Chapter 51
Chapter fifty-one
Izzy
After my encounter with Jett earlier, the rest of the afternoon was relatively quiet. Everyone else arrived not long after I did, and now we're all out at a bar in town that I can't remember the name of—all of us, minus one.
I don't care.
Okay, so maybe I do care a little. I wish I didn't, though, so technically that counts as not caring.
But, just then, the door swings open—Jett walks in as if my completely unconcerned thoughts of him summoned his presence. Fuck you, brain.
He's wearing typical Jett attire: a brown and green buttoned-up flannel jacket with an attached grey hood, dark-washed jeans, his signature cowboy boots, and a cowboy hat.
I'm unsure if it's his devilish good looks or simply how he holds himself, but his presence commands attention when he steps into a room.
Looking as good as he does right now, unfortunately, he has mine and the attention of every other woman in this crowded bar.
He’s walking with a fidgety Mark, but he notices me and makes his way over to us. Our eyes meet briefly before I force myself to look away.
Avoid. Avoid. Avoid.
I repeat the chant to myself, but it's fucking useless. It's like he's the drug, and I'm the addict; I can't resist the pull he has on me. I fucking hate it. I hate anyone having that kind of control over me.
He tells everyone hello, then walks over to me.
"Are we going to talk at all while you're here?" he says in a whisper directly into my ear, his deep gravel voice sending shivers throughout my body straight down to my clenching core.
Ugh. My body is just as much of a trader as my mind.
"Technically, we already talked. Do I want to talk more? Absolutely not," I say while sporting a fake smile and a fake cheery tone. He barely leans in, lips parted to speak, and I take a step back, putting some much-needed distance between us.
He looks me over for a second, then nods and walks away.
Via and Ander are damn near cuddled up at a table, talking intimately amongst themselves. Silas is Mac-daddying it up on multiple ladies at once. Seriously, this guy has no shame. Kas just asked Dessa to dance, to which she reluctantly agreed. So, that leaves me. Here. Alone. At the bar. By myself.
Yay me.
Jett is a few people down the bar from where I'm standing. Still in earshot, I hear a beautiful brunette start speaking to him.
"Hey, handsome," she says, drawing out each word like a fucking idiot as she boldly grabs the collar of his jacket and runs her fingers along it seductively.
If it were any other guy, I'd applaud the woman for seeing something she likes and chasing after it. Instead, I'm hit with a wave of jealousy—a feeling I have no business feeling. He tried with me multiple times, and each time, I ran from him.
He doesn't respond right away. He just lets her touch him while he looks her over. Honestly, it's kind of pathetic to watch. Yet, why do I wish it were me touching him?
You're totally staring. Stop staring, you fucking creep.
Just when I think he won't respond at all, I hear his delicious voice call out to the stunning woman in front of him. The woman whose curves and tits are way better than mine.
"Hey... Beauty."
Beauty.
That fucking bastard. He knows damn well that I'm listening. He wants to play dirty, let's fucking play, big boy.
I double-tap on the bar, getting the bartender's attention.
"What will it be, pretty lady?" the short, stocky older man asks as he approaches me.
"Three shots of whiskey," I say confidently.
I can see Jett's ears perk up, and he must think I'm getting him and his new little friend some shots, too. Laughable. Literally, I let out a laugh, causing a few looks to be thrown my way from people nearby. To be fair, I’m completely alone, laughing by myself.
Ah, fuck it.
The bartender brings me the shots, and I pay up. Grabbing one shot at a time, I throw each of those bitches back, desperately needing the liquid courage for what I'm about to do.
Mav crosses my mind briefly, and guilt pings at me momentarily. Just then, I see Jett lean in and whisper something in the hot chick's ear.
Fuck this. It's time to play. It's been a while since I've cut loose.
Grabbing my clutch, I hop off the barstool and adjust my dress. It's light pink and somewhat flowy, but it hugs my body in all the right places. The biggest bonus is that it makes my itty-bitty titties look fabulous.
Brushing past Jett, I intentionally bump into his shoulder. Hard. Looking over my shoulder after I pass him, I intend to apologize, but instead, I throw him a wink along with a middle finger salute that says, "Game on motherfucker."
My original plan to avoid him has blown right out the damn window, and at this moment, with the liquor kicking in, I couldn't give any less of a fuck.
Let's do this.
Making my way to the dance floor, I quickly spot Dessa and Kasten. Damn, I would say, 'Go, Des,' but cheering her on for grinding on my brother just feels wrong. Not wanting anything to do with whatever is going on over there, I turn away.
Finding an empty spot, I put my plan into action.