Chapter four Logan
Chapter four
Logan
I didn't come out tonight with the intention of meeting someone. If anything, all I wanted to do was show my face long enough to get the guys off my back. Besides last night’s brush fire, it’s been a while since we have had to deal with any major calls, and I know the crew is getting restless.
We are all in dire need of a night out to relieve some of the energy buzzing beneath our skin, and the curvy brunette I watched stumble her way through line dancing could be the hit of adrenaline I’m looking for.
If it weren’t for her catching my attention, I probably would have found a way to call it a night already.
I had a drink with the crew, did a little friendly shit talking about each other, and listened as they shared stories about their latest conquests.
I fulfilled my brotherly duty. But I can’t walk away now if there’s any possibility of getting to enjoy this woman’s company for the night.
I watch as she waves a hand at Olivia, Tilly’s sister, and makes her way in the direction of the bar. I wouldn’t say I am friends with either of them, but I have been here enough times, by myself and with the guys, to be somewhat familiar with the owners of the place.
Cain nudges my arm before tipping his beer in the woman’s direction. “You gonna go over there and say something to her, or are you just gonna keep staring?”
“Fuck off.” I shove him away from me as I make my way toward the bar.
The least I can do is offer to buy her a drink after the way I’ve been watching her.
It doesn’t seem like she’s here with anyone, and I didn’t catch a ring on her finger.
I would feel like an ass if I propositioned her in any way and found out she’s already involved with someone.
I might not be looking for anything serious, but that doesn’t mean I want to be some kind of home wrecker.
The woman’s back is turned toward me as I approach her.
There’s an empty space to her left, giving me the window I need to slide in and introduce myself.
Which is exactly what I’m preparing to do when she spins around with a drink in one hand and a bottle of water in the other, and runs right into me.
Ice and cold liquid splash against my chest and stomach, soaking through to my skin.
She’s holding both hands out in front of her, eyes wide in shock as a pink tint rises to her cheeks.
I can’t help the laugh that bursts free as she rushes to apologize. “And here I was thinkin’ I’m the one who’s supposed to get you wet,” I tease, swiping a hand across the front of my shirt as if I can wipe away the evidence.
Her mouth drops open, her lips curling slightly at the corners as she fights back a smile. “You did not just say that.” The lightness coating her voice assures me that she’s not offended by my comment. She’s amused by it.
“It wasn’t the introduction I was aiming for, but here we are.” I shrug.
She laughs and turns to set her near-empty drinks on the bar before facing me, placing one hand on her hip. “Is that what’s happening right now? You’re introducing yourself?”
Shit. I’m already failing. I haven’t told her my fucking name yet, and I need to if I want this to go anywhere, but I’m having too much fun with the spark dancing in her eyes as she stares me down.
There’s something about her playful exterior that has me wondering if something deeper, darker lies beneath the surface.
I’ve been around too many people who battle an invisible darkness not to recognize when there’s more to someone than what they show the world.
“It’s what I planned on doing before you threw your drink at me.” The light-hearted taunt slips free as I take a step closer to her. My gaze drops to her mouth, tracing the cupid's bow of her upper lip for a moment before I raise a hand, signaling for the bartender.
“I did not throw my drink at you,” she insists. Damn, if I don’t love how feisty she is.
The bartender tips his chin up at me in greeting as he slides to our end of the bar. “What can I get for you?”
I turn my head to look at her. “What is it that you threw at me, darlin’?” A smirk curls at my lips as she rolls her eyes and grabs the almost-empty glass, passing them to the bartender.
“I’m sorry, Owen. I was a little distracted and accidentally ran into this guy.
Most of my drink ended up on his shirt.” She gestures to my chest and stomach like she’s trying to show proof of her mishap.
“Can you make me another? You can put it on his tab.” She smiles, tilting her head in my direction.
“It’s his fault I was distracted in the first place. ”
“I’ll take one of whatever she’s having,” I say, and Owen taps the bartop in acknowledgment before turning away to make our drinks. “So do I at least get to know your name if you’re going to blame me for your spilled drink?”
Even if this little interaction goes nowhere, it feels good to be talking to someone new, someone I don’t know from work. It’s so easy to get lost in the day-to-day bullshit and forget that an entire world exists outside of the walls of the station and the emergencies we handle.
“I’m not sure you’ve earned it just yet.” She smiles in thanks to the bartender as he places our drinks in front of us. There’s a red tint rising to her cheeks as she takes a sip of the dark alcohol.
“What do I need to do to earn it?” Fuck, I sound desperate, but I guess I kinda am. It’s been a long time since I’ve had company aside from my own damn hand, and even if this woman won’t give me the time of day, I’ll at least have visions of her to get off to later tonight.
“Well…” She taps her cheek as she turns away from the bar, putting her back to it as her eyes scan the room.
I want to tell her that I'll do whatever she asks me to if it means she'll tell me her name, but instead, I stand quietly and wait to see what she decides.
There isn't much she could ask me to do here at The Stampede that I would say no to, and I’d happily make a fool of myself if it would bring a smile to her face.