I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t surprised. I open my mouth to tell her just that, but before I can, the band changes the song, and Hattie bolts up out of her seat. “We have to dance!”
I raise my hands and shake my head. “No way.”
She pouts, and if it were anything but dancing, I might give in. But as bad as Hattie is at singing, I am the equivalent at dancing. Hattie comes around the table and reaches for my hand, trying to drag me out of the chair, but I remain where I am.
“I’m gonna sit this one out. You go, have fun. I’ll watch.”
She pouts some more but does just that. “Your loss.”
Watching her from our table turns out to be the better end of the deal by far. She’s out there laughing and dancing around, having fun. At one point, she’s welcomed into a group of other women when they notice that she’s by herself. The joy I see on her face does something to me. I get this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach that I’ve never felt. The hell if I’m going to examine it too closely.
Then I see a man who’s probably closer to Hattie’s age than my own come up behind her and set his hand on her hip. I know exactly what to name this emotion—blind jealousy.
35
HATTIE
Alarge hand lands on my waist, and I smile. Bast decided to join me after all. I’m so glad. I’m having the best time out here. He was really missing out.
I raise my hands and lean back. The women dancing around me encourage me on. No doubt. Bast is so hot, and if the roles were reversed, I’d be egging them on too.
I close my eyes and wrap my arms around Bast’s neck behind me, moving to the music and gyrating my hips. His other hand falls to my waist so both his hands are rubbing up and down my sides.
When I open my eyes, I glance over at our table, wondering if Bast left my bag there and whether it will be okay, but instead of finding it empty, Bast is there, staring at me. He’s risen from the chair with his hands fisted at his sides, and I freeze in place from the look of rage on his face.
“C’mon, baby, don’t stop now.”
It takes my brain a second to catch up to the fact that the voice that just sounded in my ear is not Bast’s.
I unwrap my hands from around his neck and whirl around, stepping back. “Oh my god!” My hand flies up to my mouth. “I thought you were someone else. I’m sorry.”
The sandy-haired man grins and wraps a hand around my waist and tugs me to him again. “I can be whoever you want me to be, baby.”
I push against his chest, but he doesn’t release me, only pulling me in tighter. The smell of the alcohol on his breath is clear, as are his glazed eyes.
“You have one second to get your hands off her.”
My head whips to the side, where Bast stands looking as though he’s about a millisecond away from murdering this man. I push again at the man’s chest, but he doesn’t let go.
“Back off, asshole. Get your own girl. This one’s coming home with me.” He smiles at me. “Aren’t you, sweetheart?”
I almost gag at the waft of alcohol coming off his breath. “Let me go.”
“Don’t make me ask you again. If you don’t get your hands off her, I’ll do it for you.” Bast steps closer.
The guy holding me pushes me away without a second glance. He’s too busy staring down Bast, the new target of his interest. “I’d like to see you try, old man.”
Bast chuckles, but his nostrils flare and his jaw clenches. It’s clear to me that it’s taking everything in him to hold back.
“Bast, let’s just go.”
He raises a hand but doesn’t look away from the drunk man. “He had his dirty paws all over what’s mine and needs to be taught a lesson.”
The guy shakes his head at Bast as if he finds this comical.
“Tell you what, this old man will let you get the first hit in. Then I’ll finish it.” Bast waves his hands toward his chest in a “come and get it” gesture.
Drunk guy laughs, then, without warning, he cranks his hand back and punches Bast in the face.
