Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
ALEX
“ S ulking is a bad look,” I tell Julian.
“I’m not sulking,” he says… while sulking.
“I didn’t know they were both going to leave,” I tell him. “I didn’t want to give her the wrong impression.”
“They were ready for a good time, and you basically told them to go to hell. And what for? So we could sit at the corner of the bar like two depressing old men and have no fun at all. Not everything has to be so serious all the time, Alex.”
“Look, if Tinker and Belle want to have a good time, they can find somebody else. I’m not interested in anything casual.”
“Or anything serious,” Julian points out. “What are you interested in, bro? Working eighteen-hour days so you don’t have to think about the rest of your life?” After a pause, he says, “I’m sorry. That was harsh. You’re right. I’m being an ass.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not. This isn’t something to fight about. Call me an ass so I can feel better about it.”
“You’re an ass. Happy now?”
“Very.” He sips his beer. “Anyway, if I am sulking—and I’m not agreeing—maybe you could help me out. Let me put your number in the bowl.”
I look over to the line of people at the stage. Two lines, men and women. The woman with the wild hair and the magnetic smile sits at a table. Does that mean she’s not putting her number in?
“Come on,” Julian says. “It’ll be fun. Some harmless texting.”
Maybe he’s right. He apologized for his dig about me making work my life, but he has a point. Perhaps I need to let go from time to time. I can’t live with a vice grip on life just because some shitty things happened to me once upon a time.
“Fine, go on. Do it. You madman.”
“Yippee!” he practically squeals.
“Christ, Julian. You didn’t just say ‘yippee.’”
“Young at heart, old buddy,” he says, chuckling as he slides from the barstool.
I sip my drink—I’m still on my first—and try not to stare at the woman. I can’t lie.
I’m curious. I think that’s the right word. And there’s this rumbling deep down, my loins stirring, excitement tickling at the edges of my usually cold consciousness.
When she laughs, it has an edge to it, an attitude.
Julian returns. “I’m getting another drink while I wait for the love of my life to text me.”
“If she doesn’t, I’m sure you’ll find one of your own.”
“Amen to that.” He laughs. “It’ll be time to collect the numbers soon… I wonder how sneaky they’re going to be with the envelopes. Think I’ll be able to spy my Juliet?”
“I’ve got everything crossed for you,” I say dryly.
I watch as a tall, fit man walks from behind the bar and approaches my stranger’s table. Julian busies himself chatting up one of the barmaids that just passed by. Is he her boyfriend? I’ve got no right to be jealous, but goddamn it, sue me. I don’t want her to have a boyfriend.
He says something to her, then she stands, walking around the bar with him. They linger at the very end. I’m no lip reader and too far away to hear what they’re saying.
Their body language is tense. The man takes a red envelope from his pocket and offers it to the woman. She shakes her head, her gorgeous waves bouncing around her shoulders. He shoves the envelope at her. She takes a step back.
Then he shoves the envelope at her again. I’m on my feet before I realize it.
“Where are you going?” Julian says as he looks my way.
I ignore him, my heart pounding as I rush past him. Who does this guy think he is? Not her boyfriend, clearly, if she won’t accept a red envelope on Valentine’s Day.
“You’re not getting the hint, buddy,” I growl as I step behind the bar.
My tone even shocks me. Protective instincts swell in me, especially when the woman turns with gratitude on her face, but then her expression becomes guarded.
“No customers behind the bar.” The man is smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“I’m not just going to stand here as you lay your fucking hands on her.”
“I wasn’t…”
“I watched you shove that letter at her. She’s clearly got no interest. So. Back. The. Fuck. Off.” My hands clench into fists as if I’m twenty years old and not a Chief of Surgery, a man with a career, a nephew, and a reputation to protect. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
“Are you serious, old man?” he snaps. “You’re trying to play the tough guy routine with me?”
“Damien, be quiet,” the woman says. “He’s telling the truth. I’ve tried to be nice, but you’re making it impossible. You were getting pushy.”
“I was getting passionate .”
“I’m not interested in your passion,” she says through clenched teeth.
“Can’t a man do a nice thing anymore?”
“You heard her,” I say. “Leave her alone.”
“What’s it to you?”
She’s beautiful and interesting. And she’s the only woman I’ve looked twice at in a very long time. Not that I’m going to tell him any of this.
“Huh?” He gets in my face, prodding me in the chest. The little shit. “You obviously don’t know who I am, tough guy. I’ve had three cage fights. I’ve got… friends. You understand what that means in Miami? Well?”
He prods my chest again. My hand moves on reflex, gripping his hand and squeezing tightly. He makes an annoying yelping noise. “I don’t care about your so-called connections. Just leave her alone.”
He grabs my shirt with his other hand. “I will choke you, old ma?—”
“What’s going on here?”
The owner—the woman who announced the texting event—strides around the bar. “Damien? Tori?”
“Damien tried to give me a Valentine’s card,” Tori jumps in. Learning her name feels far better than such a simple thing should. “He got aggressive when I refused it. This guy stepped in, and Damien threatened him.”
“Don’t lie about me ,” Damien whines.
“Oh, Damien,” the owner says. “You need to leave. I won’t have this in my establishment. I’ve seen you looking at Tori before, and I’ve seen, far too clearly, that she is not interested. This has gone on for long enough.”
“But—”
“No. We’re done here.”
He slowly lets go of my shirt. I let go of his hand, though the urge to snap his fingers is there. The little prick. Making Tori feel threatened. He’s got no right.
“We’re far from done,” he grunts, walking quickly past me.
“Tori, I’m so sorry,” the owner says.
“It’s fine,” Tori replies. “Do you need me to work now that he’s gone?”
“No, we’ll manage. Just try to put that behind you.”
Tori shrugs. There’s an animal in me, hunger sparking when I notice her ample bust under her sparkling top, the way her breasts shift with the movement of her shrug. I need to relax, but it isn’t easy around her.
The owner slides behind the bar to serve customers. Tori raises her eyebrows at me. “Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I couldn’t just sit there and watch him treat you like that. The prick had no right.”
“I could’ve handled him,” she says with a note of pride that has my lips tugging into a smile.
Whoa. That’s something new. Smiling with her feels easy. “I’m sure you could have. But you shouldn’t have to.”
“He’s been making hints for weeks, but this is the first time he’s actually gone full psycho mode. I was going to slap him before you rode in on your white horse.”
She’s trying to sass me like it’s no big deal, but I could tell she was secretly grateful when I first stepped in, but it’s almost like she won’t let herself feel it. Like she’s got her guard up. Am I reading too much into her?
“I saved you from an assault charge, then, which means you should be doubly thankful.”
She tips her head back and lets out a laugh. It’s gorgeous. Her lips are lush and kissable. My body aches being so close to her. It’s like she’s casting some sort of Valentine’s spell on me, which is probably the craziest thought I’ve ever had.
“I am thankful, ” she murmurs, cutting off the laughter. “So… can I get by?” She gestures at me to move aside to let her pass.
I almost tell her no.
I almost tell her, You’re staying with me, you beautiful, curvy, sexy woman. The thought terrifies me: it comes out of nowhere and hits like a punch in the teeth.
Stepping aside, I say, “Try not to get into any more trouble.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t need saving again.”
I can’t stop myself from watching her as she walks away. Wide hips in tight jeans, the globes of her round ass making my mouth water.
“What was that about?” Julian asks when I return.
“Some douchebag was giving Tori trouble. He got rightfully fired.”
“Do you know her?”
“No. Why’d you ask that?”
“The way you said her name.”
I shake my head. “Nah, she’s a stranger.”
“Hey, Alex. Take a breath.”
It’s only when he says this that I realize I’m practically panting, my chest heaving, my body tense.
“You’re not the type that gets into fights,” Julian says sympathetically.
It has nothing to do with almost getting into a fight. I would’ve buckled his legs and shattered his jaw for putting his hands on her, but I don’t tell Julian that. This comes from something else.
I wanted to follow Tori to her table, laugh with her some more, and spend time with her—almost like I haven’t seen where something like this will end.
Some scars cut deep and leave a mark. It’s the crap with my brother, with the woman he stole from me, and with the kid they left behind.
I’ve got too much baggage. Maybe it’s for the best I’ll never see Tori again, even if that thought hurts far more than it has any goddamn right to.