Burying Water (Burying Water #1)(63)

Amber leans in next to me and drops her voice. “They dated back in high school for a bit.”

“Really?” My chest burns with envy as I watch her finally pull away but not step back. “What happened?”

Amber takes a drink, her eyes flickering between her brother and his friend. “Same thing that always happens. I guess my brother got bored and dumped her. She’s a nice girl.”

“And he doesn’t like nice girls?” While Bonnie introduces herself to his friend, Jesse’s eyes scan the table. Until they settle on me.

Amber leans in until she’s whispering in my ear. “He’s never been into the rich, entitled girls. Don’t get me wrong—Bonnie’s nice and she’s one of my best friends, but she’s spoiled and she can be fake sometimes. They were a bad fit from the start. Clearly she still has a thing for him.”

Almost on cue, Bonnie tosses her long locks over her shoulder and throws her head back to laugh over something his friend said, her eyes on Jesse.

Yes, clearly.

I guess the question is, is he still not into rich, entitled girls?

That makes me wonder if, with my diamond necklace and my sparkly dress and one ridiculously high heel, I once fit that description.

Aside from a quick glance my way, Jesse seems into their conversation. I try not to watch, but it’s impossible. That is, until his friend comes back from grabbing drinks at the bar and catches my eye. He stares at me until I duck my face into my beer, feeling my cheeks burn.

Several people around the table try to strike up a conversation with me with a “Hey, Water . . . ,” followed by a question. I answer them the best I can, with a smile.

And, always, a lie.

As my lies start piling up faster than the people filtering through the door, I begin to get uncomfortable. I can’t be honest with these people. I can’t be honest with anyone except the Welles family, Ginny, and Dr. Weimer.

I excuse myself to grab a glass of water at the bar because the beer is making me feel light-headed. If I was ever much of a drinker, I definitely am a lightweight now.

“Hey, Water.” A wall of chest and bright blue eyes meet my gaze when I turn around. “We didn’t officially meet. I’m Dean.”

“Hi,” I say with a nod, stepping back so I don’t have to tip my head back and risk my hair falling.

“You having fun?”

My gaze drifts around the rustic bar, taking in the various animal horns. “Yeah. I like this place.”

“You from around here?”

Good question. I don’t know, though I have to assume not, seeing as I haven’t run into a single person who recognizes me. If I say no, then I have to get into a long conversation of lies. So I settle on, “I am now.”

He eases a boot on the bar rail. “I’m surprised I haven’t seen you before. I would have remembered you.”

Just as I start to shrug, someone shoves me from behind and I tumble into Dean, my face mashing against his chest. He ropes one strong arm around my shoulders while the other stretches out somewhere behind me. “Hey, watch it or you’re out of here,” he warns the guy.

I hear someone mutter a “sorry” behind me as I peel myself off of Dean’s body, quickly adjusting my hair that got pushed back.

Not quickly enough.

“Holy shit.” Dean stops my hand in his, a shocked frown wrinkling his forehead. “What happened to your face?”

The person standing just behind Dean turns at his words and now stares at me. I feel the bartender staring at me. And others. Others are staring at me, at my face.

I finally manage to yank my hand from Dean’s grasp and swipe my hair forward to cover the scar.

That’s when Jesse appears. “Don’t you ever f**king grab her like that,” he growls, edging in between us, forcing me to take a step back.

“I didn’t grab her. And get the hell away from me, Welles, or I’ll kick your ass out and there’s nothing your daddy can do about that.” As if Dean wasn’t using his full size before, he suddenly appears larger, looming over Jesse. They may be the same height, but where Jesse is lean and muscular, Dean is broad and bulky. I don’t see how Jesse could win against that. And I don’t want to see him try.

I reach up to settle a tentative hand on Jesse’s arm, the tension in his body surging into my fingertips. “It’s okay. I’m fine.” Embarrassed and ready to go home, but fine.

He adjusts his stance slightly, peering down at me over his shoulder. “You sure?”

“Yeah, she’s sure,” Dean answers for me.

I think I hear Jesse’s teeth crack against each other, his jaw is clenched so tight.

To me, Dean offers, “It’s too bad about your face. You hide it well, though.”

I’m not sure if he meant it as an apology or a compliment, or if it was really just a dumbass comment, but the next thing I know, hands are seizing my shoulders and pulling me back, and Jesse’s taking a swing at Dean. His fist slams into the big guy’s jaw, sending him back a step. Dean’s elbow knocks a tray of fries off the bar and onto the floor.

It must hurt, because it takes him a moment to face Jesse again. When he does, rage is burning in his eyes. “George!” he hollers to the bartender, who immediately picks up the phone. Throwing Jesse into a headlock, Dean leads him out, the crowd parting for the two angry men.