“We were just dancing,” I mutter to her.
“Of course you were.” Mandy blinks her eyelashes at me. “And I was talking to the president of China. Look, he’s sitting at the bar over there.”
Stupidly, I follow her line of vision to the old man nursing a half-empty glass of what looks like scotch, his hooded eyes buried in his drink, his expression vacant.
She was being sarcastic, obviously. The fact that I didn’t catch on immediately is a sign that Kellan’s touch just caused my IQ to drop at least ten points.
“We were just dancing,” I repeat stupidly. Then I mutter, “Need to use the restroom,” and dash off before anyone can question my sanity…or morality.
Inside the bathroom, I stare at the reflection in the mirror, ignoring the redhead coating her glossy lips in another layer of sparkly pink. She eyes me curiously but doesn’t say a word as I keep staring at my rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes.
Holy shit!
I almost made out with Kellan out there, in front of everyone.
I can’t believe I just let him touch me like that. I let him kiss me in public.
Who is this person? Because I sure as hell don’t recognize myself.
I’m not an exhibitionist. I don’t even kiss in public so as not to offend anyone who might feel offended by a public display of affection.
Only, that wasn’t exactly affection.
It was raw want.
And I enjoyed it way too much.
“Gum?” the redhead asks and pushes a packet of something fruity toward me.
I shake my head and toss a hesitant smile her way. “No, thanks.”
“I’m Trish,” she says in the same slow drawl like Kellan’s.
“Ava.”
“New in town?” Her perfect eyebrows rise in question, and her fingers lift to brush a strand of glossy hair out of her face.
“Just passing through.”
“You staying with Kellan?” His name coming out of her mouth is like whiplash against my skin.
Her brows shoot up again, which I sense is an expression she does often when she wants an answer. But there’s something in her gaze. Like it’s more than just curiosity.
It’s surprise.
The door opens, and a bunch of giggling girls I’m not sure are even old enough to drink enter.
“Excuse me,” I say and head for a stall, barricading myself inside before Trish can continue her conversation. I’m not usually rude, but I’ve had enough of Kellan for one evening.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I wait until I think the restroom’s cleared before leaving the sanctuary that’s my stall and returning to the bar area.
Kellan and Mandy are sitting at a table, engaged in small talk with a guy who’s obviously very much interested in what Mandy has to say.
As soon as Mandy sees me, she waves at me. “She’s back.” She turns to the guy next to her. “This is Ava. Ava, this is Josh.” Mandy leans into me and yells in my ear a little louder than is necessary, “He’s a friend of Kellan’s.”
Of course he is. He even looks the part: all tall and muscular, with blue eyes the color of mountain rivers and sandy hair that, coupled with his tanned skin, gives him the same bad boy appearance Kellan has about him.
I can see they’re related somehow before Josh speaks up to set things straight. “We’re cousins, actually. Our dads were brothers.”
Ah.
I nod and shoot him a hesitant smile, deliberately ignoring Kellan’s heated stare. His fingers brush my leg beneath the table and I pull away, crossing my legs to make it harder for him to reach them.
The guy says, like we already know each other, “Let’s get the lady a drink.”
Mandy laughs, and like on cue, a woman in her early forties, wearing an infectious smile and the lowest cut top I’ve ever seen, approaches our table with a tray full of shots and slices of lime.
We don’t do shots...ever. And for a very good reason. Last time we did, bad things happened.
Someone wants to get us drunk, or why else would you ply a woman with tequila? And I have a pretty good idea who’s behind this grand plan.
I peer at Mandy, who just shrugs her shoulders at me and takes a glass.
“No, thank you.” I shake my head at the waitress and steal a glance at Kellan, who’s downright staring at me.
“Wine? Beer?” the other guy asks. He’s basically giving us options, so the shots weren’t his doing.
“You need to loosen up a bit,” Kellan says. “Live a little.”
“Are you calling me uptight?” I laugh. “Oh, wait. You did already.”
Given that I have so little self-control over myself even when sober, I shouldn’t be drinking more than I’ve already had, but the peer pressure is too much. Besides, this is a bar. No one’s having soda, unless it’s to accompany the scotch.
“Can we have another round, please?” Mandy says to the waitress. I watch her snake her way through the crowded space.
The music in the background’s getting louder.