You're to Blame(33)

Chapter Ten





Duke


Working and having Charlotte here at Murphy’s has me on edge. Her bouncing back and forth to the bar as if everything is normal is a constant mind fuck. I’m not blind. The way she looks at me is enough to make my damn knees want to bow in front of her. She’s on a damn pedestal, and I’m the one holding her up. Things are complicated and moving towards the edge of disaster.

When I see Rachel dancing in the middle of the line, I wave her forward. “Where’s she at?”

Rachel takes the last sip of her drink, offering me the empty cup. I fill it to brim with our signature mixture and hand it back. She grins, thanking me. “Charlotte’s in the bathroom. Chill out. Why do you even care, huh?”

Rachel has been trying to get me to say the words. If I speak them out loud, then they’re real. If I stay silent, well, then no harm is done. A little skewed and fucked up, but it’s the system I’m using to make this thing between Charlotte and me easier.

“It’s busy, is all.” I shuffle down the bar to help Lydia with orders.

Shots and drinks are poured until I can’t focus on any one thing. We’re so busy I forget to keep a look out for Charlotte and Rachel.

“She’s okay,” Lydia calls to me, catching me scanning the room. “They’re sitting at a table near the dance floor. Derks has already stopped by to check on them. You can unload the worry from your eyes.”

Okay, so I’m a little on edge. A lot on edge, if others are beginning to notice.

“I’m not worried.” I shake my head, wiping down the bar top.

“Mmhmm...” Lydia raises an eyebrow, circling back to clear out her apron.

I glance over the crowd to make sure the room is in order, and notice a tall guy hovering over Charlotte. He bends down and whispers something in her ear. Worry wrinkles the corner of her eyes, and a look I’ve never seen crosses her flawless face. My entire world is painted red.

“Lyd, take care of the bar,” I shout, shoving through the crowd.

Ten steps are all it takes to get to her.

“I don’t think so,” Charlotte says to the stranger, returning her attention to Rachel. That’s my girl. Dismiss this asshole.

“Oh, come on, sweetheart. Just one dance.” His smirk says it all. This guy is not used to hearing no. He’s two seconds away from getting a real answer from my fist.

With conviction and determination, she shakes her head. “Like I said before, no, thank you.”

Rachel’s eyes spring wide open when she sees me. She looks like a deer spotlighted in headlights on the side of the highway. Relief floods her expression, and I clear my throat to jostle this assholes attention away from Charlotte.

The stranger rests his hand on the back of Charlotte’s chair, leaning down towards her once again and circling his finger through the ends of her hair.

“You heard the lady, so why don’t you move along?” My hand wraps around his wrist, and I pull him off, flinging him as far from the table, while resisting the urge to pulverize him into the floor.

“Why don’t you mind your own business?” He squares his shoulder, ready for a fight my body is willing to finish.

“Charlotte, do you want this guy bugging you?” I jerk my thumb at him, and she shakes her head no. He finally takes her response for what it is and rejoins his friends with his tail tucked between his legs.

“How’d you know he was bothering me?” Charlotte question isn’t a simple one, and she knows it. It’s why she asks. Her eyes glow with an eagerness, fishing for information, like the journalist she is.

“I happened to be... I was watching...” How do I say this without sounding like a fucking creep? Let’s be real. I am, by definition, a creep. I’ve watched her every move, and it’s a busy Saturday night. My tips are bound to be shit, and I owe Lydia an apology for placing the brunt of the work on her while I daydream and stand watch for a girl who isn’t even mine.

“You were watching me.” A devastating grin shifts onto her face. The knowledge of my eyes raking over her amuses her.

I lean forward, my lips against her ear. Her perfume, a hint of lavender and honey, sweet like I assume she tastes, clouds every logical thought in my head. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t.”

There’s no need to glance back at her when I walk to the bar. Her blue eyes smolder. The thought of my eyes on her shoots a hot thrill to what I hope is the sweet spot between her legs.

“Jesus, what did you say to her?” Lydia nods her chin over my shoulder. I dry the cups beside the sink.

“Nothing, why?” I lie, placing them on the rack before the next stampede comes through.

“Just wondering why her mouth’s hung open, like she’s waiting for someone to pass by and stick his di–” I cut a stern expression at her.

“Please don’t finish that sentence.” Of course, it’s not a horrible image as long as it’s my dick. I’d come in seconds if those lips were wrapped around me. I adjust myself through my jeans at the thought.

“Remember the time you said you didn’t like Charlotte?” Lydia slides a look to Charlotte and turns on me. “And I said this shit was going to blow up in your face?”

“What’s your point?” I groan, not wanting to hear again what a fucking mess I’m making.