Yeah, no. He didn’t get to do that. Ever.
“How many have I had?” she asked the waitress.
She opened her mouth, but he beat her to answer. “Six.”
Kel glanced at the waitress, who nodded in agreement.
Damn.
She’d been hoping it had been five.
Six drinks was her limit, but not because Tanner had declared it. Six was her limit because seven meant she’d go from the life of the party to the puker of the party, and that was not a role she wanted to play.
“I’m done,” she told the waitress, “but not because this asshole ordered it. I’m done because I don’t want to upchuck at my brother’s celebration.”
The waitress nodded, lips twitching. “Seems like a good call.”
Kels reached into her pocket and pulled out another hundred. “Thanks for being awesome. Water from here on out.”
“You don’t have—” The waitress tried to hand the money back, but Kelsey took her fingers and closed them around the bill.
“Next night off, enjoy a few drinks of your choice on me.”
A beat of hesitation before she nodded and shoved the bill in her apron pocket. Then she made her away around the table, checking glasses and bringing more chips before announcing the entrees would be out any minute.
And all the while Tan stood by Kelsey’s chair.
Since she’d chugged the previous, she made sure to savor this one. So freaking delicious—tart but sweet and cold enough that it slid down her throat with nary a burn.
Hence the reason she could suck them back like glasses of water, but also the reason they seemed to sneak up on her, if her spinning head was any indication. She grabbed a handful of chips, ignoring Tanner’s glowering presence at her shoulder.
“Trying to kill yourself?” he muttered.
She glanced up at him sweetly. “Hi, Tanner. Lovely to see you. Hope your worldly travels have been fantastic.” A beat. “Now, kindly travel your ass over to the other side of the table and leave me alone.”
Fire in his eyes.
And not the good kind.
The lashing out, stinging type she’d felt that night nine years ago. The kind of verbal laceration that someone never forgot.
Or at least, she hadn’t.
Her stomach clenched, preparing herself for the hit.
“Glad to see you haven’t changed.”
She’d had practice with this, dealing with asshole men of all sizes and shapes, so she knew she revealed nothing. Kelsey had grown up in a lot of ways over the years, but the biggest of which was getting really good at hiding her pain.
Tanner had taught her that.
How to pretend everything was perfect and amazing, even while her world was collapsing around her.
“Thank you,” she said. “I hate to think I had gray hairs and wrinkles already.”
Lame.
Not that she had any gray hairs, or visible ones anyway, because her stylist had her back and dyed those little fuckers immediately upon appearance.
He opened his mouth, but she managed to fake a little better. “I have, however, grown out of obsessing over the Jonas Brothers, even if I do love their new music. Prince Harry”—she put her hands over her heart—“he’ll always be part of me here.”
Bas nudged her shoulder, and she could have kissed him for his perfect timing. “Stop waxing poetic about your princely love and pass me the chips.”
She scooped up a handful and plunked them on her plate before doing her sisterly duty and relinquishing the chips. “You know how much I love you, right?” she said, sufficiently drunk enough to move on from self-hate and diving right into the life-of-the-party stage. Which basically meant she teased and then enjoyed being teased back. Luckily, the parties involved—perhaps with the lone exception of Tanner—thought she was hilarious in this state. Apparently, it was the only time she let loose enough to not get her tender feelings hurt over said teasing.
Which may or may not be true.
Fine, it probably was true because she did like to dish it out, but often had a hard time taking it. Not fair, she knew, but Kels was well aware she wasn’t perfect.
“Just saying, only the best sister in your family would be nice enough to offer you their chips.”
“You’re my only sister.”
“Details, details.”
Bas smirked. “Also, pretty sure they’re the table’s chips.”
She shook her head. “Personal baskets.”
“What?”
“There are ten baskets and ten of us,” she said. “Hence, personal baskets.” Oh, look. Her drink was right there. She might as well finish it. But when she went to lift it to her lips, Tanner was there, arms crossed and glaring down at her.
“There are not—”
Bas broke off, probably counting.
Meanwhile, she turned to Tanner and matched his glare, though his higher position meant she had to glare up, while he got to glare down, and everyone knew that glaring down was the better strategic position.
Tan opened his mouth, and Kelsey realized she really was drunker than she’d realized. Her normal mental tangents and taken her down a few very strange rabbit holes in the last minutes.
Personal baskets of chips.
Yikes. Time for some water.
She set the margarita down, feeling sad for wasting the deliciousness of the prickly pear, and picked up the glass of water.
“You know that cocktail doesn’t have actual feelings, right?”
“Why are you still here?” she snapped.
Uh-oh.
Tanner’s expression went deadly, but she’d drunk enough that her normally meager filters were gone. Finished. Done-zo.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” she said. “You didn’t want me then, so you don’t get to talk to me now.”
The table had been loud and raucous up until the moment she said that, or rather yelled it. But all night, the restaurant had been beyond noisy, music blaring, people chatting and laughing, plates and silverware clanking. Yet, the moment those words crossed her lips, silence reigned. The music was between songs, conversations had lulled, and everyone heard that Tanner hadn’t wanted her.
Everyone.
Including Bas.
Her brother’s face clouded. “What did you say?”
She stifled a curse, the buzz of alcohol creeping away from the edges of her mind and letting soberness claw its way in. If she’d thought Tanner’s glare had been deadly before, now it was positively nuclear.
Fuck.
Her laugh was forced and loud. “I’m kidding,” she said, shoving Tanner’s arm. It made her head spin, and that was only the alcohol talking, definitely not the fact that the contact had sent tingles up her arm. “Oh, look!” she announced at large. “Food’s here! Thank goodness. Those margaritas are deadly.”
More laughter, awkward on her part, gentle on the part of her soon-to-be sister-in-law’s friends.
The Sextant, as they’d dubbed themselves—and they were fully aware that wasn’t the proper term for a group of six, but apparently too much wine at book club had led to them googling while intoxicated and misnaming themselves. Still, it had stuck, and Kels had even gone to a few of their so-called book clubs. They were fun, beautiful women both inside and out.