“I’m not a big coffee drinker,” he said, wrinkling his nose as if I’d just suggested something poisonous. Talk about a red flag. What kind of man didn’t drink coffee? In my mind, any man who couldn’t handle a hot cup of black coffee couldn’t handle me either.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Ryan glanced down at my purse, arching an eyebrow. “You can take that if you want. Seems like someone really needs to get ahold of you.”
“Oh, it’s nothing to worry about. Just a friend,” I muttered, annoyed at having to defend myself to some guy I’d known all of five minutes.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Dammit, Jace.
I hopped off the barstool. “Give me a second—I’ll be right back,” I announced, walking away, weaving through the dancing bodies as I made a beeline for the bathrooms to escape the noise.
I answered, my voice low. “What do you want?”
“What are you wearing?” His tone was dangerously calm.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I asked, smirking despite the heat creeping up my chest.
“Iwouldlike to know,” he said in a firm voice. “So go ahead and tell me.”
“Why does it matter what I’m wearing to a costume party, Jace?”
“Because if I come down there and see some idiot drooling over you in what I’m guessing is another extremely revealing costume—like Wonder Woman last year or that devil outfit the year before—I’ll end up in jail on Halloween.”
My stomach lurched. “How do you even know what costumes I’ve worn before?”
“That’s none of your business just like what you’re wearing right now is none of mine apparently.”
I smirked, leaning against the cool tile wall. “If you really want to know what I’m wearing, you’ll have to come see for yourself. But you’d better hurry—before the guy at the bar buying me shots talks me into stripping off the rest of what little fabric I’ve got left… in the back seat of his truck. I’m feeling feisty, Jace, and the night’s still young as they say.”
I hung up before he could reply. The thrill of my own audacity was coursing through my body. No doubt I had just let the tiger out of his cage.
Chapter 22 – Jace
I made it to the Twisted Spur in record time. I hadn’t stepped foot in that building in over two years, but the second Cassie hung up on me, my blood boiled. No way in hell was she going to tease me like that and get away with it. If my gifts and grand gestures didn’t prove to Cassie how much I was willing to fight for her, maybe my words would.
Ian, the bouncer, didn’t even bother checking my ID when I blew through the front doors. He knew I was well over the legal drinking age. My expression alone probably screameddo not mess with me.I stormed into the main barroom, scanning the crowd for those familiar locks of fire-red hair.
After a couple of sweeps across the room, I finally spotted Cassie sitting in one of the corner booths. At first, relief washed over me because no one was sitting next to her. Then pure rage hit me when I realized exactly why––someone was sittingunderher.
She was perched on the lap of some guy I didn’t recognize, twisting and laughing like she was performing for the whole bar. Her laughter was louder than any stupid ass joke he could’ve come up with even warranted.
You wanna play, sugar?Let’s play.
I could feel all eyes on me as I pushed through the crowd, clearly out of place without a costume. I made my way to the booth where Cassie sat with that city-slicking motherfucker, whose hand was way too close to her ass for my liking. I walked over to their table, towering over them.
“What do you think you’re doing with your hands all over my girl?” I seethed.
Cassie gaped at me, stunned that I had actually taken the bait.
He leaned back in his seat, clearly caught off guard. “My bad man, she told me she was single,” he said, almost pushing her off his lap, which made Cassie shift forward. I didn’t hate the view—her chest looked fuller than normal in the black corset she was wearing. But the way that guy had pushed her off him, as if she were trash, pissed me off, so I didn’t enjoy the view for long before I snatched Cassie’s purse off the table and demanded she leave with me. She stood up, fire in her eyes.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she asked, just inches from my face.
“Two can play hard ball.” I winked at her, knowing it would send her over the edge, and it absolutely did. She grabbed for her purse, trying to pull it from my grip, but even if she used both hands, she couldn’t take it from me. I refused to let go.
“I tried to play nice Cassie, I really did. But if you want me to fight for you, I fucking will,” I shot back. I turned and marched away. My job here was done. No other man would bother her tonight. Not after her jealous boyfriend busted in causing such a scene.
