Rescuing the Bad Boy (Second Chance #2)(32)

“I’ll give him three.” Donovan hadn’t been in a fight in a while, but he guessed it was like riding a bike. And right now, his fist was twitching for some action. Bouncing it off Torsett’s weak chin would be satisfying. Donovan would probably sleep like a baby tonight.

“You’re making her uncomfortable,” Scott said, his hand moving to grasp her waist.

Donovan leaned into Sofie’s palm. “One.”

“Donovan.” Her tone was a warning.

He kept his eyes on Scott. “Tell me, Scampi, the way this douche is touching you isn’t making you uncomfortable, and I’ll leave you two to your drinks.”

Scott glared up at him.

“I’m fine,” she clipped, giving Donovan another shove before dropping her hands to her sides. But she hadn’t told him to go away, and she hadn’t denied Scott was making her uncomfortable.

“I was right. Lying is your new thing.”

She sputtered a disgusted sound.

“I’ve had her ass in my hands,” he told Torsett. “I’ve had her mouth on mine. I know when she likes someone touching her, and when she doesn’t. And man, she does not like you touching her. So again, you got two more seconds before I escort you out by the throat.”

Scott licked his lips. He was starting to look nervous. He turned to Scampi. “You guys have a thing I should know about?”

“What? No,” she answered, sounding a little offended.

“Using me to get back at an ex-boyfriend, really? I was wondering why you asked me out for coffee.”

She asked him out? Donovan felt his blood pressure raise.

“And you,” Scott said to him. “Threatening me? You’re as immature as you used to be.”

If Torsett was trying to hurt his feelings, he failed.

“You’re as chicken-shit as you used to be,” Donovan returned.

“Donny’s not my boyfriend. Wasn’t ever my boyfriend, actually,” she muttered to herself.

Donovan slid his eyes to Sofie. She jutted her chin out. He could do without the tone.

“I have to be in court Monday morning,” Scott said, straightening his jacket, “or I’d show Sofie how an ass-kicking is really done.”

A low laugh left Donovan’s throat. “Lucky me, I guess.”

“Good night, Sofia,” Scott said.

The farther he got away, the better Donovan felt. Until Sofie promised, “I’ll call you.”

“She won’t,” Donovan called after him.

Scott started to respond, but someone he knew interrupted him at the door, slapping his arm and extending a hand. Attention diverted, Scott smiled and shook the older man’s hand.

Donovan felt himself smile.

“Thanks a lot!” Sofie hissed.

“You’re welcome.”

“I don’t need saving, you know.”

That was probably true. But not the point.

“You telling me you like the way he touched you? Because from where I stood, didn’t look that way.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. He was right. She hadn’t liked it. He thought of her uncomfortable posture when Torsett touched her and his temper shot to eleven. He turned for the door, where Torsett was still loitering.

“I’ll be right back.”

She gripped his forearm and tugged. “Okay, okay.”

Donovan faced her.

“No, all right? I didn’t like him touching me. But this is what it’s like for a girl on a date. Guys test their boundaries.”

He wondered how many other guys had “tested her boundaries,” and felt a surge of inexplicable jealousy. She wasn’t his. Like she said, she never was. He hated the idea of her being mistreated by anyone, but he couldn’t seem to focus on that. Not with her warm palm on his arm. There was always something about her touch that calmed him.

Though right about now, her touch was revving him up.

“What if he would have hit you?” she asked, concern bleeding into her gaze.

He shrugged. “I would have hit him back.”

“He could have hurt you.”

God, she was cute when she worried about him. Made him forget he didn’t want her to.

Chuckling, he said, “No, Scampi. He couldn’t have.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, tough guy. Scott was my ride. Now you have to drive me home. I’m ordering a drink.”

Fine by him.

“And you’re paying,” she informed him.

His lips twitched, curling into a smile. He held up a hand to signal the bartender.





CHAPTER NINE




The bartender shuffled off to get Sofie a glass of white wine. She kept her eyes on the bottles lining the bar shelves and tried to decide if she was more frustrated or embarrassed by Donovan’s running off her date.

Coin toss.

She turned to meet his narrowed gaze, determined to get the upper hand before he pissed in a corner and claimed her as property.

“So this is your plan? Follow me around and thwart my attempts to get laid? I didn’t know you had more than a passing interest in who I slept with.”

Donovan’s face went from casually peeved to severe. Granted, she was needling him on purpose, and, technically, lying like he’d accused her of a few minutes ago. No way had she planned on sleeping with Scott Torsett tonight… if ever. Yes, he was nice to hang out with—or at least he was until he’d had one too many vodka tonics at dinner. By the time they arrived at Salty Dog, he’d obviously felt comfortable enough to get handsy. His roaming palms were nothing she couldn’t handle—was something she’d handled before with other guys. She wasn’t kidding about men testing boundaries—they did it all the time—but she certainly hadn’t needed Donny to run interference.