What I Need

by J. Daniels

  CJ is hot.

  Really hot.

  From the neck down he’s got it going on, and from the neck up?

  God. It’s almost unfair.

  Short, light brown hair that has tints of auburn in it, styled but sort of messy in the front and sticking up a little. Straight nose. High cheek bones. Chiseled jaw. A thick five o’clock shadow reaching down his neck, making him look all rough and tough.

  And . . . huh, he’s staring at me. Why is he staring at me?

  Maybe he’s been arguing with someone too and forgot I was coming to this?

  He jerks forward slightly, mumbling a “hey,” that sounds as tense and unprepared for this as I feel, then clears his throat and offers out his hand. “Sorry. I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m CJ. I’ll be your partner in crime at this shindig tomorrow.” He furrows his brow, squints, and looks down with his hand still extended. “Did I really just use a cop reference?” he murmurs.

  “Yep,” Luke laughs, tilting his head up and smiling big. He throws his arm around Tessa. “Real smooth too.”

  I look back at CJ and take his hand, realizing he’s likely to drop it soon if I don’t take it.

  And since it would be rude not to take it, I take it. That’s the only reason. There is nothing else driving me. Not the urge to feel his hands or have him touch me the slightest bit.

  Nope. That’s not part of the reason at all.

  “Hi,” I reply softly, feeling the need to offer up an early explanation for what he should expect out of me during this weekend’s festivities. “Sorry, but I’m probably going to be a raging bitch at this thing tomorrow. Don’t take it personal,” I tell him.

  He smiles, half of his mouth lifting up in this adorably sexy way, gives my hand a gentle squeeze, then releases it and steps back, shoving his hands into his pockets.

  “Sure thing, darlin’.”

  I feel my eyes flicker wider.

  Darlin’? Did CJ Tully just darlin’ me?

  Is this really happening right now? Am I imagining things or did anyone else hear that?

  “What?”

  I turn my head at the sound of Reed’s sharp, irritated voice, and watch him glare at CJ.

  Oh yeah. He did. CJ darlin’d me. Reed heard it so that totally just happened.

  Huh. I’m not sure what to make of this.

  Reed’s glare slides off CJ and hits me straight on. “Why are you going to be a raging bitch tomorrow? What’s wrong with you?” he asks me.

  My anger reawakens. I forget about just getting nicknamed and refocus my attention onto the one person on the entire planet I’m most frustrated with.

  “You know exactly what’s wrong with me,” I snap, irritated I even have to explain myself to him.

  Stupid.

  “Don’t play dumb, Reed,” I add.

  “He’s not,” Ben throws out on a chuckle.

  I turn my head and watch Ben push to his feet, announcing as he looks toward the dance floor, “I’m going to take Nolan to the restroom. He’s doing a different kind of dance now.”

  Luke follows. “I’ll join you.”

  The two of them disappear through the crowd.

  My gaze lands briefly on CJ. I’m expecting him to step away also and avoid the drama unfolding in front of him.

  He doesn’t.

  He stands there, not smiling anymore, but he is watching me.

  No one else. Not any of his friends or the other people in the crowd.

  Me.

  What’s . . . happening right now?

  “Is this because of Dick?” Reed asks, drawing my head back around. “Are you really going to be pissed at me because I fired him? Come on, Riley. I did you a solid.”

  My nostrils flare. He did me a solid?

  Oh, my God. He did not just say that.

  “His name is Richard,” I hiss, hands clenching into fists and my bottom lip trembling as I turn my shoulders and square off with Reed. “And yes, I’m going to be pissed at you for firing him. And for not letting him come as my date. That was a really crappy move.”

  Reed sighs and tosses his hands into the air. “So sorry I didn’t want to pay for some ex-employee of mine to eat salmon and drink tequila shots.”

  “He doesn’t even drink tequila!” I yell. “But you know who does? Me! And guess what’s going on your tab, big brother?”

  I need to get out of here before I throw a punch. I’m angry, yes, but I’d hate to ruin Reed’s wedding photos by giving him a black eye.

  And I’m afraid it might come to that if I don’t get away from him.

  Spinning around, I make to storm off and knock straight into CJ, but I don’t let his wall of a chest stop me. No. I steady myself and keep going, marching directly for the bar.

  Tequila it is.

  “I’ll take some of that,” I announce after claiming a stool at the high top counter. I point a finger at the bottle in the bartender’s hands.

  The older man, dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and wearing three different colored leis around his neck, looks over at me, then lifts his other hand holding a blender filled with a lime green concoction.

  “A margarita?” he asks.

  “No. The tequila,” I specify. “Just set the bottle down when you’re finished with it. I’ll take it from there.”

  Laughing, he turns away and continues pouring into the blender.

  He thinks I’m kidding.

  I am definitely not kidding.

  My brother is a jerk. My ex-boyfriend is an asshole. I’ve cried way too much over the past week.

  I can totally handle a bottle of tequila right now.

  “How about you start off with a shot and see how that goes?”

  I turn my head at the sound of the deep voice next to me. CJ steps up to the bar, giving me his full attention.

  My stomach clenches. I sit up taller on my stool.

  Did he follow me over here?

  What? Why in the world would he do that? And why would I think it?

  Of course he didn’t follow me over here. He’s just thirsty. Look how big he is. He probably has to drink constantly to keep from passing out from dehydration.

  I watch CJ continue to stare at me, his eyes bright and eager as he waits expectantly for a response because . . . shit. He asked me a question. What was it? Something about drinking and going somewhere with him?

  Oh, my God . . . is that what he asked me? Does he want to take me somewhere?

  I lick my lips, swallow whatever saliva I have left as I stare into his eyes, and respond with a confused, “Huh?”

  Honestly, I just need clarification at this point. And I might be stalling.

  Can I seriously leave with him right now? That’s crazy. I don't even know him.

  Holding his beer, CJ leans into the bar, bending his elbow on the counter and putting his weight on it. He looks down at me and smiles. “I don’t know if you can handle that entire bottle, darlin’. You might want to go slow. That shit is harsh.”

  I blink.

  Darlin’.

  God. Is there anything hotter than the way he says that one word? All smooth, southern drawl and sweet to my ears.

  CJ’s chest rattles with a quiet laugh. “Are you hearing me?” he asks, tilting his head and grinning now. “You look a little lost, babe.”

  Babe.

  Shit. He needs to stop. Stop talking and smiling and looking the way he does. I haven’t even had a drink yet and I’m already considering things I should need a drink to consider.

  He makes it easy though. Really easy.

  Finding some sense, I ignore the rush of heat moving underneath my skin, tip my chin up defiantly and reply, “What makes you think I can’t handle a bottle of tequila? You have no idea what my tolerance is for alcohol.”

  “I don’t, but I’m betting you weigh a buck ten soaking wet,” he counters. “I can’t imagine a little thing like you slamming back a bottle and staying upright.”

  “I weigh a buck nineteen, actually,” I correct
him, giving him some sass with my tone and raising a finger. “And that’s not even when I’m wet.”

  My eyes go round immediately after my giant sassy mouth quits moving.

  Oh, God.

  I did not just say that. Did I?

  CJ smiles bigger, his eyes growing wider and brighter as they search my face.

  “Now there’s a sweet fucking visual,” he says, looking me up and down. “You wanna explore that topic `cause babe, I am down for that. Just say the words.”

  Annnd there’s my confirmation. I said it.

  Perfect.

  I apparently need a set of rules when being in the general vicinity of CJ Tully.

  Rule number one: Do not speak.

  Jerking my head straight, I raise up higher on my stool, lean over the counter and snap my fingers at the bartender to get his attention.

  “Hey! Tequila!” I shout.

  If there is ever a time for alcohol, it’s now. Just stick a bottle in my mouth and shut me up with it.

  The man gives me an acknowledging lift of his chin as he finishes up with another customer. I take that and settle back on my stool, watching as he moves down the bar. He grabs the bottle of Patron and pours me a shot.

  “Sorry about that. Here you go,” he says, sliding a small plate of lime wedges next to the glass. He looks at CJ. “You want something?”

  “I'm good for now, man. Thanks,” CJ replies, lifting his bottle for the man to see.

  I don’t waste any time.

  I grab the salt shaker, wet the back of my hand and sprinkle a thin layer there, then I lick it off and immediately shoot the tequila, following that up with a lime wedge I suck on until my cheeks pucker.

  “Wow,” I cough. God, that’s like breathing fire. I rub at my throat, then I remember who is standing next to me and attentively watching, judging, thinking he knows me and what I can handle, so I lower my hand to the bar and slide the glass away from me, grabbing the bartender’s attention again. “Another please?” I request. “That stuff’s just . . . the best. So smooth, you know? I could drink it all night.”

  He tops me off, eyeing me warily as CJ chuckles under his breath.

  “What? It is. I just love it,” I announce, turning my head toward the lurking doubter and flashing him a smile. “It also makes you pretty. I read that in a Texas bathroom once.”

  CJ brings his beer to his mouth and takes a slow swig, observing me while he does it. Then he lowers the bottle and lick his lips. “Not sure you need help in that department,” he says, his voice serious now. “I think you’re set on looks, babe.”

  I watch his eyes wander lower . . . and lower.

  My stomach clenches. I suddenly feel like I’m burning up.

  I quickly look away and set myself up for shot number two.

  Salt. Lime at the ready.

  Then I watch my shot go sliding out of reach when CJ pulls it in front of himself after setting down his beer.

  He keeps his fingers wrapped around the glass. Watching me. Waiting . . .

  “Are you . . . withholding my alcohol from me, Officer?” I ask, letting go of the shaker and lime wedge before swiveling a little on my stool.

  CJ’s brow lifts. “You know I’m a cop?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I’ve seen you around.”

  “Really?” He tilts his head to the side, studying me. “And how the hell did I miss you?”

  I feel my cheeks warm.

  Mm. Must be the alcohol.

  “We sort of ran into each other once. Like, literally ran into each other. I was walking into Sam’s Deli and you were heading out. You knocked into me.”

  His brows pinch together in confusion. “Are you sure about that? `Cause I’m thinking I’d remember running into you.”

  “I’m sure.”

  My one and only close encounter with CJ Tully. Not something I’d forget.

  Imagine? Yes. Possibly. But I know that isn’t the case here.

  “When was this?” he asks.

  “I don’t know. A year ago, maybe? You were taking a call on your radio. You were in a hurry. I don’t even think you looked at me. Just apologized and rushed out.” I shrug. “Don’t worry. I didn’t take it personal.”

  CJ watches me cross one leg over the other, his brow lifting appreciatively.

  “Good to know I didn’t fuck up my chances,” he murmurs.

  I blink.

  His chances? What chances? Wait. Is he talking about . . .

  CJ chuckles, picks up his beer and takes a pull of it.

  Good idea. I need more alcohol. I’m officially going nuts over here.

  Clearing my throat, I sit forward and gesture at the glass he’s still holding captive. “So, back to my drink. What’s the deal? Are you monitoring how much alcohol I consume?”

  CJ licks the beer off his lips and sets his bottle down. “Not yet. I think you can have a couple more before I need to keep my eye on you.”

  “And what are you doing right now exactly?”

  He grins, admitting, “Trying not to keep my eye on you.”

  “Well, you suck at it,” I tell him, smiling when he throws his head back with a laugh.

  Oh, that's a really nice sound.

  “Can I have my drink please?” I ask after his eyes reach mine again.

  “Answer my question first?”

  “Depends on what it is.”

  He narrows his stare and studies me for a moment while forcing a serious face, which is the exact opposite of what I’m doing.

  I’m trying to contain a smile that’s threatening to crack my cheeks wide open.

  It’s the tequila.

  Honest. It has absolutely nothing to do with his easy charm.

  CJ smirks, finally cracking. “Why were you pitching a shit fit with your brother? What was that about?”

  I roll my eyes, losing most of my smile. “That's easy. He fired my boyfriend last week and forbid him to come with me to this. He was just being mean about it.” I shrug, adding, “I thought it was rude, so I got rude back.”

  “You thought it was rude he fired him?”

  “No, I thought it was rude he wouldn’t let him come with me this weekend,” I clarify. “I’m sure Reed had reason to fire him. He wouldn’t have done it if he didn’t. I know that. It’s just . . . I think he could’ve still allowed me to bring him. Don’t you think?”

  CJ stares at me for a second, thinking on this, then shakes his head. “Yeah, sorry, darlin’. I’m siding with your brother on this one.”

  “What?” My brow furrows. “Why? I really don’t think it would’ve been that awkward.”

  “Maybe not. Still. It’s his wedding. If Reed doesn’t want someone at it he has that right. Can’t fault him for feeling that way.” He leans closer to add, “Plus, it’s better for me your guy’s not here. I get a pretty girl to talk to all night and I get her without some asshole giving me shit about it.”

  I blink up at him, watching CJ slowly straighten up and resume leaning against the bar.

  “You think I’m pretty?” I ask.

  He stares at me, brow tightening. “Are you serious?”

  I nod through a hard swallow. Memories of my evening before arriving here press like a heavy weight on my chest. “He called me a bitch tonight.”

  “Who did?”

  “Richard. My now ex-boyfriend,” I answer, looking down at my fingers twisting together in my lap. “He . . . we were fighting about the wedding. The past week, that’s all we’ve been doing. He didn’t think I should go and I didn’t think he should put me in a position to make a choice like that. Then he called me a bitch.” I shake my head, voice lowering when I continue. “I’ve never been called that before. Not by anyone. It felt like he slapped me, you know? It was like he hated me. I could see it in his eyes.” I look back up at CJ. “I was just trying to explain to him why I had to be here. I wanted him to understand. And if I’d been acting like a bitch at all, I
might’ve let it slide, maybe, I don’t know, but I wasn’t. So I didn’t let it slide. I got mad and I ended it. I won’t be talked to like that.”

  “That’s good, babe,” CJ says. “You shouldn’t let any man talk to you like that. And his ass was in the wrong anyway. He shouldn’t be making shit hard on you and expecting you to choose between him or your family. That’s fucked up.”

  Tension pulls from my shoulders.

  Finally! Someone other than myself agrees with me.

  “Thank you. That’s exactly what I thought.”

  CJ shrugs, then releases the shot glass and slides it closer to me. “Straight up, though, that fucker doesn’t really sound like much of a man if he couldn’t let you handle your thing this weekend without crying about it. Don’t let that shit get to you. Reed’s your brother. You’re right for being here.”

  I feel my mouth twitch.

  CJ smiles at me, chuckles, then grips the back of his neck briefly before dropping his arm and shaking his head. “Shit. I really ran into you?”

  I laugh, nodding. “Yep.”

  “Fuck.” He takes another pull of his beer.

  As I watch his gaze move and fixate on a spot behind the bar, I remember CJ asking me if I was serious about wanting to know if he thought I was pretty, and further remember that I never finished pressing for confirmation on his earlier statement.

  Confirmation would be super right now. I’d really like to know . . .

  “So, yeah,” I continue on a heavy sigh as I untangle my fingers only to tangle them together again.

  I cannot believe I am doing this.

  “After the night I had, or really, the last week, I’m serious. If it’s true, it’d be nice to hear right about now. I couldn’t tell you the last compliment I got.”

  He tips his chin at me. “What’s that?”

  I stare blankly at his face.

  What’s . . . that?

  Crap. I’m going to have to trigger his memory.

  “Uh, do you . . . you called me pretty, before, like, a minute ago, remember? And I was asking if you really thought that?”

  My cheeks are burning by the time I finish speaking, then I watch a slow, satisfied smile drag across CJ’s mouth while his brows lift in amusement and I realize he knows exactly what I’m talking about and he never stopped knowing exactly what I’ve been talking about.