My heart skips a beat, the same way it did when I saw him outside the cabin when I moved in, the same way it did when he caught me after toilet-papering his house.
The same way it did when we spent an hour chatting in a coffee shop years ago.
And just like that day, my eyes take him in, completely in awe of him. It’s absolutely rude for a man to be such an assandbe that hot. He’s in well-fitting jeans and a tight white T-shirt that shows off muscles I didn’t know he had across his chest, stretching the arms of his shirt. He’s wearing fuckingwork boots,which feels almost illegal to see in the wild considering I’ve only ever seen him in custom-made shoes.
It’s like seeing Superman out of his costume or a lion without its mane. Like this, totally out of his fancy, expensive suits, his normally neatly-coiffed hair a bit messy, like his hands have been running through it nonstop, pushing it back to keep it out of his eyes—he looks nothing like the man I sat across from in a business meeting.
“Leo!” Madden calls from the other side of the table. Leo’s pleasant look as he waves to Madden melts off when his gaze slides to me. His face transforms, expressions moving from confusion to shock to frustration in the blink of an eye. When he recovers, his steps quicken, eyes narrowing on me. I watch in utter fascination as the gap between us closes before he stops just a foot from where I’m sitting on a tall stool.
“Hey, Leo,” I say, trying to sound casual.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, irritation rolling off him in waves. I roll my eyes, whatever awed stupor he put me into upon walking in fading quickly with his attitude.
“This is getting kind of old, Sinclaire,” I say with a sigh. For a moment, when his face screws up in irritation, I second-guess myself. But then Nat snorts out a laugh beside me, and it fuels my sass.
I’m starting to like this new version of me who gives zero fucks, who doesn’t baby everyone or worry about how her actions will impact them.
I’m not hurting anyone, so what should matter?
“I’m staying in Holly Ridge to write with Adam, remember?” I say slowly, as if he can’t understand my words. He sighs, eyes drifting shut as he takes a deep breath before he speaks again.
“Yeah, I know. What are you doing here? This is a bar.” I look around, pretending to look shocked.
“Wow, is this what this place is? I didn’t know. I’ve never actually seen one in real life.”
“Drop the fucking act, Willa. You know what I mean. You can’t be out at a bar,” he says, and that now-familiar irritation brews in my veins, further pushing me to do whatever it is Leo tells me I can’t do.
He’s not my dad. He’s not my mom. He’s not even mymanager.
“Well, I’m here. What are you going to do, throw me over your shoulder and take me home?” A laugh bursts from someone behind me, but I don’t break eye contact with Leo, unwilling to lose this stare-down. I’ve never had anyone pull this kind of reaction from me, never felt the consuming desire to argue and go toe to toe and prove someone wrong, but for some reason, I feel it surging anytime Leo opens his stupid mouth.
And it becomes even more pressing when his jaw goes hard, and his eyes flare with irritation.
“If I have to.”
My breath hitches at his words, and then the strangest thing happens.
His eyes drop, moving from my eyes to my lips like he’s watching where my gasp came from. For the smallest moment, I think his eyes heat, but it’s gone so quickly, I think I must have imagined it.
“You know what would loosen up this tension right now? Shots!” Nat shouts, and Leo looks away, then, shifting his glare to her. I laugh and start to shake my head because, despite feeling comfortable at this bar, I don’t know if I’ll ever feel comfortable enough to completely let go like that.
The one and only time I got drunk was my twenty-first birthday, and every paparazzi in a one-hundred-mile radius seemed to catch me stumbling about, taking shots, dancing with everyone and anyone, and generally having a good time. The next morning, I was so terribly hungover, but it was the lecture Jackie gave me about messing with the brand that made me realize it just wasn’t worth it.
America’s sweetheart doesn’t get shitfaced drunk and grind on strangers, after all.
“Absolutely not,” Leo says before I can respond. I narrow my eyes at his tone, so firm and unwavering.
And I say fuck it.
“Hell yeah!” I shout, lifting a hand in the air. Leo’s mouth opens to argue, but Hallie and Nat grab my hands, and we nearly skip to the bar, where Hallie orders something and Colt lines up three shot glasses. Leo’s gaze burns a hole in my back the entire time, but I don’t turn to check until the girls, and I tap our glasses in a cheers. Only then do I turn to look at Leo, then hold his gaze as I lift the small glass, gesturing toward him in a toast with a small smile on my lips before I down the drink.
And even if I refuse to admit to myself, I don’t think the burning warmth in my belly is from the liquor.
THIRTEEN
LEO
I should have said no.
