38
“What do you want to drink?” Hannah asks, raising her voice to be heard over the noise of the Saturday-night crowd.
“I don’t mind,” I say. “You choose.”
Her eyes light up. Abruptly, I remember this is the friend who never loses a drink dare. “Actually, I’ll have a Cosmopolitan,” I say hastily.
“Got it.” She shimmies over to the bar to order our drinks.
It’s unusually crowded in Kelly’s tonight. Almost every table is taken and the main bar is stacked at least two people deep. A silent game plays on the screen in one corner.
Raucous laughter erupts from a group of men near the hallway to the restrooms. I don’t recognize any of them. Their stares linger a little too long to be comfortable. Thankfully, the table Hannah somehow scored is well away from them.
She comes back a few minutes later with our drinks. “Here you go.”
I glance at the knot of impatient people still waiting to order. “How did you get ours so fast?” I ask, impressed.
She laughs. “Charm and bribery. Works every time. Also, never mess with a redhead.”
“I love your natural red. Are you sticking with it?”
She nods. “My wild hair days are over.”
I’ve known Hannah since high school. She was the kind of girl students admired and teachers disciplined.
She has hazel eyes that miss nothing and fiery auburn hair to match the temper she’s learned to control.
She used to change her hair every quarter, going from an ink-black bob with a slice of electric blue to bright blonde with pink tips.
Like Sofia, she leaves me a little awed.
After graduation, Hannah went from selling hand-poured candles with names like Luna Moth to spending several years working with animal rescue groups across the country and abroad.
She handled midnight callouts during storms and wildfire seasons and volunteered with teams responding to illegal trapping, which put her in some dangerous situations.
To everyone’s relief, she came home to Brown Oaks and stayed.
She started The Owl Rescue Center with a single borrowed shed, two crates, and an old perching stand a farmer donated out of his barn.
Through vision, sheer will, and determination, she grew it into a well-respected and well-funded sanctuary with proper flight tunnels and a part-time vet on contract.
Hannah takes a sip of her drink. “Status report on the beagle menace?”
I smile. “Turbo is learning to heel. And by learning , I mean he’s considering it.”
“Progress of sorts.”
“It is.” I take a swallow of my drink, more for courage than taste. “Joel is helping me train him.”
“Is he now?” She leaves a tactical pause. “Joel, the same man who kissed another woman in front of you on your first date and made you cry?”
I shake my head, amused and exasperated in equal measure. “I can’t believe you started that rumor.”
“Just having a little fun. It certainly livened up this sleepy little town.” She gives me a look. “So, when are you and the sinfully sexy photographer getting married for real and producing cute babies I can smother with my love and wisdom?”
“Not happening. You’ll have to make your own babies.”
“That’s not happening either. Every man I meet either bores me to death or makes me want to drive an ice pick through their skull.” She sighs dramatically. “I’ll just have to be satisfied with my owl babies.”
I hide my smile. She’s so fiercely independent it would take quite the man to entice her to settle down.
Hannah picks up her drink, and I glimpse the small owl tattoo on the inside of her left wrist. “I heard Joel helped your dad upgrade your security. That’s love in Ellis land.”
“My dad almost adopted him on the spot.”
Her eyes widen. “Well, well, speak of the man and look who the universe delivers.”
Shock lances through me and my face does the thing it does when Joel’s name comes up.
Hannah chuckles. “Oh, Kenzie, your transparency delights me.”
My head lifts, and I spot Joel on the other side of the bar. Just the sight of him causes my heart to trip over itself. He looks rugged and handsome in jeans and a shirt that molds to all that muscle.
His eyes catch mine. He looks as surprised to see me as I am to see him. Then a rueful resignation settles over his face as we both acknowledge the magnetic pull that keeps drawing us together. Of course, our paths would cross. That’s been the trajectory of us from the start.
Our gazes stay locked for a heartbeat. Then he tips his drink my way and smiles. It’s a different kind of smile. It feels quieter and more dangerous.
“Who’s Joel’s handsome friend?”
I jump a little. I hadn’t realized Joel was with someone. A tall, good-looking guy with dark blond hair. “I’m not sure.”
Truthfully, I wasn’t too sure Joel had any friends.
Hannah flicks her hand in the air. The owl on her wrist catches the light and looks briefly alive. “He’s hot. I don’t usually go for blond guys, but I might make an exception for the rough and sexy type.”
I smile. “Maybe he’s The One.”
“I doubt it,” she scoffs. Then she shakes her head, bemused. “Aaron, Gideon, Joel, and now this guy. What on earth is in the water that the men in Brown Oaks are so ridiculously good looking?”
The next hour slips by easily as we trade stories and laugh. And even though bars aren’t really my scene, I know Hannah shines in places like this.
While I nurse my drink and listen to everything happening in her life, I find myself constantly aware of Joel.
Every now and then, his eyes find mine. And every time they do, my breath stalls and a tingle settles at the base of my spine.
We’re giving each other space while staying acutely aware of each other. The tension is exquisite.
“I’ll be back,” I tell Hannah after I’ve finished telling her about my latest card design. “I need to use the ladies’ room.”
“Be careful,” she warns me. “Some of these guys can get a little handsy.”
“I will.”
As I make my way to the restroom, a man slouched against the far wall of the bar catches my attention. He’s out of the light and in shadow, but he looks vaguely familiar. I can’t make him out properly, his cap is pulled too low.
“Hey, sweetheart, can I buy you a drink?” asks a short, stocky man with a shaved head, stepping into my space.
“No, thank you,” I say, keeping my voice polite but firm.
A tall, skinny guy with a sleeve of tattoos spits on the floor. “I told you not to ask her, numbskull. I told you I saw her first.”
“I don’t care if you saw her first,” the other man retorts. “I asked her for a drink first.”
“It’s okay, I’m having drinks with my friend,” I try telling them, but they’re not listening, too busy glaring at each other, their faces growing redder by the second.
Someone jostles me from behind. I smell alcohol and an unpleasant metallic smell. The jostling happens again, more forcefully this time. Maybe I should give up on the restroom and make my way back to Hannah. This bar is definitely getting too rowdy for me.
Suddenly, the tall, skinny guy swings back his fist and lands a punch on his friend. Angry shouts erupt around me and suddenly I’m being pushed in all directions. I don’t believe it. I’m caught in the middle of a bar fight.
Trying to steady my rising panic, I look up and my eyes lock with Joel’s.
He’s already pushing away from the bar and moving swiftly toward me.
His gaze doesn’t leave mine as he vaults over a tipped chair and shoulders past a barrel-chested man who doesn’t move quickly enough.
Someone tries to throw a punch at him, but he ducks, shoves the guy aside, and keeps fighting to get to me.
I lose sight of him when I’m shoved from behind and an elbow jabs my ribs. The air rushes out of my lungs and I tip forward. Suddenly, a strong arm goes around my waist, and I’m pulled upright against a hard chest.
Joel threads his fingers though mine and anchors me tightly against him. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
“What about my friend—Hannah?” I ask, my voice shaking and panicked.
“Ryan’s got her,” Joel reassures me. “He’ll take care of her. I need to get you out of here.”
Keeping me tucked securely against him, he muscles a path through the crowd. He steers me into a long hall, past the restrooms and Kelly’s office, then around a corner into a small alcove by the emergency exit.
His eyes scan my face, my body, assessing me for any injuries. “Are you okay?”
I nod and manage a shaky gulp of air. “I’m okay. I’m—”
The rest of my sentence is cut short as Joel pins me to the wall, frames my face with his hands, and crashes his mouth down on mine.
I don’t stop him. I can’t stop him. There’s not a molecule inside of me that is able to resist him right now. This is what I’ve wanted, what I’ve craved , for so long.
Heat explodes between us. He kisses me frantically, desperately, as though whatever he’s kept leashed has snapped free. He’s not gentle and I don’t want him to be. His intensity thrills me.
I thought the storeroom was the best kiss of my life, but this one is better because now I know him. I’ve laughed with him, sat through the world’s worst date with him, and watched him look out for me when I didn’t know I needed it. This kiss tastes like all the moments we’ve earned.
His head lifts and his hand comes up to cradle the back of my head. I feel his intense gaze like a current along my nerves.
“Say my name,” he demands, his voice low and rough.
“Joel,” I breathe.
“I told you, the next time I kiss you, the only name on your lips is mine.” His eyes are dark and bottomless. “Say it again.”
“Joel, Joel, Joel,” I murmur.
“No more pretending,” he says, his voice so gravel-deep it takes out my knees.
“No,” I whisper. “No more pretending.”
There’s no coming back from this. And I see in his face the same realization.
He draws a ragged breath, looking at me as though I’m everything to him. “I knew it would be like this between us. I knew I should stay away, but I can’t...and I hate myself for not being stronger.”
I rise onto my toes and kiss him. I don’t have the right words to soothe whatever he’s wrestling with, so I give him what I do have. I show him how much he matters to me and how much I want him in my life. I want there to be no doubt who I’m choosing.
Him. Joel Adams.
The man who’s stolen my heart. The man I’m praying won’t break it.