help line up her next throw, it took everything Marc had not to do some lining up of his own.
“I’m her Friday after next,” the investment banker bragged, swirling his glass of cabernet. “Got tickets to see Phantom of the Opera in the city. Also booked a room at the Fairmont. Just in case it gets late.”
“I hope they’re refundable,” Marc muttered, dropping a ten on the table for his drink and a text to ChiChi about inviting Pricilla and her granddaughter to their family dinner that Friday.
Lexi, out of darts, said something to her date and then disappeared down the hall in the direction of the ladies’ room. Vince flagged down the waitress to place another order, his grin a little too confident for Marc’s liking.
Marc made his way through the bar, saying “hey” more times than he wished since everyone knew everyone here, and glanced out the window. He took one look at Vince’s car and smiled. Not only did it serve as a public service announcement to women everywhere that the man needed help in the form of a little blue pill, it also sagged drastically to the right.
“Hey, Vince, hate to interrupt,” Marc lied, taking him by the shoulder and pointing toward the front window. “But I think some idiots were out there messing with your car.”
Actually, it was only one idiot. And he was digging himself in deeper when it came to Lexi, because no matter how many times Marc told himself to keep a safe distance, there he was, repeating history and inserting himself between Lexi and another man. Only this time he wasn’t sure that he would be satisfied staying stuck in the friendly middle.
“What the—” Vince didn’t even wait for Lexi to return before going off to check on his car. He exited the bar, letting loose a whole lot of questionable language when he saw exactly how flat his right-side tires were. Even flatter than Marc had intended.
Marc followed him outside. “You got a jack?” He knew damn well that a Mercedes SLR wasn’t the kind of car you just up and change the tire for. Not to mention Vince wasn’t the kind of guy to even know where the jack was, should he have one. “Otherwise it might start to bend the rims.”
“Shit.” Vince was on it, frantically reaching for his phone while trying to use the weight of his body to push against the car and lift it a little—his drunk and sexy date no longer even registering on his list of things to think about.
Marc crossed his arms and leaned back against the right side of the car next to Vince, going for casual and pretending to do his part to help. The Benz groaned under the pressure. So did Vince when the shop said it would take fifteen minutes to get there.
“How about you stay here and wait for the guy while I go fetch your date for you?” When Vince looked up confused, Marc jutted his chin toward the window. Inside, Lexi had returned. So had the waitress. Lexi tossed her blonde curls over her shoulder and the shot of tequila down her throat.
“She must be a handful. I’ve never seen her drink like this.” Marc patted Vince on the back before heading toward the door. He reached for the handle and paused. “You know, if you want, I can take her home. It’d be no problem to drop her off on my way to the hotel.”
Vince hesitated, watching Lexi bend over and line up her next shot. Her silky number rode up her back, and the dart flew right past the board, taking out a beer mug on a nearby table.
“You know what, never mind. I wouldn’t want to ruin your fun. So I’ll go keep her company while you wait for your guy. I’ll even make sure the bartender gives her a plastic bag—just in case.”
Marc stepped inside, smiling when Vince called after him, “No. You’re right. She’s having fun, and I have to get this taken care of.” He nodded to his car. “Tell her I’m sorry and I’ll make it up to her.”
“You got it,” Marc said over his shoulder, and then lower, “and good luck with that.”
The guy was a bigger dumb-ass that Marc originally thought if he assumed he’d get a second chance like the one he’d just blown. No, Lexi wasn’t one to get drunk—often—and Vince wouldn’t get another date with her. Marc would make sure of that.