Last on the List (Wait With Me #5)(46)

His lips turn down curiously as he shakes the ice in his rocks glass. “Having a drink.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re at a bar.” He looks around at all the patrons with a smug look of contentment. Just then, Dakota comes strolling back from the bathrooms, and her jaw drops when she spots Max. She points at him obnoxiously and begins making lewd gestures and thrusting her hips forward.

Thanks, bestie.

“I know we’re at a bar. I’ve been here all night,” I snap, my hands balled up into fists on my lap. “Why are you at this bar? How long have you even been here?”

He shrugs dismissively. “Maybe an hour.”

“Who are you here with?”

“You.” His gaze lowers to my legs, and my body heats involuntarily.

“Who’s with Everly?” I ask, my chest rising and falling with rapid breaths I can’t seem to get control of.

Max sets his glass down and runs a finger around the rim. “Everly is having a sleepover at Uncle Wyatt’s.”

“Oh,” I reply dumbly.

“How was your date?” Max’s eyes narrow as the T on date seems to be difficult for him to say.

“It was okay until a few minutes ago.”

The muscle in his jaw jumps as he inhales deeply through his nose. “Were you flirting with him?”

His question catches me off guard. “When?”

“When you touched his face,” Max responds instantly, his eyes holding mine captive as the entire bar seems to fade to darkness all around us.

My voice is weak when I stammer, “I…touched his eyebrows.”

“You touched his eyebrows?” Max repeats the words like they’re curses. He shoots me an exasperated look and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why would you touch his eyebrows?”

“Because they rival Eugene Levy’s from Schitt’s Creek, and I wanted to see how they felt,” I blurt out honestly because I have no idea how else to explain my behavior. It is undeniably weird.

His head turns forward as his jaw shifts from side to side, his body vibrating with irritation. “You can’t just go around touching men’s eyebrows, Cassandra.”

“Why not?”

“Because it makes them think you want to fuck them.” His voice is acidic as he stares broodingly back at me.

I inhale sharply at his vulgar response. It’s definitely not the way I’m used to him speaking to me. I’m also not used to seeing him at a bar. At my bar specifically. Which is why his opinion on this situation doesn’t mean anything to me.

I jut my chin out defiantly. “Other men’s thoughts are not my problem.”

“No, but they’re mine,” he growls and then swivels in his stool. His denim-clad legs straddle me as he hovers closer, blanketing me in his mouthwatering cologne and the spicy scent of the whiskey on his breath. His brow furrows as he scrutinizes my entire face. “You would really hook up with another man with my mark still on you?”

Jaw? Meet floor.

Blood rushes in my ears as my hand moves to my chest to cover the mark he’s referring to. I’ve been concealing it all freaking week and doing my best to forget about its existence. But him throwing it in my face right now thrusts me right back to that stormy night in my cottage.

That sinful, wild, unforgettable night.

My heart thunders beneath my palm as I attempt to find the breath that has vacated my lungs. “It’s not like this is a brand, Max.”

His eyes flinch as his gaze drops to my hand. “You sure about that?”

Liquid heat pools between my legs, and I have to fight the urge to rub my thighs together. His eyes are smoldering. On me.

Any other man who would have the nerve to say this to me would probably get a drink thrown in his face.

Max is another story.

I struggle to swallow the knot in my throat. “A week ago, you couldn’t get away from me fast enough.”

His eyes darken as he quirks a brow. “Things change.”

Anxiety stirs in my belly at the words coming out of his mouth. They are words I’ve wanted to hear ever since our first kiss. Yet still, they’re hard to believe, hard to process, hard to compute. Is this really what I even want anymore?

I turn in my chair, my head whirling with the unmistakable intention in Max’s eye. I can’t think with him staring at me like that. I need space. I need time. I need… “To pee.”

I’m not sure which of those words I said out loud as I stand, my ankles wobbling in my heels as I use stray barstools for balance to make my way to the dingy dive bar bathroom located in the basement. I can feel Max’s eyes on me as I walk away, and I have to stop myself from looking back at him.

Clicking the lock on the bathroom door, I flatten myself against the wall, trying to catch my breath and figure out what the hell just went on up there?

Why is Max here? Why did he send Jeff home? Why is he looking at me like that after blowing me off once? I hate that I have insecurities bubbling up, but rejection does funny things to people. And I refuse to put myself in the position to be humiliated again.

I pull my phone out of my purse and send a quick text to Dakota.

Me: Meet me in the bathroom.

While waiting for her, I debate if Max’s interest in me is real or just a product of the games I was playing earlier in the week. Did he come here specifically to crash my date? If jealousy is the only reason Max is here, I don’t think I’m interested.