Okay that was really cheesy but it was the only way to segue into the week of Valentine's Day. Every day (from Monday to Friday) will be filled with different - awesome things - Guest Posts, Love Rants and Post-Apocalyptic Book Reviews - what more could a girl ask for?
Anyways, we're back with another Undercover Lovers story all about drunks and husbands. That's...kind of romantic, right? If 80s and 90s romantic comedies have taught me anything it's that ANYTHING can be romantic if you look at it through rose coloured beer goggles.
Happy Valentine's Week!
“Are you sure you’ll be alright, sweetie.” Lanie was trying really hard to be serious – she was – but the way Esposito was nibbling on her ear and breathing down her neck in that ridiculously turned on manner was making it difficult.
Kate rolled her eyes as her two friends continued to casually grope each other at the end of the bar. “I promise. Rick called and he’ll be here any minute to take me home where my boyfriend and I can do something much more dignified than what you and your ex are about to do.”
“Hey,” The Hispanic detective came up for air long enough to glare at his friend before returning to peppering drunken kisses down Lanie’s neck.
Kate rolled her eyes – really, there was nothing else to do when the two of them were like this – and continued to burse her drink “go. The cab will be here any minute so save the show for them, okay?”
Lanie leaned over to kiss her friend’s cheek before her ex-lover/occasional bootycall dragged her out of the bar by the belt loop of her very-fitted jeans. Even after they were gone, it seemed fitting to roll her eyes.
She settled further into her stool in the corner of the bar – far enough from the crowd to be bothered by it – and took another sip of her drink. It might have been her third; really she was having too much fun watching her two friends pretend to deny their attraction to each other. It wasn’t that she was necessarily gunning for them to get back together but she always thought that if two people were truly attracted to each other and wanted to be together they should.
She laughed at her own hypocrisy. At least she’d made a move – finally.
She stiffened when she felt a warm hand come around her waist and a light breath kiss her neck. “Hey beautiful.”
That was definitely not Rick’s voice. No, when she turned around this pudgy, unevenly shaven man smelling of cheap beer and old spice was definitely not her debonair boyfriend. Alright he might not have looked that bad but it was definitely not Rick and that was the point. “Can I help you?”
“I have been watching you all night, just waiting for your friends to leave so I could talk to in private.” At least he was direct. She slunk out of her seat when he leaned in to touch her neck. No, he definitely did smell that bad. And he definitely was running his hand up her thigh.
“You need to back away now.”
“Oh but a girl as pretty as you shouldn’t be left alone.” He kept stalking towards her around the chair – would men never learn? “There are dangerous men lurking around.”
“Sir, I don’t really want to make a scene.” And this time – unlike all the other times she’d said it in her life – she actually meant it, she was just not in the mood to beat this man up because it just wasn’t a beat-him-up-for-pissing-her-off kind of night – though it was certainly getting there.
“Oh baby, we don’t have to make a scene if you don’t want to.” Tonight was the night to roll her eyes at the ridiculousness of the world around her.
She placed her hands on his chest when he dared to get that close to her. Where the hell was everyone else and why wasn’t the bartender who’d been there not ten minutes ago stepping in? “Sir, please, my husband will be here any minute and you really don’t want to make him angry.” Changing tactics, she decided to play the shy female, hoping he’d back off if he thought she had some big strong man to protect her. Admittedly it wasn’t her best move but it seemed to work because booze-breath paused in his lip-licking perusal of her and his eyes fell to her left hand. Curses.
“I don’t see a ring there.”
She tilted her chin up like her explanation as actually dignified. “I was at the spa today and I didn’t want to lose it.” That was also why he was still standing – that, she knew for sure. He’d somehow managed to back her against the bar and lean in close enough for her to choke on his cologne.
“I seriously doubt that.”
“Kate?” Now that voice she knew belonged to Rick.
“Honey,” she breathed, slipping out from the bar when sleaze-stack was distracted and coming to rest against the writer’s chest “you’re here.”
His arm fell to her hip naturally, no matter how confused he was by the entire situation. “What’s going on?” He spoke slowly, almost fearing the answer.
“This man won’t leave me alone sweetie.” Was she using her whiny, valley girl voice – it was a little hard to hear against the din of the music – because that meant trouble. And she was definitely mussing her hair and snuggling into his chest. He was already pissed off at this guy.
“So you’re the husband?” He looked Rick over, looking for any immediate threat and, finding none, raised his fist to knock out the competition. Rick beat him to it – guess he didn’t see that coming. The punch wasn’t hard enough to knock him out but it stunned him long enough that when he had stopped seeing double, he stumbled when Kate slammed his face against the bar. He was left a groaning heap on the floor.
Kate carefully stepped around his body to bend down and whisper in his ear “a pretty girl like me can take care of herself.” With a supermodel hair flip she stood and took Rick’s hand as he assisted her in stepping on and over the man who would definitely have uncomfortable bruises in the morning. Completely ignorant of the other patrons staring at them, Castle held both her hands as they strolled out of the bar as casual as can be. “Well that was fun.” He whispered in her ear and she hummed non-committedly. “So how was your spa day with Lanie?”
“It went pretty much as expected.”
He dared to glance back at the aftermath of their brief encounter. “I don’t know when this became expected for you but I think I should start to worry.”
“I wouldn’t.” She shrugged, hip-checking the door open.
“So…” he leaned in to kiss the skin behind her ear “I’m your husband now? I thought that was supposed to be a mutual thing.”
They both expected her to stiffen and quickly change the subject way from the matrimonial but instead she just laughed, leaning back into his arms “no, you’re not my husband. It’s just that psychologically creeps are more likely to back off if they know the girl is in a committed relationship like a marriage rather than just a boyfriend.”
He hummed. It made sense, of course, but it still seemed like there was something missing. So he moved on. “So what happened to Lanie anyways?”
And Kate was back to rolling her eyes. “Esposito came to pick her up about an hour ago. And then proceeded to get as drunk as she was. They left a few minute ago – I called a cab.” She assured.
“What, is that some new form of insult?” She looked at him; he had no way of describing the looks she gave him, sometimes. As a writer this was both bad and breath-taking. “To call them a cab?”
He didn’t need to see her to know she was rolling her eyes – which was a good thing because she was already walking towards his car and sliding into the passenger seat. “You mean I actually get to drive?”
“Castle, just take me home.”
“Because if I’m going to pretend to be your husband I really think I should get to drive more often…” the conversation continued into the next day when a hung over Esposito came into work, asking how the rest of her evening was with as much of a leer as he could muster. The couple revealed nothing…until a beat cop called to ask if she was the one responsible for the nasty black eye and broken nose on one of the guys who’d made it to the drunk tank last night.