Cheater

6. Chloe

“You’re on break,” Derek Steele says to the bartender without looking at him as he removes his hand from my back and reaches out to take my hand as if I need help climbing up onto the barstool.

I don’t take the extended hand; instead I climb up without assistance, eyes bouncing between the club owner and the confused-looking bartender, who asks, “I’m… on break, Mr. Steele?”

“Take your break in my office,” Derek says without looking at the frowning bartender whose expression changes to one of alarm. “Right now would be ideal,” he adds.

The bartender sidesteps past him and slips out of the opening at the side of the bar as Derek gestures with his left hand. I see a suited guy by the front door look our way and then he’s on the move, approaching us.

“Escort Alex to my office, Mel, and ask Tamara to come look after the bar, please,” Derek says to the man approaching who’s obviously another security guy.

Mel nods and quickly moves past us, disappearing down a hallway that presumably leads to the office.

My eyes bounce back to Derek as he takes his jacket off, lays it across the bar beside me, fiddles with his sleeves, then rolls them halfway up his well-veined forearms. His eyes are on me the entire time, though mine have been rather… bouncy. His shirt showcases his muscles quite well. I tear my eyes away from his defined shoulders and the ink that crawls up one of his arms. Heat creeps from my neck upwards as I try to behave as if I’m not checking him out.

“What can I get you, Miss…” He lets that hang.

“Chloe.”

“Miss Chloe what?” he inquires and gestures to a passing waiter. “Can you take Tamara’s section while she runs the bar the rest of the night? Alex has been relieved.”

“Sure, boss,” the young guy says. “I’ll bus that table and be right back.”

Derek jerks his chin at me.

“Chloe Turner,” I reply. “And again, that guy in the red shirt wasn’t bothering me. He asked me to dance, and your security got there immediately, before he even had a chance to misbehave.”

“Did you have plans to dance with him?” Derek asks. “Did my head of security ruin your night by giving him the boot?”

His dark eyes feel like they burn into me. And it makes me feel strange. Exposed. That was probably meant to be a lighthearted comment, but the way he delivered it – with what felt like accusation – I’m a little flummoxed.

“No,” I advise. “I invited him to dance with the group of us, making it clear I’m here to spend the evening with my friends dancing. And then I told him I’m engaged.”

“Hm,” he responds, grabbing an empty glass from the mirrored shelf behind himself. “What to drink, Chloe Turner?”

He pulls his phone out and is doing something on it as I answer.

“Rum and Coke with lime in a tall glass, thanks.” I reach into the slit pocket along the side seam of my dress, which has enough room to keep my phone, some cash, and my keys at my mid-torso, which is another reason why I bought it. I pull out my wad of twenties, fives, and tens and pass him a ten.

“On the house. For the trouble,” Derek lifts a hand.

“There was no trouble,” I advise with a smile. “Your security guard got it wrong, so maybe you should be inviting the guy in the red shirt back in and giving him the complimentary drink.”

Derek looks surprised for a beat and then leans forward. “You want him back in here?”

His jaw muscles flex and it’s sexy while also being unnerving. He looks almost… angry?

Caught off guard, I reply, “No, not that. I don’t know him and had no plans to get to know him. But maybe he also didn’t deserve to be turfed out of the club. Maybe your security guy mixed him up with somebody else.”

“Shep doesn’t make mistakes like that,” Derek denies.

“Well…” I say, and then I don’t know what to add to that, so I let it hang. “I guess I’ll accept the free drink then.”

“His friends at the first table to the left of the door are still sitting there, so they watched him get escorted out of my establishment and didn’t go with him. Aren’t rushing to finish their drinks, even. That probably says something about the guy.” His eyes bounce that way as he takes down a bottle of rum from the top shelf. “Don’t you think?”

I shrug. “I… guess?”

Pretty observant of him, actually.

“If you were kicked out of a club because you broke their rules and your friends were with you, what would they do? Come with you or let you find some other fun on a Friday night?”

“My friends? If I broke a rule, they’d still come with me.”

“Even if you were in the wrong?”

“Even then. But if they thought I was unfairly kicked out of an establishment, not only would they not hang back to spend money lining the pockets of that establishment’s owner, they’d probably plot to set the place on fire in my defense.”

His brows shoot up.

Oh shit. That’s probably not a good thing to say.

I giggle, shaking my head. “I mean… not that they’d set your place on fire here or anything. We’d just plot about it.”

“Best not kick you out so I don’t have to find out,” he says, eyes lighting with humor as he pours rum from the top shelf and then uses the soda gun to fill my drink with Coke. He drops in a lime wedge, then slips a straw and stir stick in before he extends his hand, holding out the drink.

“Thank you,” I say and take it from his hand. Our fingers brush and something exciting ignites in my belly. Low in my belly. Derek Steele’s eyes are on my mouth again.

I slip the ten back into the little pocket and pull the zip up. “Thank you, Mr. Steele.”

A smile slowly spreads across his face and our eyes stay connected for longer than they probably should.

A woman slips behind the bar. “Excuse me, Mr. Steele. I’ll handle everything.”

“Well, I’d better re-join my friends,” I say, looking over my shoulder.

My friends are all at a table watching us. Coraline looks concerned. Alannah looks positively delighted. Maddie and Jeffy are whispering to one another while watching.

“You forgot the card,” Derek says.

“The card?” I ask, eyes bouncing back.

I quickly look at the bar top where his business card sits. I must have set it down when I sat on the stool.

“Oh. Not sure I need it,” I say, intentionally not looking at his face.

“Chloe,” he says simply.

I feel like I have no choice but to look up and I’m afraid my eyes might be saying more than I intend for them to say.

He leans forward. “If you wanna give me a card, I’m pretty sure I need it.”

Heat floods my face. “I don’t have any business cards with me, and I’m engaged to be married, so even if I did have cards, I’m afraid they’d be given out for business reasons only.”

“That’s a shame,” Derek says, though heat and humor are both still lit in his eyes. “Shame for me. Not for the fiancé. Lucky man to have your loyalty.”

My expression drops as a hundred thoughts about Adam flit through my brain.

“Hope that man shows you every day that he feels how lucky he is to have it,” Derek tacks on.

Face burning, I manage, “Thanks for the drink. Have a good night.”

I hurry back to my friends, not taking Derek Steele’s business card, also not looking back, because it feels like his eyes are still on me.