Oaths and Omissions (Monsters & Muses #3)(14)

A year ago, maybe I’d interact with the others sitting at the bar with me, but right now all I want to do is temporarily forget the bad shit in my life. If I talk to other people, the subject of my demise is bound to come up.

Normally I refrain because it makes me feel like Preston, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt to let loose a little. It’s been a long time, and I think after everything I deserve to have a little fun.

Three drinks and two shots later, the bartender comes over to check on me, and I feel him hesitate as he looks me over, maybe just realizing who I am now that I’m by myself.

“Your friends leave?” he asks, and even in the dim lighting I can see the striking blue of his eyes.

Lifting a shoulder, I nod. At least, I’m pretty sure I do. “Not exciting enough for them.”

“Now, I doubt that.” He grins, leaning a deeply tanned forearm on the counter. “You look like you know fun, but it’s probably not the kind they’re into.”

“Oh?” The room spins a little, and my mouth feels impossibly dry, but I want to listen to him talk anyway.

“I can spot a clubgoer a mile away, and you have wallflower written all over you.”

“Could I record you saying that? Because the general public has a completely different opinion.”

Smirking, he shakes his head. “I’m Blue.”

He extends his hand, and I take it with a tentative smile, grateful that my night may not be confined to wallowing while my brother and Troy have the time of their lives.

“Lenny,” I offer.

I can’t even remember the last time I interacted with a stranger of my own will, much less one who didn’t immediately want to talk about rumors or Preston or Primrose Realty.

His head tilts to the side. “Let me guess. You’re an artist.”

My tongue feels heavy as I let out a little laugh. “Something like that.”

“So, you’d probably rather be out painting a sidewalk or vandalizing the side of a building right now. Like that Banksy guy.”

“Well, not really.” I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear and take another sip of my drink. “My parents would murder me if I ever defaced public property. Wouldn’t look good for their brand.”

“Ah, yes. Your brand of criminal activity looks a bit different, doesn’t it, love?”

Surprise seizes my throat as the British accent that’s haunted my dreams since the party rumbles in my ear. Liquid catches in my esophagus and I sputter trying to clear an airway.

I knew this was a terrible idea.

“Oh, my.” A hand finds my back, barely touching as it smooths a circular pattern that seems to scorch me through my clothes. “Jumpy little bird, isn’t she?”

The question is clearly directed at Blue, who plasters a tight smile on his face. “Boss. Didn’t know you were in tonight.”

“Clearly. Otherwise, maybe you’d be doing your job instead of flirting with drunk customers.”

My fingers squeeze the mason jar glass until they’re numb, and goose bumps prick the back of my neck like a million little needles.

“I’m… not drunk,” I insist, spinning around on the stool to prove it to him.

Except I misjudge his proximity, and my knees knock into his side as I turn. The impact throws me off-kilter, and my hands lurch out, grabbing his hips to keep from falling.

The room continues spinning. I stick my tongue to the roof of my mouth, concentrating on getting it to stop.

Jonas Wolfe stares, those violet eyes piercing straight through me. God, he smells good. Like tobacco and coffee, smoldering in a leather jacket and ripped jeans right before me.

“Right.” Gripping my shoulders, Jonas forces me upright. “And I’m not ten seconds away from firing my best employee for overserving.”

“I didn’t overserve her,” Blue snaps, folding his arms over his chest. “Apparently she’s a lightweight.”

“She is right here,” I say, trying to jerk out of Jonas’s hold, only to have him dig his fingers into my bare biceps. “It’s inappropriate for you to be touching me.”

“It is,” he agrees, a spark of amusement flashing in his heated gaze.

Or is the heat coming from me? My face feels warm suddenly, and I feel a bead of sweat chase the line of my spine beneath my pink corset.

Swallowing through my dry mouth, I lift my chin. “Maybe you should stop.”

“Maybe I should.”

But he doesn’t.

If anything, his grip tightens, and then he’s hauling me to my feet. I can’t stop staring at the sharp curve of his jaw, hidden beneath a thin layer of stubble—less facial hair than he had at the party the other night.

My fingers buzz in tune with the beat of my heart, and I reach up to see if it’s as rough as it looks.

Coarse strands poke my skin, and his brows rise. A small smile tugs at the corner of my mouth, and I feel liquid when he grasps my wrist.

I giggle at the size of him wrapped around me. “Your hands are huge.”

Jonas scowls, glancing at Blue. “Was her drink unattended at any point?”

“I… I don’t know.” Blue shifts, scratching at his elbow. Someone calls his name down the counter, and he holds up a hand to them. “Maybe? I just came over a few minutes before you showed up.”