My arm slides along the back of her stool, and I internally celebrate when she leans into me rather than away like she did with the other guy. “I get out plenty.”
Her throat muscles tense around her swallow. “Oh…well, okay.” The low huskiness of her voice turns me on.
I take a sip of my beer and then ask, “So, Maggie, do you come here to yell at random men regularly?”
She sits up straighter, pushing her chest out slightly and drawing my eyes down for the briefest second. I try to discreetly adjust myself to ease my discomfort. Mock pride filters into her tone when she responds, “Shockingly, this is my first time here. I just moved to Nashville not too longago. But I have many years of experience ensuring men know what idiots they are.”
I let out a chuckle as I shake my head. “Good for you. There are plenty who need it. Where did you move from?”
Something that looks like sadness crosses her features. “North Carolina.”
Taking a moment to study her, there’s no doubt that she isn’t being entirely truthful in her response, and while normally, I wouldn’t give a shit about a possible hookup not telling me the truth, it bothers me with her. I want to know everything. And that freaks me the fuck out. Not enough to leave, but it freaks me out, regardless.
I focus my gaze straight ahead and take another long drink of beer, debating if this is a terrible idea until her body heat bleeds into my arm. Turning my head, I find her leaning into me as a friend of the douchebag leers at her from her other side, where he leans over the bar, waiting for his drink.
Instinct takes over, and I wrap my arm around Maggie’s waist to pull her body against mine. All thoughts of this being a bad idea evaporate, never to be seen again, when her soft curves relax into me. I steal a moment to inhale her scent—sweet vanilla that makes me want to take a bite. Digging my fingertips into her, I lift my stare to the man. Considering the number of people I’ve killed, I know how to give a compelling death stare. I get great satisfaction from the fear that flashes in his eyes. He grabs his drink and speed-walks back to his table.
I don’t let her go. And she doesn’t try to move away. Allowing myself one more inhale, I loosen my grip on her. She slowly shifts back, and I’m hoping that means she’s as reluctant to stop touching me as I am her.
When she’s sitting back in her seat, she turns to me with a smirk. “You sure are handy to have around.”
I raise my eyebrows and reply, “I’m a man of many talents.”
She bites her bottom lip, and I grind my teeth. “I have no doubt about that, Ian.”
I clear my throat. Needing to distract myself from the impulses to make this woman mine in ways I don’t want to examine, I ask, “So, uh, did you move here with your boyfriend?”
She shakes her head slowly, knowingly. “Nope. Moved here for work.”
Relief settles in my gut at her answer. Not that I’m happy to admit it, but I probably would’ve tried to convince her she should forget about him if her answer had been different.
It’s Friday night, and I didn’t come out specifically to get laid, but now, I want nothing more than exactly that. But it’s either Maggie or no one.
Downing the rest of my beer, I turn again to look her in the eye. Her gaze stays locked on mine as I cage her in with a hand on the back of her stool and one on the bar. “How many drinks have you had?”
“Two. Why?” She tilts her head, regarding me with a furrowed brow.
I nod. “Good.” I take a deep breath and hope I didn’t misread her interest. “I can’t offer you a lot beyond tonight. Come home with me.”
Without any hesitation, Maggie says, “Kiss me first.”
My jaw muscle tics with tension. “Outside,” I tell her, voice gruff with restraint.
The barstool is loud on the floor as Maggie pushes it back and jumps down. I finally see how short she is—maybe a little over five feet tall, which is perfect for my five-eleven height. Her body is exactly what I imagined—utter perfection.
She pats my bicep as she passes by the back of my seat. “Come on, big boy. Let’s see what you got.”
A laugh rumbles out of me as I rise from the stool and settle my hand on her lower back as I guide her out of the bar.
2
Maggie
Holy shit.
This is probably a bad idea. Like, a really bad idea.
But I’m a great judge of character, especially when it comes to shitty men, and every cell in my body is screaming at me that Ian is the furthest thing from that.
