“Not a chance.” I take a sip, letting it burn. “The only way you’re getting me up there is if this place catches fire.”
She makes a face, then glances around. “You know, you don’t have to look like you’re waiting to get jumped every second. You can relax. Nobody here is going to bite you.”
I catch her gaze. “Biting is not what I worry about. Most folks just stab you in the back.” I say, dead serious.
She sobers, searching my face. “Is it really that bad where you’re from?”
“You ever seen a wolf play nice with sheep?” I respond. “I know what can happen if you let your guard down.”
Her lips part like she’s getting ready to say something, but she stops herself. Instead, she scoots closer, her knee brushing mine.
“Well, this is Crystal Falls. People here just get drunk and sing badly. Sometimes there’s a bar fight, but it’s over darts or something stupid.”
I snort. “Darts, huh? Remind me to keep my distance from the old folks’ league.”
She laughs, the sound warm. “You want to play it safe, you picked the wrong place, Dean. Maggie’s has a tendency to get a little rowdy.”
I give her a look. “You like rowdy, Aubrey?”
She shrugs, biting her lip. “Sometimes. Makes me feel alive.”
I lean in, voice rough. “Alive is overrated. Sometimes it’s just another word for stupid.”
She looks at me, long and hard. “If I wanted safe, I wouldn’t have invited you here.”
I smirk, but something is tugging at my chest. I want to warn her off. Tell her she doesn’t know what she’s asking for. But I want her too badly to lie.
Someone on stage butchers a country song. Aubrey groans. “God, I might actually sound better than that.”
“I’ll hold you to it.” I tap her glass with mine. “Go show them how it’s done.”
She makes a face. “You’re a menace. You know that, right?”
“I’ve been called worse,” I say, and she laughs again. She drains her whiskey, slides off the stool, and saunters that fine little ass of hers up to the stage. I watch every step, hungry.
She picks an old Dolly Parton song. Her voice shakes at first, but then she finds her groove. I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s so pure, real, and fucking radiant. Everyone claps when she’s done, but nobody’s looking at her the way I am. Nobody wants her the way I do.
She comes back, cheeks flushed, eyes shining. I hand her a beer. “Not bad, trouble.”
She grins. “Seriously? You liked it?”
I nod, real slow. “I did. Might even have to change my plans about sitting this one out tonight.”
“Oh, so now you’re gonna sing?” she teases, poking my arm.
“Don’t push your luck.”
She laughs, leaning in closer now. Her thigh touches mine. My hand drifts over, fingers brushing the top of her knee. She doesn’t move away. If anything, she slides into me more, and I can feel the heat radiating between us.
A group of assholes starts doing shots at the end of the bar, getting louder by the second. Some dipshit keeps glancing our way, like he wants to start something. I meet his gaze, and he looks away first. Smart guy. Some men know the look of someone who’s not afraid to bleed.
Aubrey notices. “Why are you always on edge?”
I shrug. “Old habits.”
Her smile softens. “Dean, you don’t have to protect me from every drunk guy in here.”
“I know. But I will,” I say, voice rougher than I mean for it to sound.
