“Where’s Owen?” I ask.
Her eyes lift to mine, and something in her softens immediately. “He’s at Ben’s house,” she says. “Pizza and Fortnite.”
“Good,” I say. “He needs that.”
She nods and looks away as if she’s nervous.
I’m acutely aware how familiar and dangerous it feels all at once. Pure torture to be exact. She smells so good like a clean, faintly soap-like scent and something sweet underneath it. I can feel the tension in her even sitting here, like she’s wound too tight and pretending she isn’t.
I keep my hands to myself, and I keep my voice easy. But my body knows exactly how close she is.
Every now and then, she glances over at me or pulls me intothe conversation like I’ve always been there. Like I belong there. It’s effortless and natural, just like it always is between us.
I’m very aware of what she’s wearing. Loose jeans that sit low on her hips. A soft tight top that hangs easy, not trying to show anything, but now I know better. I know exactly what’s underneath. The curves she hides, the gentle dips at her waist. The generous line of her hips that fit my hands far too well in my imagination. A body that’s hella strong and sexy from working hard day after day. A body I’ve memorized in my mind and heart. That knowledge sits heavy in my chest, making every inch of space between us feel charged.
She shifts, and her knee brushes mine again. I don’t move away.
I’m out of water before I realize it, too distracted by the way her top pulls up when she reaches for her glass. Without breaking stride, she slides it over to me, smiles, and keeps talking to Cami like she didn’t just knock the air out of my lungs.
That’s how it’s always been with us.
We look out for each other. Quietly and instinctively. I usually know what she needs before she does. And she does the same for me. Always has.
The difference now is that I’m hyper aware of everything I shouldn’t be thinking. Everything I am thinking. How easy it would be to lean in. How impossible it would be to take it back if I did.
I pretend my pulse isn’t doing something reckless just sitting this close to her.
Jack claps me on the shoulder and slides in across from us. “How’s she doing?” he asks, nodding toward her, Poppy not paying attention to either of us.
“Sully’s been giving her crap,” I tell him, shaking my head.
“Do we need to handle that?” Jack asks, raising his eyebrows.
“We might,” I say with a nod. “I hate that he can’t just leave them alone. He’s making both of our dads look good.”
Jack’s dad is in federal prison for various white-collar crimes he got busted for a few years back, and he’s basically a giant prick like my dad, only my dad isn’t as organized with his criminal activity.
Jack laughs. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
We look up to a guy I’ve never seen before strolling over, his eyes on Poppy. Mid-twenties, maybe. His smile is too cocky, stretched wide like he’s practiced it in a mirror. His cologne hits before he does, sharp and heavy, the kind that tries way too hard to announce itself. He’s got on a crisp button down tucked into pressed jeans, boots without a speck of dust on them, like he’s wearing a cowboy costume instead of living the life.
He leans against our booth like he owns the place, elbow too close to Poppy, eyes sliding over her in a way that makes my jaw tighten. Not friendly, and more like appraising. Like she’s something on a menu. Oh, hell no.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he says, voice slick, confidence borrowed instead of earned. “How about a dance?”
Sweetheart.Nope. Absolutely the fuck not.
I don’t move. Don’t speak. But everything in me goes still and sharp, because this guy is here to take. And I don’t like him on sight.
Poppy blinks and looks at Cami in surprise. “Me?”
He grins at her, and it’s predatory with all of his teeth showing. “You’re the prettiest girl in here. Come on. One dance won’t hurt ya.”
I’m on my feet before my brain can catch up. “She’s not interested,” I say, voice low and dangerous.
The guy almost steps back, but Poppy stands too, throwing me a glare fierce enough to take down a man twice mysize. “Ollie.”
“What?” I ask, my eyes burning into Poppy’s, almost daring her to fight me on this. That guy is not good enough for her. Hell, no one in this bar is good enough for Poppy.
