I spun around and glared at him. Which was hard. Because as annoyed as I was, I couldn’t ignore the fact that he looked damn good in a short-sleeved, white, button-down shirt. His tattoos peeked out from beneath the fabric, decorating his arm right down to his wrist. The starchily-pressed collar made his neck tattoo play peek-a-boo.
“Yes,” I said simply. “Throwing a drink, preferably red wine, over you will make me feel a lot better.”
“Why are you here?” Camille asked him, a whine in her voice. “I told you we wanted to chill out without you.”
Brett dropped his gaze to my lower legs where I was wearing the same lace-up boots I’d worn the night we had our non-date dinner and not actually eaten a thing. “Because,” he said to my boots before he looked up and at his sister. “Hayley is on her own at the bed and breakfast tonight and the place is filled with the guys at the party. Dad wants me to keep an eye on them and see if they get busy.”
“How do you know they’re here?”
“I called Raven. How else do you think I fucking know?”
“Oooh,” Camille teased. “Is being in a bar and unable to pick up a woman cramping your style?”
“Don’t you have a girl’s night to be having fun at?”
I grabbed Camille’s arm and pulled her back when she took a quick step toward her brother. “We were going to have fun until we found out you were here. Now I think it’s all but ruined.”
Camille dug her cell out of her purse and looked at Brett and said, “I’m calling Dad.”
Brett waited until she was out of earshot. “Do you think she realizes I stopped being scared by that threat like fifteen years ago?”
For the record, yes, I did think Camille realized it. I also didn’t think she was calling to tattle, but more to check that he wasn’t bullshitting us for his reason for being here.
“Why are you really here?”
He snapped his attention back to me. Or, more specifically, my boots.
“I have to say, guys are usually looking at my tits when they’re paying attention to a part of me that isn’t my face.
“Sorry,” he murmured, sounding exactly like he wasn’t. “I just keep thinking about what those boots would feel like with your legs wrapped around my neck.”
“Soft. They’re suede.” I smirked.
I knew exactly what he meant, and snark was my only defense against it. Mostly because my clitoris was a traitorous whore and had perked up at his words.
“I’m sorry, that came out wrong.” A fierce lust burned in his eyes as his found mine. “I meant to say that I can’t wait to see what those boots feel like when you wrap your legs around my neck.”
There she was again. My clitoris was throbbing like hell.
I clenched my legs together. Please don’t notice. Please don’t notice. This was all kinds of wrong. I hated him, so why did I kinda, sorta, really want him?
“Is that how you pick up girls? No wonder you get stuck with the gold diggers,” I fired back.
He held his hands up in front of his chest. “Point well made. Now I see I should have been chasing girls like you. This is fun.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What exactly is fun about this?”
Brett took one step toward me and rolled a lock of my hair between his finger and thumb. He watched it for a moment before he tickled me under the chin with it. “Everything,” he said in a low voice, and my skin tingled where he ghosted his thumb along the curve of my jaw. “But mostly, it’s fun seeing how long it’ll take before you break.”
“Break what? Your neck?”
He stopped moving, his thumb just at the edge of my chin. His eyes blazed with both desire and determination, and my lips parted just enough for a tiny exhale to escape between them.
“I don’t know if you’re cute or infuriating,” he mused.
“Infuriatingly cute.”
“Cutely infuriating,” he shot back.
“Not really an insult. Just an astute observation.” I knocked his hand from my chin, finally, and took a step back. “Now in case you weren’t aware, I’m here to escape your crap. So, if you’d be so kind as to not say another word to me all night, I’d appreciate it.” I smiled, moving away even further just as Camille rejoined us.
Brett slowly dragged his eyes away from me. “Well?” he asked Camille. “Did your little phone call prove I was telling the truth?”
“Yes, it did.” Her jaw was clamped tightly shut. That was all she said to him before she grabbed my hand. “Come on. I want a Pussy Pounder.”
I raised my eyebrows as she quite literally dragged me toward the door. “Does it come with the guy to do the pounding?”
She grinned over her shoulder. “Depends if you pull the server.” She flashed the same grin to the guy on the door and we were both swept inside.
I kinda missed being ID’d. I wasn’t even that old. I was only twenty-six. Did I look older?
Why was I even worrying about that?
Camille pulled me right up to the bar. It wasn’t as busy in here as I expected it was, but I instantly fell in love with the entire place. Perhaps part of that was because it wasn’t that busy, but I was pretty sure it was because of how I felt as I stood here. It was like magic, the way this bar made you feel. Sure, people were talking loudly and the music was even louder, but something about the way bright, white fairy lights twinkled along the ceiling beams and the length of the bar, combined with the light, leather furniture, was pretty special.
Camille gave me a knowing look with a raise of her eyebrows and leaned over the bar. “Hey, Raven! Who do I have to blow to get served around here?”
A woman around our age with fittingly dark hair threw her head back and laughed. Ice clinked inside the metal cocktail shaker in her hand, and she threw Camille a wink before she tossed the shaker in the air. It landed back in her hand the right way up, and she popped off the lid without seemingly moving, then filled three martini-style glasses with an electric blue liquid in one long pour.
Somehow, amazingly, not a single drop of liquid splashed onto the bar.
My eyebrows shot up. Well then, that was a fancy piece of drink pouring, wasn’t it?
After taking money, Raven slid down the bar and leaned forward in front of us. She looked me over with bright blue eyes. “No, wait, don’t tell me,” she said over the music. “Dark hair, dark eyes, look of wonderment...you’re Lani.”
“How did you know that?” I half-smiled.
“I could be cocky and tell you it’s because I’m fucking awesome, or I could be honest and say Brett called and told me not to tell you he’d be here. Whoops.” She smirked and stood up straight. “Looks like that went wrong.”
“Don’t worry. He already pissed me off outside.”
“Ah.” She leaned back and went up onto her toes, looking to the side. “Yep, that explains why he’s glaring at me.” She grinned sassily and wiggled her fingers in what I presumed was his direction.
My smile dropped a little when Raven laughed.
Camille obviously noticed because she nudged me, leaned in, and said, “Raven moved here from Key West. She worked in this place when it was Rocky’s Diner—after you left—and the moment she looked at Brett, she told him that if he tried hitting on her, she’d hit on him with a machete.”