Page 12 of Last Resort

He purses his lips for a beat before answering. “It’s complicated.”

“Isn’t everything?” I shift on my feet. “Thank you for the drink. It was nice meeting you, Johnnie. Good luck with your partners tomorrow and more importantly, in your quest to find your morning Starbucks date.”

“Where’s the fun in that, Collins?” He takes a step closer.

“I know rejection isn’t something you’re used to, but yes, I came here to celebrate my newly single status and my huge promotion at work with my friend. And now I’m going to return to that celebration.”

“A promotion? Nice. Congrats.” He taps his glass to mine.

“Yes. Thank you. They’re over there.” I motion to the velvet-roped area where Lizzy is sitting in the center of a group of guys. He looks to them and then back to me.

“Go celebrate then.”

“I will.”

“Off you go.”

“I’m going.”

“Then why aren’t your feet moving?”

Because I don’t want them to.

I should want them to. I should want the hell away from all men. I should be traumatized after what I allowed Clint to do to me . . . but it feels so good to flirt. So good to see a man look at me with desire. So incredible to be turned on . . . that my feet don’t want to move.

“Well?”

Panic strikes.

Sheer and utter panic.

“Who would have you if you left me, Sutton? No one else will find you attractive.”

“I will,” I say. “Right now.”

Keeping my nerves in check, I walk past him and toward the first exit, every step urgently hoping my brain will stop replaying Clint’s vicious words. Shoving the door open, I welcome the sudden silence, the cool air on my face, and the immediate distance between me and a man who flusters me in ways I’ve never experienced.

It’s been two years since you’ve flirted, Sutt. It’s okay to be unnerved and unsettled and not sure how to feel.

Deep breath.

Slow, deep breaths.

I look around the dimly lit alley where people come and go a few feet from me and welcome the moment’s peace to gather my bearings and not feel like more of an idiot for running from Johnnie Walker.

“What are you doing?” I mutter to myself. What woman walks away from a man like that? Why can’t I allow myself to enjoy something a little forbidden and let loose after two years of whatever it was?

Go back in there, Sutton.

You deserve to feel good after getting the promotion today.

Go back and see where the night takes you.

You deserve to feel something exciting after feeling so numb for so long.

Do one more thing for yourself.

I laugh at myself, my new motto (apparently), and draw in a deep breath to fortify my courage before I do something completely out of the ordinary and wildly inappropriate. The problem? When I go to open the door, it’s locked. Clearly, they don’t want random people walking in from outside who haven’t paid the cover charge.