Fueled(book two)(177)

“Let me get it,” the man beside me says.

I look over at him again. “That’s really not necessary.”

“Please, I insist,” he tells the bartender, sliding his card across the counter to start a tab, which makes me a bit uncomfortable seeing as I don’t plan on being here long enough to have a tab.

I stare at him again. My eyes take in his clean-cut appearance and attire but are drawn back to his eyes. All I see is kindness. “Thanks.” I shrug.

“Parker,” he says, holding his hand out.

“Rylee,” I reply, shaking his hand.

“You here for work or pleasure?”

I laugh softly. “Work. You?”

“A little of both actually. Looking forward to the race tomorrow.”

“Hmpf,” is all I manage as I focus back on shredding my napkin. I realize I’m being rude, but I’m really not in the mood to make polite conversation with someone that possibly wants more than just a drink and quick chat at the bar. “I’m sorry,” I apologize, “I’m not much company right now.”

“It’s okay,” he says wistfully. “Whoever he is…he’s a lucky man.”

I look over at him. “That obvious, huh?”

“Been there, done that before.” He chuckles as he takes a long sip of his beer. “All I’ll say is the man must be an idiot if he’s willing to let you walk away without a fight.”

“Thanks,” I resign, a flash of a smile lighting up my face for the first time since I’ve met him.

“Wow! There’s a smile,” he teases, “and a beautiful one at that!”

My cheeks flush as I avert my eyes and take a drink of liquid courage. We talk idly about nothing in particular for a while as the lounge slowly fills up and the night progresses. At one point Parker scoots his stool closer to mine as we’re having trouble hearing each other over the increased noise. He’s easy to talk to, and I know that if we were in another place and another time, I’d enjoy his casual attempts at flirting with me, but my heart’s just not in it so his harmless attempts remain unreciprocated.

I’ve had a couple of drinks, and a slow hum is buzzing through my system—not enough to stifle the hurt from the day but just enough to allow me to forget for sporadic moments of time. My attention is drawn to loud laughter outside the open entrance to the lounge, and when I look up, I stifle a gasp as my eyes meet Colton’s. We stare for a beat, and then I see his eyes narrow in on Parker and the angle of his body leaning in to hear me over the noise.

I hear Beckett and Sammy shouting in the background over the noise, and I pull myself away from Parker when I hear Colton growl. I search through the shifting crowd and see Beckett in front of Colton, hands pressed against his chest as Sammy stands behind him, restraining him by the shoulders. Colton is not looking at them at all. His eyes are boring holes into mine as he works his jaw back and forth on gritted teeth, muscles straining in his neck.

I look back at Parker, who has heard the distraction in the hallway but can’t see anything with his line of sight. He looks to me and shakes his head. “Let me guess,” he says with a resigned laugh. “He’s come back to fight for you?”

“Something like that,” I murmur.

I hear more shouting as I look back toward the door and the rest of the patrons have taken note of the chaos ensuing. The noise level has hushed some as all of the onlookers stare and I hear Beckett shout, “No! You’ve got other priorities, Wood!” before I see Colton break free from his grip and stalk through the crowd that parts for him without hesitation.