Lead Me Home (Fight for Me #3)(130)

Disbelieving, amused laughter trickled from her. “Nope.”

“Married? God, tell me you’re not married.” It was all flirt and tease, supplied by the relief I wasn’t going to have to go around some fucker to get to her, because she wasn’t wearing a ring and I was sure I already had the answer to that question.

She bit at her bottom lip, a little hard, the skin blanching beneath the firm hold of her teeth. The redness on her face throbbed. “No,” she finally said.

“Then what?”

“I just don’t have time for those kinds of distractions.”

“It’s not a distraction. Everyone has to eat.”

With a small laugh, she shook her head a little, her tone sliding back into amusement. “You hardly look like the kind of guy who just wants dinner.”

“Just dinner.” I flashed her my best grin. “I won’t bite.”

Her gaze skidded all over me, across the ratted-out old concert tee stretched across my chest, tracing down over my arms covered in ink, slow to travel back to my face. The expression on hers told me she didn’t believe me for a second.

“I promise,” I said, knowing it was an absolute lie.

She shook her head with a wry smile. “As tempting as it is, I’m going to have to pass. I don’t really make it a habit of going out with guys who show up at the bar.” She shrugged a delicate bare shoulder, and my mouth watered. The only thing I wanted was a taste of that delicious skin.

“Bad for business, you know.”

“Then I won’t come back and I won’t be your customer. How’s that?”

She raised her eyebrows. “See…bad for business.”

She was all feisty now, like a fucking cute little kitten swatting at the ball of yarn I kept rolling her way.

And I really, really wanted to play.

“I’ll send in replacements…I know three or four guys I could coerce into taking my place. It’s a win-win.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she said, this time slanting a sweet smile my direction.

“Not ridiculous. I just know when I want something and I’m willing to put in the work to get it.”

She took an almost imperceptible step back, but one I noticed, shuttering and shielding and throwing up all kinds of walls.

Shit. Apparently that was the wrong thing to say.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Didn’t you?” she accused.

Damn. Okay. I had no fucking clue what I was doing right now, because I was one hundred percent out of my element. Wasn’t lying when I said I never minded the work, but it wasn’t usually required when it came to women.

She took another step away. I wanted to reach out and grab her. Stop her. Because I knew she was running away.

Stay.

Stay.

Stay.

She straightened herself out. “Listen, it’s just about closing. Anything else I can get you before you go?”

I slumped back.

Fuck.

This was definitely not going like I expected it to.

“No. I’m good.”

She turned and walked away from me. For a few minutes I sat there, wondering what in the hell I was doing. Contemplating why when she walked away, it felt like I was losing something. Finally, I climbed to my feet, crossed the now almost empty bar, and plodded down the dimly lit hallway, directed by the sign that read Restrooms inside a big pointing index finger.

Apparently drunk assholes needed a little extra help.

I took a piss, washed my hands, and ran my hands over my face as I stared at myself in the dingy mirror.

My eyes didn’t even hint toward green. They were a roiling grey. Wild. Unsettled.

Wasn’t used to strangers having the power to wind me so tight. Wasn’t used to the uncontrolled adrenaline spike that slammed me when she came near, sending all this unfound anticipation firing through my nerves.

Though now it shivered through me like a high gone bad.

Shit.

Exhaling heavily, I stepped outside the restroom and into the long hallway.

Shea stood at the end of it, scribbling something onto a board hanging on the wall.

My lungs squeezed painfully, and that tension grew thick. Solid. Suffocating.

I felt her tense when she sensed me there, that invisible tether stretched taut between us straightening her spine, long hair swishing down her back.

Powerless to stop myself, I edged forward, unable to grasp the draw this girl held over me.

But it was there.

Unmistakable.

Irresistible.

The closer I got, the harder I breathed. Inhale. Exhale. Matching her. Matching me.

Her shoulders lifted and fell, anticipating, and I stopped only inches from my chest meeting her back. For the longest moment we stood there saying nothing, because the silence was too busy shouting a million questions neither of us had the answers to.

God, she smelled delicious, and I had the fundamental urge to get closer.

I lifted my hand, and my fingers grazed across the soft curls that bounced along the small of her back. My cautious touch skimmed up her side, barely brushing over her ribs, up, up, up as it swept under her arm still set to scrawl her pretty script on the whiteboard.

A small gasp shot from her when she realized the hold I had on her, the way my palm came up to rest at the center of her chest, right over her heart that thudded wildly against my touch.