Chapter 25
Riley
"And what will you have tonight?"
I roll my lips between my teeth, wondering exactly what I want to order. I came to The Hairy Frog with the intention of having a beer or some fruity drink, but the reminder of that HAVE FUN text that Mac sent, there's a whisper in the back of my head urging me to get blackout drunk.
I let myself believe at first, when he asked about my plans, that maybe he was a little jealous. My heart fluttered at the idea that he cared what I was doing, but then he ruined that by being an asshole.
"A Long Island iced tea," I say, holding my chin a little higher as if the hint of defiance matters to anyone but me.
The waitress dips her head before turning her attention to the other women at the table. No one spares me a glance of worry before placing their own orders. I know that if the drink is too strong or if I order a second one, someone here will make sure I get home safely. Hell, I wouldn't put it past Walker, the owner of the bar, to take me home himself if no one else was around, but I ordered with confidence because I trust these women.
I do my best not to seem annoyed, but more than once, Sage looks down at my hand when my fingers start tapping on the tabletop. She doesn't call me out for it, but I can tell by the flat line of her lips that she has a million questions for me, although she'd never ask them in front of the others.
My eyes dart toward the front door more than half a dozen times when it swings open, a sigh of relief on my lips each time I realize that it isn't Mac, but there's also a hint of disappointment when someone else walks in.
My head is a mess, and he's the only one to blame for it.
Maybe I should be glad for the distraction, grateful that my thoughts drifted to him instead of the status quo of constantly worrying about my business and if I'm going to be able to make ends meet this month.
I thank the waitress when she drops our drinks off at the table, not wasting a moment before pulling the strong liquid through the straw. Almost instantly, the liquor in my drink begins to warm my stomach, but I know it's more than the drink affecting me when the door to the bar opens, and Mac, along with most of his work crew, walks inside.
I narrow my eyes at him. The man is smoking hot on his worst day, but he was wearing work clothes that night I left with him.
Tonight, he looks like he's on a mission in tight jeans and a button-down shirt. His hair is still damp from a shower, and his beard is trim and utter perfection, and the tips of my fingers itch with the need to run them along his jawline, an ache forming deep inside of me at memories of how it feels abrading my inner thighs.
I hate him for it, and that hatred grows even more when he walks toward the bar without even bothering to look in this direction.
Thankfully, my position at the table put my back to him. I don't know what I'd do if I had to watch him flirt with other women. I take a long pull from my drink, knowing that I'll cry sitting right here with all of these witnesses if I have to watch him walk out of here with someone else.
Would he have the nerve to take her to my house?
A growl of anger at getting pre-mad at him for something he hasn't even done yet rumbles out of my throat, drawing Sage's attention. Facing me, she looks up and over my shoulder, before her eyes meet mine once again.
She gives me a soft smile, and I hate the sadness in her eyes. It feels like pity as if something is happening to me right now that no one has any control over, including myself. I've never wanted anything like that from anyone in my life.
"It's fine," I mutter, sitting up straighter in my barstool. "I'm going to have him move out of my house."
Her eyes dart behind me once again.
"That's probably going to make this really awkward then," my friend says just as I feel warmth at my back.
I know it's Mac before he even speaks. He's wearing the same cologne he wore that night I climbed into his truck. I breathed it in so deeply that night, all I have to do is think about the rugged scent for me to recall it from memory.
My body jolts in surprise because I fully expected him to stay on the other side of the bar. Never in my mind did my evening include him approaching our table, much less wrapping his arm around my middle and settling his hand on my lower belly like he'd done several times before .
"Hey, baby," he whispers against my neck, shocking me further.
I spin around to glare at him, a hundred questions on my lips, but I'm struck wordless and stupid the second my eyes meet his.
"What—"
Before I can question him, he leans down, his intention very clear and very, very public.
His lips meet mine, and although I can tell he's struck everyone around us silent, I'm incapable of resisting him. My lips move against his, the kiss probably a little too intimate for the public. My fingers cling to his shirt, the warmth of his skin just under the fabric like a beacon I can't help but gravitate to.
"You taste so good, baby," he whispers.
I know it's not loud enough for anyone else to hear, but that doesn't stop my cheeks from flaming with heat.
His teeth run over his bottom lip, and I get a little lost in watching his mouth.
The bliss doesn't last very long because I feel like a manipulated fool when his lips curl up into a smile right before he lifts his beer bottle to his mouth.
My eyes narrow in his direction, and it only makes his smile grow wider.
"Go ahead," he says. "You know I like it when you get mean."
I have no clue how to respond to that, and once again, my brain glitches when he reaches out and runs his thumb over my lower lip. The intimacy of the action and the fact that he's doing it in front of witnesses makes me a little crazy, so I do the only thing I can do. I turn back around and stare at Sage, who is grinning in our direction like a lunatic. Her smile is real, but I can also see that she has just as many questions in her eyes as I have swirling around inside of me.
Mac repositions himself behind me, the warmth of his palm possessively around my middle.
The Tate twins, both Ronnie and Donnie, are standing a few feet away, and I don't know exactly what part of the conversation I missed while I was lost in the kiss with Mac, but I can guess exactly where it was going when Ronnie smiles at my friend.
"What do you say?" the more lighthearted of the twins asks.
"I think you're barking up the wrong tree," Sage says without even looking in the man's direction.
"Just imagine," Ronnie continues. "Two men eager to please you in every way possible. "
"One to cook and one to do the dishes after," I add, teasing my friend. "Sounds like a great deal to me.
"Watch it," Mac growls at his friend when Ronnie turns his attention in my direction.
His fingers curl, pulling me tighter to his front, and much the same way it did yesterday in his kitchen, I can tell the effect our proximity has on his body. More heat fills my cheeks, but at the same time, I sort of love that the man is turned on right now. My body mimics the same reaction, making me squirm in my seat.
Ronnie dips his head in understanding before turning his attention back to Sage, but he doesn't get a word out before she holds up her hand, rejecting whatever it is he is about to say.
Without missing a beat, the man turns toward Eastyn, the young woman who recently started working at the police station as their office manager. She grins at him, but I can tell by the look in her eyes, that although she may entertain his company here, she has no interest in what he and his brother have to offer. It doesn't stop Ronnie from listing all the positive things about dating two men at one time.
I tune him out, focusing on the warmth at my back and the way Mac is all but wrapped around me.
The waitress comes back, asking if we want another round, and I must stare at my drink long enough that Mac bends down and whispers in my ear.
"I rode with the guys, and I'm only having this one beer. I'll make sure you get home safely if you want another drink."
I turn my head slightly to look up at him.
The waitress is just as fast with the second drink as she was with the first. Or maybe I just get lost in his eyes, both of us seeming just fine with staring wordlessly at each other.
Life happens all around us, but for the first time in a very long time, I have something to be distracted with rather than feeling like a third wheel or an outsider, and just as he promised when the night is over, he walks me to the car with his palm on my back and opens up the passenger side door of my car for me.
Once it closes, things seem to shift. By the time he's sitting in the car beside me, the air around us seems different.
It's almost as if he put on a show in the bar, and now that there are no witnesses, he's different somehow.
Or maybe it's me.
I can't pinpoint a single thing he has said or done that made the change happen, but the air feels different.
Wishing I hadn't had that second drink, I stare out the window as he drives us back to my house.
I can't figure out if I'm the one who is all hot and then cold or if it's him.
I internalize everything and always have, so it's probably me. Is it possible to blame the seven minutes in heaven? Is it possible that the make-out session and then him acting as if he'd never seen my face before in his life when school started back up landed me with a lifelong case of PTSD?
Do I expect him to always act differently when there's a change of scenery, so I'm making shit up in my head, convincing myself that he's different now than he was fifteen minutes ago?
Is he even worth the trouble in the first place?