Page 23 of House of Wolves
The waitress tells us our food will be right out, and then it’s just Brick and I alone again. The alcohol must be calming his nerves because now, instead of scanning his eyes around the restaurant, he glues them to me. It’s completely unfair since I’m stone-cold sober and feel every inch of his gaze. While I have his attention, though, I might as well make the best of it. I push out my tits and lean slightly over the table, lazily dragging my finger in a circle on the white tablecloth. “Sorry if I seem tense tonight,” I say, staring at my hands and fluttering my eyelashes.
“Oh.” It’s quick, but his eyes dart to my cleavage and then back to my eyes.Yes, my charms are working.
I sigh, “Yeah, it’s just this girl that I used to babysit when I was in high school, Josie. She will be home alone tonight and refuses to let anyone stay with her.” He doesn’t say anything, so I go on. “I’m so worried that she’s going to be the next girl kidnapped or worse.” This part isn’t that hard to act. I am truly worried for all these girls, even if Josie isn’t home alone tonight or anywhere near her secluded home in the woods.
Brick brings his drink up to his lips. “Can’t you send some people to watch her house?” It’s a good question, potentially a plot hole in my made-up story. My brain scrambles for a lie.
“Everyone’s busy scouting the other young women’s houses. Josie was adamant that she doesn’t want anyone babysitting her and for the pack to use their resources on someone else.” Whether it’s the alcohol or my tits, the lie doesn’t send off Brick’s alarms. He stares at me, leaning forward, a hungry look in his eyes as he traces the rim of his near-empty glass.
I smile and tuck a strand behind my ear. This is the exact reaction I wanted out of him, but I can’t deny the moment's intensity. It takes me off guard, and I have no choice but to flush. My nerves seem to knock Brick out of his trance. He muttersfuckunder his breath, so subtly, but I’m watching him too closely to miss it. He downs the rest of his drink right as the waitress brings him his next one and takes a sip from the fresh glass. He looks to the side, annoyance written across his face.
“Wow, what is that, your fourth?” I ask, unable to hide the twinge of annoyance in my voice.
He furrows his brow, examining his drink. “I’m not sure. I don’t normally drink.”
“You don’t normally drink?”
“No,” he says in an annoyed tone. Either he’s a mythical being who can’t get drunk, or he will be obliterated any second now. God, he must fucking hate me if he must turn into an alcoholic to be in my presence. I want to punch him in his stupid stone-cold face, but instead, I pop to my feet. “I need to use the restroom.” I turn away from the table. I planned to drop the fake information and then give him some time alone so he could text the Hunters about Josie. This is as good a time as any. I don’t know if he’ll be too drunk to do it or if he even believed my half-ass story. I'd never forgive myself if this stupid date was all for nothing.
When I return to the table, my fury is contained after a few soothing breaths in the mirror. The food has arrived, and Brick is already going to town on his chicken parmesan. Red sauce is smeared over his face, and he barely looks up at me as he shovels the food into his mouth.
“I love coming back to the bathroom to find my meal,” I say, unfolding a napkin and placing it over my lap.
He darts his eyes to mine for a second, nodding before taking a big chug of his fresh drink. This waitress seriously needs to cut him off. “This is really fucking good,” he says, his words slur with a mouth full of food.Oh no.Here goes his decline. I’m not in the mood to take care of a completely inebriated, enormous man. I’ve had my fill of idiots for a lifetime. I’m starting to doubt he fell for my trap and texted the Hunters. Oh well, new plan. Convince his drunk-ass to give me information.
I take a bite of my food, watching him carefully. A smile lines his face between every bite, and his eyes shine. I’ve never seen him so happy. Who knew that a chicken parmesan could make him a more pleasant person? Or more likely, the swift shift has more to do with the excessive amount of alcohol running through his system. “I’m serious! This is so fucking good.” He leans in as if to tell me a secret. “What do you think they put in this stuff? Is yours as good as mine? Let me try a bite.” Before I can stop him, he snags a piece of my chicken with his fork, bringing it to his mouth. His eyes grow wide as he chews. “Okay, no. Yours is so much fucking better.” He stills for a moment, his smile fading. “Holy shit, are you beautiful.”
I gasp with a laugh, taken off guard by his words. “Okay, buddy. I think that’s enough scotch for you.” I reach over and pull the cup away from him.
He grabs my wrist. “No, seriously. Have you seen yourself?”
I give a clenched-lip smile. “Thank you, Bryce. Is this your way of repaying me for the comment in the office?”
He grabs his face with both hands. “God, I’m an idiot. Why would I ever be mean to you?” He leans over; his head now rests on the tablecloth. “I know why I’m a dick to you, but I don’t want to be. You’re just so pretty. It’s your smell. God, your smell, it makes me so angry.”
“Okay,” I say. So much for liking drunk Brick for a minuscule of a second. I catch the waitress with my eyes, motioning to the food as a silent plea to get us boxes so we can get the hell out of here.
She must have experience with drunk men because she scoops our food up, drops the bill, swipes my card, and gets us out of the restaurant in a matter of minutes. Brick is declining, and I have to hold him up as we walk to his car. He’s fucking heavy. I can lift a car over my head, barely breaking a sweat, but something about this man dulls my powers. That, or whatever he is so much more powerful than I am, and that’s something I don’t want to consider.
I’m able to shove his huge body into his passenger side and buckle him in. He starts giggling again as I drive down the road. I keep glancing at him, amazed at how his usual dominating presence can morph into such a docile drunk. Thank God, because if he turned violent, I could be in serious trouble.
“Shit,” I mutter to myself once I realize I have no idea where Brick lives. I shake his arm. He jolts, banging his head against the window. “Huh?” He sits up straight.
“Where do you live?”
He laughs. “At my house, duh.”
“Okay, I don’t know where that is.”
“Why? I know everything about you?”
“You know everything about me?”
He giggles. “Of course. I know you bought your two-bedroom house four years ago for two hundred fifteen thousand dollars.” So, the man knows how to look up housing records. Weird, but he could have just been researching me before our date.
“Okay, well, I’m not a creep, so I did not look you up.” Honestly, it’s surprising I never did, but I’ve been too busy researching other Hunters over the years.
He turns to me, frowning. “It’s probably because you hate me.”
