3. Sadie
How didI get myself into this mess?
I gulp as a fine sheen of sweat breaks out along my spine. There’s a possessive edge to my savior’s demeanor—or rather—his entire expression, that should scare me.
It doesn’t.
Instead, it ignites something dormant within me, embers of curiosity fueled by desire I haven’t felt in...
Well, forever.
“You,” he says, his tone firm yet somehow still inviting as he dips his face closer to mine, my lips parting of their own volition, “aren’t going anywhere.”
Get the heck out of here!
He may be more handsome than any model to ever grace the cover of GQ magazine, but if he thinks he can boss me around mere minutes after coming to my defense, he’s more wrong than a two-dollar watch.
If I want to leave, I will, just as soon as I’m good and ready. The problem is, with him looking at me the way he is, I’m no longer sure I want to.
Talk about a complete one-eighty.
“You’ve made quite the impression.” My knees nearly quake when his eyes momentarily drop to my suddenly dry mouth, and he clenches his strong jaw in a move that shouldn’t be so erotic. Oh, but it is. “Tell me your name.”
I could kick myself for how quickly I fling caution and safety to the wind by giving him precisely what he’s asking for. “S-Sadie.” I swallow, my throat tight as if a constrictor fired up on squeezing the life out of me is wrapped around it. “My name is Sadie Winslow.”
Something that looks an awful lot like approval gleams in his eyes. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sadie Winslow.” His tongue rolls over his bottom lip, and my belly clenches. “I’m Rhys Kensington.”
Rhys? Okay, so I love his name.
And acquaintance? How fancy.
Under normal circumstances, I would probably have offered him my hand in greeting, as my Southern-born manners dictate. But the thing is, he’s standing far too close. With our positions, if I extend my arm, my fingers will brush against his expensive-looking belt.
Maybe even his…
I bite the inside of my cheek before giving myself a much-needed mental shake as my sanity further erodes. I need to get out of here before I lose it completely.
“It’s… Well, I think it’s time I l-leave.” For the second time in as many minutes, my voice is shakier and much less convincing than I’d like it to be. Get it together. Squaring my shoulders, I clear my throat. “It was nice meeting you.” An awkward laugh escapes me. “Actually, that’s a lie. This whole thing has been a nightmare.”
His eyes narrow, and I mentally pivot.
“Not the meeting you part, I mean,” I quickly add, trying to erase any rudeness I may have accidentally tossed his way. “That hasn’t been a nightmare. At all. Clearly, I don’t know you or anything, but as far as I can tell, you’re pretty perfect and…”
Oh. My. God! What did I just say?
I seriously need to hush.
Swallowing once more, I fight to push down the embarrassment that’s trying its best to suffocate me. If Weston or Eli were here, they’d be rolling on the floor laughing.
Quite literally.
“Honestly?” With a shaky hand, I rake my fingers through my hair, pushing it back from my face. “I’m just ready to put tonight in the rearview.”
His gaze doesn’t waver.
It pierces me with an intensity I fear can see straight through me, reaching parts where my deepest insecurities lie. I shift my weight between my feet, fidgeting in place. But I freeze once more when he speaks, the lone word startling me.
“Stay.”
It’s not a request. It’s a softly spoken demand that excites me way more than it should as he nods behind me to the bar.
“Have a drink with me.”
My mind races, fully torn between the desire to flee and the urge to stay. To explore the strange, magnetic pull toward this man who stepped in to defend me, even when no one else did.
I open my mouth to respond, but don’t get the chance. Not before he speaks again, clearly determined to sweep me right off my feet.
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
“You’re safe with me, Sadie Winslow.”
I can’t stop the wobble of my chin any more than I can stop the beat of my swelling heart. For a moment, just a single one, I allow myself to revel in my knight in shining armor’s promised safety, in the presence of this stranger who, in such a short time, has stirred emotions my ex-fiancé never once evoked.
But all too quickly, reality comes crashing back.
Outside of my cousins and Papaw, experience has taught me men are all the same. Treacherous. It’s only been three months since betrayal left my heart in tatters, and Maxwell stomped out every shred of trust I had with those fancy, designer cowboy boots he always loved so much.
Just as his father did to his mother.
And his grandfather to Cornelia.
I’m being reckless and not nearly cautious enough. Busy trying to pull myself together and fix what’s been broken, I shouldn’t even be entertaining the thought of spending time with another man. Let alone one like Rhys, who exudes danger as much as he does allure.
Panic immediately sets in.
Like a rolling, ice-covered wave, it works to extinguish the warmth his words had kindled. I can’t do this. Not now, and definitely not with him. Anxiety peaking, I hold my breath and shuffle sideways, squeezing past him, my body brushing against his in a way that sets my nerves alight.
“This...” My voice is a whisper, barely audible. “I can’t.”
His expression morphs slightly, shifting with a flicker of something, confusion maybe, crossing his stern features. Questions dance in his eyes, searching for answers I won’t give.
“I’m sorry.” Mustering every ounce of resolve I have, I inhale quickly and take a retreating step. “I wish I could stay, but…” I shake my head, the words I want to say becoming lodged in my throat. “Nevermind, I just need to go.”
Without waiting for his response, I make a break for it, racing out of the lounge and through the hotel’s lobby before exiting through the main entrance, my heart pounding in my ears and my skin tingling from our brief contact.
As the busy London streets greet me, it repeatedly clicks in my head that I’m evading a lot more than just a simple drink with Rhys. Like a coward, I’m running from my demons and what could’ve been. A foreboding takes root in my belly, causing it to sink.
Because deep down, I know.
I know I just screwed up by fleeing, something I’ve done far too much of lately. To my dismay, I let my fear—as all-consuming as it sometimes is—win. And even though part of me already realizes it was a mistake, I don’t realize how big of one yet.
Something tells me I’ll soon find out.