Chapter 14 #2
I gave her a crooked smile. “Silver lining, huh? I like that. Try not to miss me too much until tonight.”
She rolled her eyes again, but this time her laugh was genuine, bright as sunlight through storm clouds. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she teased, but I caught the way her gaze lingered a moment longer before she finally shut the door behind her.
I stood there until she pulled out of the lot, watching her taillights disappear down Sycamore Street—not because I didn’t trust her to handle herself, but because no part of me could watch her go without making sure she got there safe.
I should have gone back to the shop. I told myself that three times on the way to the truck, and twice more while driving across town. But instead of turning left toward Cassidy’s Automotive, my hands kept the wheel steady toward the tavern, following the route I’d taken a hundred times before.
The truth was, I didn’t like the idea of her behind that bar at all, with gossip running wild and Eli making threats. And sure, Paige could hold her own—she’d done it for years—but knowing that didn’t loosen the tight knot in my chest.
By the time the tavern’s neon glow came into view, the parking lot had only a scattering of cars, all probably belonging to the usual weeknight regulars.
The purple light washed across her windows, and I could see her behind the bar, head down as she wiped the counter, ponytail falling over her shoulder.
I slipped inside, the familiar creak of the door swallowed by the hum of conversation and low music from the jukebox. A couple of guys at the far end glanced my way, giving me a chin lift in greeting, but went back to their beers. I knew them. They weren’t the gossiping type.
Paige looked up, and for a second her face softened in a way that hit me square in the chest. Not surprised, not annoyed—just like she was glad I was there.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, coming closer. “You’re even earlier than you said you’d be.”
I leaned against the bar, keeping my voice low. “Checking in. You okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said, but her hand lingered on the bar near mine, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off her skin. “You don’t have to babysit me.”
“Maybe I don’t have to,” I said, “but I kind of need to.”
Her eyes held mine for a beat longer than necessary before she reached for a glass and started filling it with ice. “You want a drink?”
“Sure. Coke?”
She slid it over, then drifted toward the other end of the bar to refill someone’s beer. I stayed where I was, watching her move—confident, quick, at ease in her space. And still, every so often, she’d glance back at me as if she wanted to make sure I was still here.
The night wound down faster than I expected. The last of the regulars shuffled out with murmured goodnights, and Paige locked the door behind them after saying goodnight to her crew, telling them she’d see them tomorrow. The tavern went still, quiet except for the jukebox.
“You could have gone home,” she said, stacking glasses. “Get some rest. Relax…”
“Could have,” I agreed, “but I didn’t want to.”
Her hands stilled for a second before she set the last glass down. “Why not? You can see that I’m okay. It was a quiet night; there’s not much left to do in here.”
I stepped closer, slow enough to give her time to stop me. She didn’t. “Because I need to be near you. Is that okay?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“It’s quiet in here. The door is locked. Just us.”
Her breath caught, just barely, and she leaned back against the bar as I closed the distance.
“You’ve been on my mind since that night. The night I kissed you.” I said quietly. “Hell, longer than that. I need you, Paige. I want more.”
She swallowed, her eyes flicking to my mouth before darting away. “Hunter…”
I rested one hand on the bar beside her hip, close enough now that the heat of her body warmed the space between us. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”
She didn’t tell me to stop.
Instead, she reached up, fingers brushing the side of my neck before sliding into my hair, pulling me down until our mouths met.
The kiss started soft—testing, tasting—but it didn’t stay that way. Her other hand gripped the front of my shirt, pulling me flush against her, and I let my arm curve around her waist, anchoring her to me.
When her back arched slightly, pressing her chest against mine, a low sound escaped my throat before I could stop it. She tasted faintly of lemon water and something sweeter, something entirely her.
I deepened the kiss, tilting my head to fit her better, my hand tracing the curve of her spine. She made a soft, involuntary sound that went straight to my chest and lower, and I felt her shiver under my touch.
“Paige,” I murmured against her mouth, “we should—”
“I know,” she whispered, pulling back just enough to look at me. “But I don’t want to stop this time.”
The air between us thickened, charged.
I took her hand and, without breaking eye contact, led her toward the back hall. The jukebox kept playing, but the rest of the world faded, leaving only the soft thud of our steps, the faint hum of the cooler, and the pounding of my heartbeat.