Foreplay (The Ivy Chronicles #1)(15)

I moved, my feet covering the short distance.      Peering over his shoulder, I gasped at the sight of Scott’s face. He was      bleeding, mostly from the mouth. You couldn’t even distinguish the whiteness of      his teeth amid the wash of blood. I latched onto the bartender’s arm just as it      was pulled back, ready to deliver another punch.

“No! Stop!”

He looked down at me, his expression feral, nothing      like its usual blankness. Tension lined his jaw. A muscle ticked in his cheek. I      didn’t know how long he stared down at me with glittering eyes. It felt like      forever before he spoke, before I felt his voice, low and deep, pulse through      me. “Are you all right?”

I nodded. “Fine.” I nodded toward Scott. “You can      let him go.”

Scott was blubbering now. I couldn’t decipher his      speech. It was more sobs than words.

Tightly bunched muscles eased beneath my fingers      and I realized I was still clinging to the bartender’s bicep. And yet I didn’t      release him. Not right away. I looked down at that arm as if I had to see for      myself where our flesh connected. Where his tan skin met my pale fingers. My      hand curled over part of his tattoo, and I imagined the inked skin felt warmer      there. Unthinkingly, I brushed at the dark edge of the wing and something inside      me squeezed and twisted. I dropped my hand.

He tore his gaze off me and looked down at Scott      again. He lifted his other hand and Scott flinched like he expected another      punch. Instead he pointed down the narrow hall. “Get out of my bar.”

Scott nodded fiercely, his face a mess. I winced.      It hurt just looking at him. He scrambled to his feet, mumbling, “I’ll just get      my friend.”

Scott was almost out of the hall when the bartender      called after him, indifferent to the customers who glanced curiously in our      direction. “I don’t want to see you in here again.”

Nodding, he scurried off.

Alone with my rescuer, I inhaled into lungs that      suddenly felt impossibly tight, too small for air. “Thank you.”

He faced me. “I saw him follow you into the      hall.”

I cocked my head. “You were watching me?”

“I saw you pass by.”

So yes. He was watching me.

Silence filled the air. I rubbed my hands along my      thighs. “Well. Thanks again. I hope you don’t get in trouble with your boss for      any of this. If you need me to vouch for you—”

“I’ll be all right.”

Nodding, I stepped past him, took three strides and      stopped. Turning, I pushed the wayward fall of hair back from my face and asked,      “What’s your name?”

It just seemed absurd to keep thinking of him as      The Bartender. I didn’t want to go back to my dorm tonight, lie in bed, and      stare into the dark thinking about him—because I knew I would—and not know his      name.

“Reece.” He stared at me, through me, his expression impassive, unsmiling.

“Hi.” I moistened my lips and added, “I’m      Pepper.”

“I know.”

I nodded lamely. The napkin. Of course. With a      shaky smile, I stepped out into the main room.

I was halfway to the pool table when Emerson was      there, her eyes enormous in her round face. “What happened to that guy’s face?      It looked like a truck hit him, and he practically ran out of here.”

I linked arms with her and steered her toward the      exit. “The bartender happened.”

“What?” Her cheeks flushed. “Like he got jealous      and . . . hit him?”

I winced. “More like Scott tried to suck my face      off against my protests and Reece intervened.”

“Reece?” she echoed.

“Yeah. He has a name.”

Shaking her head, she looked at me in awe as we      stepped outside. “I think you’ve gotten more than his attention, Pep.”

I snorted. “He was just doing his job—”

She shot me a look. “He’s a bartender. How is      kicking some guy’s ass for getting fresh in his job description?”

“He’s not about to let a customer get accosted      outside the bathroom.”

She looked skeptical as we weaved our way out into      the parking lot. “You just don’t see it. You don’t know how to see it. Trust me. He’s going to call you.”