And lets face it. Want.
Raw, consuming, desperate want.
Last night in the kitchen had nearly broken me. Standing that close to her, feeling the heat of her body, watching her pulse jump in her throat when I'd touched her face was almost too much. It had taken every ounce of self-control I possessed not to kiss her.
Not to press her against that counter and remind her exactly who she belonged to.
I'd held back. Only because I knew she needed to come to me. She needed to be the one to decide, to choose, to admit that the fire between us was still burning as hot as it ever had.
I just hoped she'd figure it out before I lost my mind.
Around nine o'clock, a guy walked in who immediately set my teeth on edge.
He was tall, good-looking in that generic, preppy way. The kind of guy who peaked in his fraternity days and spent the rest of his life trying to recapture the glory.
He walked straight to the bar, bypassing the empty stools to squeeze into a spot directly in front of where Betty was working.
"Hey there," he said, flashing a grin that probably worked on most women. "What does a guy have to do to get a drink around here?"
Betty smiled. Her customer service smile, the one I'd learned to distinguish from her real smile within the first hour of being here. "What can I get you?"
"Whiskey sour. And your name."
"Betty." She was already reaching for the whiskey, her movements efficient and impersonal. "And that line might work better if you tried it on someone who hasn't heard it a thousand times."
The guy laughed like she'd said something hilarious instead of mildly insulting. "Betty. Beautiful name for a beautiful woman."
"Original," she said dryly, sliding his drink across the bar. "That'll be twelve dollars."
He handed her a twenty. "Keep the change. And maybe your number?"
My hand tightened around my beer bottle.
Betty handled it with practiced ease. "Sorry, I don't give out my number to customers. House policy."
"Rules are made to be broken." He leaned forward, invading her space, and I watched her take a subtle step back. "Come on, one drink after you close. I'll show you a good time."
"Not interested." Her voice was firm now, the customer service smile gone. "Enjoy your drink."
She turned to help another customer, clearly dismissing him.
But the asshole didn't take the hint.
He reached across the bar and caught her wrist as she passed.
I was off my stool before I consciously decided to move.
"Hey, I'm talking to you—"
He never finished the sentence.
I grabbed his wrist holding Betty, and twisted, applying just enough pressure to make him release her without actually breaking anything. He yelped and tried to pull away, but I held firm, stepping into his space until we were nose to nose.
"She said she's not interested." My voice was calm. Quiet. The kind of quiet that made smart men back away and stupid men double down.
This guy was stupid.
"Who the hell are you?" He tried to puff up, which was almost funny given that I had four inches and fifty pounds of muscle on him. "Her boyfriend?"
