Page 74 of Twisted Knight

“I’m not interested, but thanks.”

“No? Shit, man, you feeling okay?”

I chuckle. “Yeah, I’ve got my eye on someone.” I glance Rowan’s way.

“Oh. Gotcha. Just thought I’d offer to play wingman for you, if needed.”

“Thanks,” I murmur seconds before Rowan’s date steps into the space beside me. He has his phone to his ear, doing that “everyone look at me, I’m cool because I have a cell phone” schtick that was old about twenty years ago.

“Yeah, man. She’s more than fuckable,” he says with a smarmy chuckle. “Great rack. Killer body. Blow-job lips. I mean, from where I stand, don’t be calling me later because I’ll be otherwise occupied this evening.”

I clench my jaw so hard and my hands so tight around my glass that I’m surprised both don’t shatter.

“Another round,” the fucker says to the bartender as I debate how my fist would feel plowing into his face. “Just enough to get her frisky.”

Rowan’s not mine by any means. Yet. But his words have my temper itching to be unleashed.

I glance Rowan’s way only to find our eyes meet across the short distance of the dimly lit bar. Shock flickers over her expression followed shortly by confusion. The confusion then morphs to her being pissed off if the narrowing of her eyes and the setting of her jaw are any indication.

Yes, I’m here, Rowan. Same place as you. Again.

I smile, lift up my glass, and nod as her date stiffs the bartender a tip and takes the drinks back to their table.

TWENTY-THREE

Rowan

I don’t hear a word Gregory Chapman says because I’m too busy fixating on the fact that Holden is sitting at the bar.

Sitting there with his perfectly cavalier attitude and devastating good looks as he blatantly watches me from afar.

“Right?” Gregory asks.

“I’m sorry. What did you say?”

I’m being a horrible date. Distracted. Not participating. Fake.

He’s a nice guy. Well educated with a good job, a decent sense of humor if a little dorky, and a good listener, but he has nothing on the man sitting at the bar watching my every move.

Just like he has been for the past week and a half.

If he wants to dangle a carrot and ignore me, then I can do the same. And so far, I’ve been successful at doing so.

Except for right now.

“I was just saying that with the current state of the economy…” Gregory looks at the server who just slid a martini in front of me. “I’m sorry, but I think you have the wrong table. We didn’t order this.”

The server flashes a quick smile and lifts her chin. “It’s compliments of the gentleman at the bar.”

Gregory whips his head over toward where she’s looking, but I don’t have to look. The martini says it all. It’s what I was drinking the night of the auction. The first night we met.

“Seriously?” Gregory mutters as he glares in the direction of Holden. “Send it back, please.”

I look up just in time to see the smirk in Holden’s profile as he lifts his drink to his lips. He finds this amusing. Such an asshole.

The server looks at both of us before reaching for it, but I stop her. “Even better, I’ll bring it back to him.”

“Rowan. That’s not—do you even know the guy? I mean, let me handle—”