “Where’s the bathroom?”
“It’s down the hall.” He pointed to the left, and Cassie mentally gauged the three hundred miles she’d have to walk to get there. She looked at Chip again.
“Can you help me?”
“Sure. Stay right there.” He walked over to her and wrapped his arm around her waist. “C’mon, babe.” He gently walked her to the bathroom and helped her in. Then he stood outside while she took care of her business. When she was finished, he helped her out. “I’m sorry you had such a bad week,” he whispered.
Cassie stopped and looked up at him. They stared at each other in the narrow hall, the music muffled by the doors blocking the entrance. She reached up and stroked his cheek, which went hard as he gritted his teeth. She knew this wasn’t the man she loved. She just wanted someone to take the pain away.
Leaning up, she brushed her lips across his. When he didn’t open for her, she licked the seam, probing for entry. He groaned, opening up for her invasion. After a few seconds, he slid his hands into her hair and kissed her back. When Cassie shut her eyes, it wasn’t Chip she saw. It wasn’t Chip who kissed her so passionately. And it wasn’t Chip she wrapped her arms around and clung to.
He broke away, gasping into her hair. “Cassie, babe, you’re hurting, and you’re drunk. I can’t take advantage of your vulnerability like that. Not like this.” He pulled away and guided her out of the bar and helped her into the car.
Why couldn’t she have fallen in love with Chip? He was a good guy. He didn’t want to hurt her. He was obviously attracted to her, but he put her needs above his own.
And yet she tried to use him to take away the pain of what Ian had done to her.
How did that make her any better than Ian?
Chapter Eleven
The world looked different when one was hungover. The soft light filtering in through the curtains felt like looking directly into the blazing sun. The birds chirping merrily sounded like hawks screeching while in attack mode, circling their prey.
Cassie didn’t remember much after her third martini. Why did her breath smell like onions? She should’ve stuck with ice cream and pretzels. She crawled out of bed, her back howling in protest as she tried to move. She had to brush her teeth. If she continued to taste onions, she’d puke.
She just might puke anyway.
Holy crap, she looked like a horror beauty queen. Her hair was stuck to the side of her face, and mascara ran halfway down her cheeks. She quickly brushed her teeth, trying to ignore her revolting stomach. Then she crept to the shower to clean up the mess that was her face and hair. Too bad she couldn’t find an easy fix to clean up her life. Thank God her head was pounding too much for her to continue down that train of thought.
When she got dressed, she decided to take advantage of it being Saturday and go clean out her desk. The only time anyone worked on the weekends was during major deadlines or kissing up for promotions. She highly doubted anybody was feeling overly eager to put in extra time nowadays.
She stopped for coffee because she needed some serious caffeine and called Sasha to get the skinny
