He huffs low under his breath. “Strangers?What strangers are you talking to?”
Oh, dear God. I’ve made a mistake.How dare I talk about strangers?
“No strangers. I’m just talking.” I rub my temples dramatically and stare up at him, not noticing the green in his eyes or the way his biceps inadvertently flex.Nope, not noticing them at all.
“You’re trouble.” He sets his jaw and stalks out of the bathroom, assuming I’ll follow, which I do, because I’m headed that way anyway.
“You call me trouble so much it’s losing its meaning. Maybe try something else.”
He exhales through his nose, slow and controlled, as though I annoy the hell out of him. “Benny asked me to look out for you while I’m here.”
“Ugh! Then how do you explain all the years you micromanaged mebeforehe left town?”
He rests his heavy hand on the bar as he slides behind the counter for a ginger ale and a bowl of crunchy pretzel twists. “I’ve got work to do. Sober up right here until your stomach feels better.”
“Yes sir, Mr. Bartender, sir. I’m just but a wee girl who can’t function in this world without the help of a big, strong man.” I talk like I’m annoyed, but the truth is, I’m still feeling thankful for him. My stomach is killing me, and it’s kind of nice to be sat down andtoldto rest.
“That guy is fine as hell.” The lady in western gear sitting next to me leans in, her breath like the blackberry whiskey I was just throwing up. “I think he likes you.”
“No,” I laugh, backing up a little to avoid more nausea. “Everyone says that, but he’s actually really annoyed by me.”
She shakes her head and takes another sip of whiskey, dripping some on her shirt. “Well, if a man like that was annoyed by me, I’d take advantage of it.”
I nod slowly, unsure of what to say. I’ve always been really bad at small talk, and even worse at small talk about how handsome my brother’s best friend is. Sure, I’ve had my own private, late-night fantasies about what his big, rough hands would feel like on my skin, or how it would feel to be picked up and wrecked by his giant frame, but the dude watched me graduate high school. He’s twenty years older than me. It’s sick that I’m thinking of him like that.
“Good to know,” I finally say to the woman who won’t look away from Ryker.
Looking for something to do with my hands, I dip into the pretzel bowl and munch a few as Ryker makes his way back toward the bar with the same ‘what are you looking at’scowl he’s had as long as I’ve known him.
The woman bumps me on the shoulder and leans in, her gaze still stuck on my brother’s best friend as though she’s tracking the purposeful way he moves. “See, he’s looking at you.”
“He’s looking at me to make sure I’m doing what he told me to do. He has a control fantasy,” I laugh, “and I’m the easiest subject around.”
“Don’t blame you!” she snorts. “I’d be his willing subject too! Those shoulders, the biceps, all those tattoos… my God! I’d let him do all kinds of controlling.”
Okay…I take another sip of ginger ale and a handful of pretzels. “It was so nice to meet you,” I say, standing from the stool. “I’ve gotta run, but… I hope you have a good night.”
I’m not sure why I feel like I have to be polite to people even when they’re weird, but I do. It’s ingrained in my psyche.Hell, I’m pretty sure I’d thank my kidnappers for helping me into their windowless van.
I’m nearly to the front door when I hear my guardian angel’s deep, burly voice. “Where are you going? I told you to sit and sober up.”
“I’m not drunk. I was a little tipsy at best, but the pretzels solved everything.” I cross my arms across my chest like a defiant kid who’s tired of answering questions. “I need to head home. I have a thousand things to do before tonight.”
“What’s tonight?”
A woman passes, and her gaze not so subtly slips in Ryker’s direction.
Wow, lady. Relax. He’s a big, handsome, rugged giant. I get it.
“I don’t know,” I clear my throat and side-eye the lady who won’t quit staring. “I’m going out.”
“With who?”
“None of your business!” I turn toward the door and push it open, stepping out into the street, my eyes squinting in the bright light of the afternoon sun.
He clears his throat and crosses his big arms in front of his chest, looking like some kind of warrior god who’s come to save the day. “Look, I know you’re an independent woman, but I need to know who you’re going out with tonight.”
“No,” I narrow my brows, “you don’t need to know at all. In fact, this has got to stop, Ryker. I know Benny wants you to look after me, but I’m twenty-two years old. I’m not a baby. I can drink a few drinks, walk home, go on a date, and survive. If I don’t… that’s on me.”
