I glanced at her hand when it landed on my forearm and frowned as I lifted my eyes to her face. Her pupils were too wide, and the smell of alcohol rolled off her under the perfume. She wasn’t tipsy in a cute way.
I pulled my arm free and angled my body away enough to make the message clear.
“Not interested.”
Her smile faltered for half a second before snapping back into place, brighter and more brittle. “You don’t even know what I’m offering.”
“Don’t need to.”
She laughed like I’d said something clever instead of dismissive, then leaned in again, her shoulder brushing mine while her fingers traced the edge of my cut near my chest. “I’m Sutton.”
My expression icy, I didn’t respond verbally as I picked up her hand and dropped it in her lap.
Fury glanced over from the other side of the bar. He didn’t move yet, but nothing in The Burnout happened without him clocking it, especially not a drunk stranger pawing at one of his brothers. I gave a faint shake of my head because I had it handled for now, though my patience was already thinning.
“Come on.” Her voice dropped into a tone I assumed she thought was seductive. “Let me buy you a drink.”
“I have one.”
“Then let me buy you the next one.”
“No.”
She pouted, shifting closer until her knee pressed against my thigh. “You always this rude?”
“Only when polite doesn’t work.”
Any halfway sober woman with an ounce of self-preservation would’ve backed off, saved her pride, and found someone else to bother. But Sutton doubled down instead of retreating. Herhand landed on my chest this time, her palm spreading over my shirt, causing irritation and disgust to roll through me.
I caught her wrist and removed her hand again, squeezing hard but not enough to hurt. “Don’t.”
I thought I’d finally gotten through to her. But then she gave me a sultry smile that probably worked on men who liked chaos wrapped in easy access packaging.
“Playing hard to get?” she cooed, her lashes fluttering.
“No.”
“Liar.” She leaned closer, her breath hot with liquor as her gaze dropped to my mouth. “You look like you need someone to help you loosen up and have some fun.”
“Blink the alcohol out of your eyes and look again.”
Her expression turned annoyed for the first time, as if my refusal had finally pushed through the fog and landed somewhere her ego could feel it. Then she slid off the stool and stepped between my knees before I could move, crowding into my space with a hand braced on the bar beside me. The move was so fucking unwelcome that my jaw tightened.
I turned my head before she could get close enough to kiss me, then planted a hand on her shoulder and moved her back with enough firmness to end the game. “That’s enough. If a man treated you like this, you’d be expecting a guy like me to land him on his ass.”
The words cut through her haze enough to make her cheeks flush with embarrassment. Then anger sparked there, the kind that came from people who hated being denied more than they liked whoever they were chasing. She pulled herself upright, trying for dignity and missing by a mile because her heel slid slightly on the floor.
I didn’t reach to steady her this time because she’d caught the bar to keep from face-planting. Besides, she’d mistakenbasic decency for interest once already, and I wasn’t giving her another excuse.
Her mouth twisted. “Wow. You really are an asshole.”
“Tonight? Absolutely.” I set my beer down and met her glare without blinking.
Fury moved before Sutton could decide whether she wanted to slap me, cry, or try putting her hands on me again. He came around the bar, and the few patrons close enough to overhear suddenly found their drinks, phones, or pool cues fascinating as hell.
I didn’t need him to save me from her—he was taking action so that she couldn’t cry foul if I tried to remove her from the bar. Instead, it was the proprietor tossing her out on her ass.
He stepped between us, not touching her at first, just putting his body in the space she kept trying to invade. His expression wasn’t angry, but there was nothing soft in it either.
