Chapter 13 #2
Shay whistles as his gaze rakes over the curvy bartender with fire-red hair and a knock-out smile. “Sweet Scarlett. Hopefully money talks.”
A tiny stab of something that feels a lot like jealously pricks my chest as Killian stares at the pretty, busty bartender. But that can’t be. It must be disgust at how he’s leering at her. Though, upon second glance, it’s more of a thoughtful look than leer.
I force myself to look away and take a big swig of my margarita. It’s not my business either way.
The waitress returns and is eyeing all three men, her gaze snagging on Killian with interest. “Can I get you anything?” she purrs with a suggestive smile.
“Sure, darlin’. You can get whatever these ladies want and put it on my tab.
” With one last glance at me, he makes his way to the bar.
I watch him lean forward and say something to Scarlett that makes her dimples pop as she laughs.
I roll my eyes and move my attention back to Lennon and Sloane, who are grinning at me.
“What?” I ask.
“You’re a pole dancer? How? When? Tell us everything,” Lennon squeals.
She gets more animated and excited about everything when she drinks, but I can’t help but catch her enthusiasm.
I tell them about my first job at The Showroom, where I met Sandro’s father, and how I put myself through med school there. I leave out any mention of Michael.
“Can you teach us some moves?” Sloane asks, holding up her arms and dancing in her chair.
Lennon gasps. “Great idea! I’ve always wanted to learn. I bet I can get Sandro to install a pole in the entertainment room.” Her glassy green eyes sparkle with mischief.
Sloane and I share a glance and then bust out laughing. “Yeah, I bet you can,” I say. “That man would do anything for you, but a private pole, yeah… that’s a no brainer.”
We order a few more appetizers and pick up the conversation.
It’s getting more difficult as the buzz in the bar gets louder and the band starts their first set.
My foot is tapping to the beat, and I’m trying my hardest to stay engaged, but I find myself glancing over at Killian more than is good for my mental health.
He’s resting one elbow on the bar, his profile to me as he chats with Pat. Shay is behind him, scanning the crowd.
I’m taking a sip of my almost empty margarita when Killian’s head turns, and he locks eyes with me.
The cold drink goes down my windpipe, and I sputter out a cough.
Jesus. Not again. This is the second time I’ve choked on my drink in front of him. He’s going to think I’m an idiot.
I excuse myself from the table, squeeze through the crowd and head down the hallway to the back restrooms, making sure I don’t look Killian’s way… which damn it, is harder than it should be. The man is supernaturally magnetic.
After I relieve myself and wash my hands, I wipe the bit of smeared mascara from under my eyes with a paper towel. Then I give myself a pep talk.
“Totally normal that you’re attracted to him.
He’s hot. He’s got the body of a god.” I moan.
He’s beautiful actually. His body. His eyes.
His goddamn rule-the-world confidence. “But you are not letting your guard down for another man. Especially one that doesn’t like you for some reason.
Focus on having fun, enjoying being with the girls for tonight.
” I pull my hair up off my shoulders, pressing the damp paper towel against the back of my neck.
A brunette stumbles out of one of the stalls and hiccups as she comes to the sink. “Right on, sister.” She holds her hand up for a high five. “Fuck the men tonight. Assholes,” she mumbles.
I smother a laugh, my mood lifting. “Enjoy your evening,” I say, opening the door. When I step out into the low-lit hallway, a figure is standing there with one foot propped against the wall, arms crossed.
It’s the man in the Tampa Bay hat.
I try to hurry past him, but his arm snakes out and grabs me. “Where you going in such a rush, sweetheart?”
I whirl around and yank my arm out of his grip. His eyes are glassy, his smile not reaching them. He takes a step closer, his gaze oozing over my body like hot slime. “What’s your name?”
My heart is pounding. My body has locked, frozen. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not interested,” I say, surprised that my voice is steady.
“That wasn’t my question,” he says, his smile stretching until he’s baring his teeth.
I know this kind of man. He thinks he’s looking at prey. He likes my fear, just like Michael. So, I shove it down and stare him dead in the eyes. “I’m going to walk away, and if you touch me again, it will be the last time you use that hand for a while.”
His eyes flick up past me for a second. Then he’s lifting his palms in the air and taking a step back.
Wow, that worked?
The woman steps out of the bathroom behind him and assesses the situation. Her hand goes to her hip as she sways on her heels. “There a problem here?”
I give her a thumbs up, feeling so much stronger than I have a long time. “All good.”
She walks around him, glaring.
He doesn’t move as we walk back down the hall together.