Chasing River (Burying Water #3)(45)

Ivy doesn’t argue, hopping off her stool, tucking her credit card back into her purse, the little plastic holder with the bill in her hand. She slings her heavy black studded purse over her shoulder. “I figured you weren’t coming back, so I asked that guy for the check.”

“I told you I wouldn’t ditch you!”

She shrugs. “I also figured you were lying.”

I roll my eyes. “How much was it? I owe you half.”

“Don’t bother. You can get the bill next time. Right?”

The comment speaks volumes. She had fun tonight. She wants to hang out with me again. I smile. “Definitely. Just maybe less whiskey.” I’m going to blame the whiskey for everything. Turning, I find River’s green eyes glowing with a mixture of curiosity and disappointment, the memory of his mouth on mine and his hands on me still very clear and real and now making me blush. “You’re leaving already?”

How do I explain this? That I’m just not that kind of girl, as much as I wish I could be tonight? And guys like River . . . they won’t waste their time on a girl who’s only here for a week and won’t put out. So, we may as well avoid the awkward conversation altogether.

“It’s my fault. I have a client tomorrow morning and if I don’t get home now, her dragon is going to look more like a lizard,” Ivy jumps in, saving me from having to make up a lie. She sets the receipt down on the counter in front of River. “Tonight was enlightening, bartender . . .” She waves a loose hand his way, dramatically, the only sign that she’s been pounding back whiskey for the past couple hours. “Come by when you want that ink.”

I’m not sure if River buys the story, but his focus shifts to the paid bill, then at Rowen. “What the bloody hell is this?”

His brother throws his hands up in the air. “She demanded the check. So I gave her the check!”

Shaking his head, I hear a mutter of “Just wait a minute . . .” as he punches a series of keys into the credit card machine. A paper churns out and he staples it to the other copy. Stepping out from behind the bar, he hands it back to Ivy. “Consider the whiskey payment for medical services rendered.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” She throws a sly glance my way.

He chuckles and then calls out, “Be back in twenty.”

His brother rolls his eyes, as if he doesn’t believe him, but River looks like he couldn’t care less. His arm finds its way around my lower back as he fishes his keys out of his pocket. And I realize what’s going on.

“We can just take a cab,” I argue. “It’s not far.”

“And let some bastard take two drunk girls in his backseat for a ride that’ll cost them double? Is that a good idea, Rowen?”

“It’s a terrible idea, River. Those taxi drivers mustn’t be trusted.” The excessive frown mocks my protest. I’m no idiot. I know exactly what’s going on here.

“See?” River pinches my side softly. “Relax. You’re safe with me.”

Somehow I know that there’s no point arguing with him.

And if I’m being honest, a part of me doesn’t want to anyway.

“Whose house did you say this was?” River’s eyes roam over the rooms much the same way mine did when I first stepped inside Simon’s place.

“He’s a friend’s brother.” It’s the simplest explanation and, now that the whiskey is going head-to-head with my nerves, the most manageable.

“And where is he right now?”

“Africa, I think. He’s a doctor.” I trail River through the living room and into the kitchen, rambling, “It’s nice, being in a home for a while, after jumping from hotel to hotel across Canada. Have you ever been?”

“I haven’t. I hear that’s a big country.” He pushes a few buttons on the espresso coffeemaker before wandering past it to open the fridge. He pulls out a bag of green seedless grapes. “Healthy.”

I smile. “I try. Especially since I’m traveling.”

His gaze rakes over my body before he smiles and nods to himself.

“Are you hungry?”

He chuckles. “No.” Throwing the grapes back in, he pushes the door shut. “Show me the rest of the place.”

I take a deep breath, leading him upstairs, convincing myself that maybe this is completely innocent, that he’s just curious about where I’m staying. That he appreciates good design.

Stupid Amber.

I never even invited him in. He just climbed out of the car, then trailed me past the gate and up the walkway. I figured he was walking me to the door. When his arm snaked around my waist and he stood there, waiting for me to unlock the door, I knew that wasn’t the case at all.

His impressed whistle echoes off the tiles in the bathroom of my en suite, and I silently thank God that I had the good sense to pick my panties up off the floor in there earlier. “It’s nice, Amber. I’ll give you that.” When he reenters the master bedroom and sees me standing in the window, he stops dead. “Why are you so nervous around me?”

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “But right now you’re in my bedroom. That may have something to do with it.”

He walks toward me, his steps casual and slow, his hair slightly tousled, his eyes heated. “I am.” His thumb grazes my bottom lip. “It’s a little nicer than the pub office, wouldn’t you agree?”