“Whoa . . .” I knew he was a tough guy, ex-military, but I didn’t know he was violent. My belly rumbles and threatens to spill.
She leans back nodding. “Aden is gorgeous, but there’s something off about him.”
I look back to find him watching me. When our eyes meet, the corner of his mouth lifts in a crooked smile that sends flutters throughout my body.
Sawyer would never give a guy with this kind of violent history a second of her time.
Leave it to Celia to fall for a guy who’s nothing but trouble.
TEN
ADEN
“So we’re good?” I toss cash on the bar for the two drinks Lenny just made for me.
He snatches the money and nods. “As long as you’re a paying customer and you don’t start shit in my bar we’re good.”
I try to ignore his condescending tone and move through the room, weaving around people and tables. The cramped space has paranoia clawing at my nerves. My gaze is steady on Celia and imagining peeling those clothes off her to see how far those freckles go distracts me from the delusions.
“Here.”
Celia takes the drink from me and sniffs it. “What is it?”
“Ginger ale.”
She seems relieved and takes a long pull from her straw.
“Whoa, ginger ale.” Z?e’s words drip with sarcasm. “You guys are going big tonight, huh? You better not be driving.”
I take a swig and frown at the sugary sweetness. It’s been years since I’ve had a soda that didn’t have rum or whiskey in it, and the absence is an odd change. I have a limited number of days with Celia and if this date leads where I’m hoping, there’s no way I’m going to be drunk for that. “I don’t see you with a drink.”
Z?e jumps off her stool. “Excellent point! I’ll be right back.”
Celia’s stirring her soda with the straw and motions to the recently vacated stool. “Have a seat.”
“Nah. I’m good.” I lean back against the brick wall and the hardness buys me a little peace of mind. Thankfully the whiskey from dinner is still coursing through my veins, which takes the sting off being in a room with this many people. But even still, I can’t give them my back. Not if I want to keep my promise to Lenny about not starting trouble.
She shifts around uncomfortably in her seat and fidgets with her straw. I zero in on her body language; one hand rubbing up and down her thigh obsessively, chin dipped to her chest, avoiding eye contact.
“Hey.”
She peers up at me and her eyes dart around.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“What makes you think there’s something going on?”
I place my drink down and lean in close, making sure to hold her violently green eyes with mine. “Don’t answer a question with a question. You’re not comfortable here. Why?”
Her eyes flare wide and then she blinks. “I guess . . . let’s just say I came back here a different person and . . .” She takes a sip of her drink. “I don’t want to run into people I used to know.”
“Then why did we come here?”
She shakes her head and mumbles, “It’s stupid.”
I hook her chin and bring her eyes back to mine. “Tell me.”
She searches my eyes, I assume trying to figure out what her chances are of me letting her off the hook. I lift a brow, hardening my gaze. She sighs and straightens one leg to dig into her pocket and pull out a quarter. Flipping it over in her hand she shows it to me. “Because of this.”
I grab the coin from her and study it. Nothing special about it, looks like an average everyday quarter. “I don’t get it.”
“I tend to overthink things so when I’m forced with a decision I flip the coin.”
“No shit?”
She smiles, but it’s shy, almost embarrassed. “I told you it was stupid.”
“What if it lands on something you don’t want—”
“Hey, Celia!”
Her eyes flash with panic before she turns toward the voice of a woman who is shoving her way through the crowd toward us. It isn’t until she emerges from the crowd that I recognize her.
She throws her arms around my date. “Z?e told me you were back!”
Celia’s eyes dart to mine in a silent plea for rescue as she awkwardly pats the back of her unwanted guest. “Yeah, I am back.”
“It hasn’t been the same here without you!” She pulls away and looks at me as if she just realized I’m standing here. “Aden, hey . . . Lenny know you’re here?”
“Polly.” I grit my teeth. “He does.”
She drops onto the stool closest to Celia. “So? Where were you this time? Bali? Portugal? Spain?”
Celia shifts on her seat, the discomfort she spoke about earlier clearly showing in her body language. She clears her throat and sips her soda. “Phoenix.”
Polly wrinkles her nose. “Phoenix. Like Arizona?”
“Mm-hmm.” Celia has her straw in her mouth guzzling down her drink and pretty soon it’ll be gone and she’ll have no excuse to avoid talking.
“Why Phoenix? Sounds . . . boring.”
“Family stuff.”
“Oh yeah? Like what? Everything okay?”
The bubbling slurp signaling the end of her drink sounds just before she sets the empty glass down. “Sure.”
“Were you there to see your sister?”
Celia’s chin jerks toward Polly. “Why would you think that?”
Polly frowns. “I know you worry about her.”
“I do?” Her voice is almost a whisper and I have to wonder if she really spoke or I imagined it.
“Oh, I don’t know, just from what you said about her having no life and having that thing where she’s afraid to leave her house and stuff . . . what’s that called . . .” She purses her lips.
“Agoraphobia.” Celia’s face looks paler than usual.
I put my hand on her shoulder and squeeze, hoping to signal to her that maybe it’s time to go. Clearly whatever shit she’s dealing with about seeing old friends is more serious than I thought.
“Yes!” Polly grins. “Was that why you went?” Her eyes widen. “Did your sister finally snap and lock herself in her house like you predicted?”
Celia’s eyes come to mine and the terror I see flash in those emerald depths triggers something in my chest that has me helping her off her stool. “Come on, it’s time to go.”
“Hold on, Aden . . .” Polly stands too. “You guys just got here.”
“I’m sorry.” Celia stumbles to get through the cluster of barstools. “We have plans to, uh . . .”
I wrap my arm around her waist, surprised at how quickly she leans into me for support. “We’re late for our movie.”
“Movie . . .?” Polly mumbles.
“Yeah, we’ll catch up later.” Celia doesn’t look at the woman, but allows me to guide her out of the bar.
“Okay, call me!” Polly yells to our backs as we push through the crowd.
Once we’re outside I lead her down the sidewalk toward the beach, allowing the silence between us to stretch on until we reach a bench just shy of the sand. I motion for her to sit and she drops like dead weight, her eyes fixed on the black horizon, the only light coming from the moon and a flickering street lamp.
Too anxious to sit and trying to ignore the unwarranted paranoia, I pace with my fists propped on my hips. “Start talking.”
She blinks, as if my voice called her from wherever she was. “Excuse me?”