Chapter 11
Garrett
I can’t explain what came over me when I stepped into the bar and saw Angela with that creep invading her space.
Her body language said she wanted nothing to do with the guy while his told me he didn’t give two shits what she wanted.
I acted without thinking, sliding an arm around her shoulder rather than punching the guy in the face.
I haven’t wanted to hit someone like that in years. Not since I found Elizabeth with…
I stop that thought with a shake of my head.
What I can’t figure out is why I wanted to hit a man for touching a woman I can’t stand. I’m chalking it up to my protective streak until I find a better answer.
“Since we’re handing out apologies…” Angela smiles wryly, bringing me out of my thoughts. “Assuming that’s what just happened. You apologizing for being late the other day.” Her brow arches as a half-smile lifts full lips.
She’s a spitfire, that’s for sure.
“You mean, you don’t know?” I ask, then signal the bartender for another drink.
“It’s just that generally, apologies come with the words ‘I’m sorry’ somewhere in there.” Angela rests her chin in her palm. “That’s what really seals the deal. Otherwise, it’s just a lot of words that don’t really amount to anything.”
She’s got balls. I’ll give her that. I may not like her, but I am starting to respect her.
The bartender returns with my drink, and I take a sip. “And I didn’t say that?”
Angela pretends to think. “I seem to remember an explanation. A vague one at that. There was something about you being indisposed, and then somehow you blaming me for not knowing, but no…I’m sure I never heard anything that sounded like ‘I’m sorry.’”
The sparkle in her eyes says she likes getting under my skin just as much as I like getting under hers. She’s expecting me to push back. To dig in and put up a fight. But I know how to throw her off her game.
Shifting to face her, I meet her eyes, purposefully softening my expression into a look of absolute contrition.
“Angela. Please accept my sincerest apologies for being late. I hope you’ll understand the slight wasn’t intentional as I didn’t see your counter-order of meeting at six instead of seven. ”
“Counter-order?” Her eyebrows hit her hairline as a laugh escapes sultry lips.
“‘Be there at six instead.’ That doesn’t sound like an order to you?”
“It sounds as much like an order as ‘Be there at seven.’” She leans both elbows on the bar and quirks her head. “I wanted to make sure you knew who you were dealing with.”
“And who am I dealing with?”
“Someone who doesn’t like being ordered around.” Her gaze is fire and ice, an invitation…and a challenge.
“That’s too bad, Angel.” My voice is low, my smile wry. “I like giving orders.”
Color rises in her cheeks and her eyes dilate as they lock on mine. She wants to say something. I see it in the way her lips part, hear it in her sharp intake of breath. Instead, she blinks, swallows hard, and gives her attention to her drink.
I sip my whiskey and lick my lips.
Where the fuck did that come from? I walked into this bar to meet a woman I can’t stand, and now I’m flirting? With a business associate? The Florida sun must be melting my brain.
“Anyway…” Angela switches back to her customer service smile.
“I do owe you an apology. As I said before, I accidentally read some of your texts. I know about your fiancée, and I feel like I need to put that out there.” She casts a sympathetic glance my way.
“So, in the spirit of apologizing properly, I’m sorry about what happened. ”
“Fiancée?” I frown, confused. “You mean Melinda?” The name enters the conversation on a laugh because the idea of her being anything close to permanent is hilarious.
Angela nods. “The first text I got was that picture of her with another man.” She grimaces.
“Well no, the first text…” She stares dreamily into her drink, then shakes her head.
“That’s not important. What I’m trying to say is I’ve been feeling so bad for you, finding out about her cheating like that.
And it doesn’t seem fair that I know, and you don’t know I know.
So now you know I know, and I can stop feeling bad for you know, knowing. ”
“Melinda wasn’t my fiancée.” Still chuckling, I swipe my drink off the bar and shake my head. “Not by a long shot.”
“But her contact name…The Future Mrs. Cooper…”
“My sister did that as a joke. Melinda is a lot of things, but wife material isn’t one of them. She was—” I make a dismissive gesture “—a distraction.”
“A distraction?” Angela wrinkles her nose. “That sounds awfully…”
“Detached?”
She gives me a look like I’m full of shit. “That’s a nice way of putting it.”
“My sister agrees with you. She changed Melinda’s contact name to The Future Mrs. Cooper to make a point about the women I associate with.”
Angela bobs her head, clearly siding with Charlie. “Are you guys close? You and your sister? I get the feeling you must be.”
“Why’s that?”
“I can’t imagine anyone else having the balls to come near your phone without fear of losing a hand.”
“Funny,” I deadpan, lifting my drink with a sarcastic shake of my head, then bring the glass to my lips. “She and my brother are the only people I trust in the world. Well, and my parents. And Brennen, and Lily. They’re family friends, but we grew up together, so I consider them honorary cousins.”
“I’m close with my family too. No brothers or sisters, but Nick?” Angela quirks her head in question.
“The wonderful?” I half-smile, remembering how angry I was on his behalf when I found her sitting with her cousins the other night. The conclusion that she was cheating seemed so obvious at the time.
Funny how that works when you don’t have all the information.
“That’s the one. We were born one day apart, and I don’t know…I think he might be my person. He’s overseas right now. He’s a Marine, and works in intelligence, so I never really know where he is or what he’s doing. Which means I’m simultaneously proud of him and scared to death all the time.”
“And your other cousins?”
“Which ones? There are so many.” She laughs, her face brightening at the mention of her family.
She’s prettier than I gave her credit for, especially when she smiles.
“But for the sake of argument,” she continues, “I’ll assume you mean the guys you met the other night.
Micah—his parents own this bar—he’s just this ball of energy.
A firefighter. He’s a lot, his humor is its own brand, like it’s this whole thing, but he’s amazing.
Nathan works for my Aunt Maisie’s charity and…
” Angela’s features tighten as she finishes her gin and tonic with a shake of her head.
“Not a fan of your aunt’s charity?”
“No, it’s not that. Nathan’s dating this woman and she’s…”
“A distraction?” I lift a brow.
“Worse. I’m afraid she’s angling to be permanent.”
“The horror!” I clutch imaginary pearls.
“Nothing wrong with marriage if you’re with the right person.
But…Nathan’s a great guy who’d do anything for anyone and this woman…
” Angela clicks her tongue. “She’s got these two little girls and, you know, nothing wrong with that either.
Just everything about her feels off.” She shrugs.
“I don’t know what it is, but I get the feeling she’s taking advantage of him. ”
I nod, returning my focus to my whiskey. “And that is why I prefer my relationships in the form of distractions. No commitment. No feelings. If someone feels taken advantage of then everyone is cool to walk away.”
“But are you though?” Angela wrinkles her nose. “Cool to walk away?”
“Do I look bothered by the Melinda thing?”
“Not particularly, but didn’t it hurt to see her with that other guy? Even a little? Maybe deep down in this region?” She waves a hand over my chest.
Laughing, I pivot to make eye contact. “Not even a little.”
“I don’t believe you.” She lifts her chin and it’s another challenge. Prove me wrong, says the twinkle in her eye.
Ask and you shall receive, says the half-smile quirking my lips.
“Fine. Let me demonstrate.” I put my glass down on the bar, then lean close. “Do you trust me?”
“What?” Angela’s voice is low. Guarded. She leans closer.
“Do you trust me?”
“No offense,” she says with a laugh, “but I really don’t know you well enough to trust you.”
“Good answer. Would you say we have a connection?”
“Garrett…” Angela draws back. “Where are you going with this?”
“Just answer the question.”
Her eyes search mine for several seconds, then she brings out her customer service smile. “I’d say we have the beginnings of a wonderful business relationsh—”
“Is there a connection, Angel? Chemistry?”
“I don’t…” She shakes her head. “No. We only just met. I’m not even sure we like each other. And don’t call me—”
Gripping the back of her neck, I lean down and press my lips to hers, intending to demonstrate how perfectly normal it is for me to be unbothered by my relationship with Melinda coming to an end.
But that isn’t what happens.
Angela tastes of lime and feels like lightning, her gasp sending a jolt of lust to my cock.
I thought I’d stop there. Make my point and pull away.
But I don’t.
I kiss along her jaw, using my hand to tilt her head and damn if she doesn’t give in, closing her eyes and sighing in pleasure.
I didn’t expect this.
The surge of lust swelling my dick.
My hand fisting her hair.
“Does it feel good, Sweet Angel?” I whisper, my voice rough, commanding. “Do you like it when I take what I want?”
Her hair smells of coconut and I adjust my grip on those red locks, savoring the taste of her skin as my lips find hers again.
I didn’t think I’d growl into her ear. I didn’t think I’d want to strip her naked, bend her over the bar, and bury myself in her silky warmth.
I thought I’d kiss her, prove my point, and sit the fuck back down.
Angela’s breath hitches and when I pull away, her lips are parted, her eyes wild, burning with a heat I wasn’t prepared to meet. I stare into her blues, desire boiling inside me.
I blink.
Clear my throat.
Return to my seat and finish my whiskey.
“Now,” I grit out, as coolly as I can muster. “After that kiss, if you saw me in a picture with another woman, would it hurt?”
Angela licks her lips.
Releases a shuddering breath.
Forces a smile.
“Not even a little.” Her voice is strained. Her eyes wide. Her lips parted and swollen as she swallows hard and looks away.
She’s lying. Or she’s considering filing a sexual assault charge.
Either way, I crossed a line…
…I obliterated a line…
And there’s no going back.