I watch her walk away, telling myself not to call her back so I can pick her brain about Jane. She heads out from behind the bar and starts clearing a table, and I turn back to my mug, taking a huge sip. Yeah… I think I need Joe to get me out of here. My testimony is important enough and my acts of service for my government should easily get me relocated. I’ll call him in the morning, he’ll get me transferred somewhere far away, and I can put Jane Cresson out of my mind.
Someone bumps into me before I feel them slide into an empty stool on my right. I don’t bother to look, preferring instead to finish off my beer and perhaps order another, but my hand freezes halfway to my mug when I hear Jane say very softly, “Hey, Kyle.”
Her voice is gentle and her eyes are knowing. I hate she’s seeing me like this. This makes me pissy. “What do you want?”
She nods her head slightly, as if she’s not surprised by my attitude. But then, she nudges my shoulder with her own and says, “You’re supposed to say, ‘Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine’.”
I blink at her, my brain feeling like sludge. “What?”
“Casablanca,” she murmurs. “1942.”
“Never saw it,” I mutter and pick my beer up.
It’s stopped by her hand on my wrist with a gentle pressure. I turn to look at her, and she leans in to whisper in a voice so low I can barely hear her, “Come on. Why don’t you let me take you home? You’ve had enough to drink.”
“Why are you whispering?” I ask her with narrowed eyes.
She pulls back from me quickly, dropping her hand from my wrist. “I don’t know. I just didn’t want you to make a scene.”
“A scene?” I ask, confused. “Why would I do that?”
“Well, you’re drunk,” she points out. “And Miranda called me when she first came on shift to tell me you were here and drunk, and figured you could use a lift home.”
“Yes, I am drunk, but I’m sure I can walk out of here just fine without falling on my ass,” I tell her, pleased that actually came out sounding semi-coherent. “And I can walk home just fine too, so no worries I’d ’cause a scene’.”
“I’m not worried about that type of scene,” she says in exasperation. “I didn’t know if you’d be pissed I came or that I asked you to leave.”
I give her a sardonic smile and lean toward her. “Well, you don’t have to worry. I’m not pissed you asked me to leave.”
She gives me a relieved look. “Alright. Then let’s go.”
“Not leaving either,” I tell her adamantly. “I’m enjoying myself right here.”
“Kyle,” she says hesitantly. “Let me take you home, get you to bed. Sleep it off, and then we can talk about this tomorrow.”
Oh, now she wants to talk?
“Nothing to talk about,” I say stubbornly, ignoring the small cramp in my chest when I see her face fall in disappointment.
“There’s not?” she asks softly.
“Nope. Nothing to talk about at all,” I confirm, ignoring the cramp as it gets more painful. I know I’m being a dick, but really… it’s best to cut this off right here and right now. Jane will never be able to handle all the ways in which I can break her. I don’t consider for a second that she could break me.
Liar.
Jane’s eyes search mine, trying to reveal my true feelings. I hold her gaze and remain silent.
Her shoulders slump and she gives a small nod before sliding off the stool. “Alright. Take care, Kyle.”
My chest feels like it’s caving inward as I watch her walk away from me. She heads over to Miranda, who is standing near the door, and they talk quietly. Miranda looks over at me once and glares, then turns back to whatever Jane is telling her.
A hand slides up my spine, startling me, and fingers curve around the back of my neck. Lips touch my ear and a sexy voice says, “Kyle… baby. It’s been a long time since you’ve been in. Want to have a little fun tonight?”
Leaning to the right to pull away from her, I give her a brush-off. “Not interested, Barb.”
She pouts at me and hops on the barstool Jane had vacated, putting her hand on my thigh and sliding it upward to my crotch. “Come on, sugar. You know I got what you want.”
My hand clamps on her wrist, stops its ascent up my leg, and my gaze cuts over her shoulder to Jane. And fuck… she’s staring right at us, eyes wide and face pale. Then she shoots me that look… the one that says I’m an unbelievable asshole, right before she turns around and jets out the door.
“Christ,” I mutter as I throw Barb’s hand off me and lurch off the barstool. I almost careen into a small table where two patrons sit closely together, but gain my balance for a fraction of a second before I stumble toward the door.
Miranda meets me there, and I growl at her. “Don’t even think about trying to stop me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she says with a wink as she opens the door for me. She gives me a hearty pat on my shoulder before shoving me forward. “Go get her, tiger.”
Fuck, I’m drunk. I practically fall through the door, immediately going down to one knee on the concrete, which hurts like a son of a bitch. I manage to catch a glimpse of Jane as she walks quickly toward her car.
“Jane,” I call out to her as I push myself up. “Wait.”
She walks faster so I take off after her, intent on running her down.