Chapter 5 – Sidney #2
“Christ, Sidney.” His eyes flicker over every part of me. Checking for bruises. Looking for tears. Waiting for a meltdown. “I forgot to pay my tab. I was coming back to— how stupid can you be?”
“Excuse me?” If he wanted to give my emotions whiplash, then he just accomplished it.
“What woman walks into a dark alley behind a bar by herself?”
“You’re blaming this on me?”
“Damn straight, I am. Are you too coddled to have common sense?”
Asshole. “I was looking for you,” I say between clenched teeth as I glare at him.
Our eyes hold for the briefest of moments before he turns and paces from one side of the alley to the other.
His hands are on the back of his head when he blows out an exaggerated breath as if he’s trying to rein in his temper.
When he stops in front of me and holds his hands out to his sides, it’s obvious his attempt is unsuccessful.
“Looking for me? Why? To save your magazine? Save it your goddamn self.” There must be something in my expression—call it blanket confusion—that has a smirk coming to his lips.
“Ah . . . you didn’t realize you said that, did you?
A little slip of the tongue while you were fumbling through your sales pitch inside? ”
Did I really say that? Crap. Crap. Crap.
“You know, a real gentleman would ask if I’m okay.”
“No,” he says and takes a step closer. “A real gentleman would step in to save you like I did, and a real lady would say thank you for doing so . . . but it’s you, right? You want something from everyone but refuse to give anything to anyone, so a thank you is off the table.”
“That isn’t fair.”
“Save it, Princess; life’s not fair.” There’s a bite to his tone as he takes in my trembling hands and shivering body, but he never utters the words his eyes say—are you okay?
—before they turn cold again. The brief glimpse of compassion is gone.
“And it seems to me you’re just fine, so playing the damsel-in-distress thing doesn’t work for me, and it sure as hell isn’t going to get me to sign on as the poster boy for your stupid contest.”
“The last thing I need is a man to swoop in and save the day.”
“Huh. And I thought all princesses were helpless and liked to be saved.”
“I am not a princess.”
“You just stomped your foot like you were.” He shakes his head before looking to the edge of the alley and then back at me. “Are we done here? Because if so, I’ll just take off, and you can stay here and find someone to take my place in your contest.”
“You’re an asshole, you know that?”
His chuckle reverberates off the brick walls of the bar’s exterior and back to me, causing every part of me to bristle. “You’re not the first to call me that, and you sure as hell won’t be the last.”
His words grate on my nerves and have my thoughts misfiring so I can’t actually form words. All I manage to get out is, “Grayson.” My mouth opens and closes several times but nothing else comes out.
“What’s that?” he asks as he holds a hand up to his ear.
“It seems that you’re having a hard time thinking of what to say, so I’ll help.
The words you’re looking for are ‘thank you.’ Then again, I shouldn’t expect it from you now since you never knew how to say them before.
I’m old enough to know that people don’t change. ”
“That’s not—”
“Fair. I know,” he says nonchalantly. “Are we going to stand here and wait for Mick to come back or what?”
“Mick?”
“Harmless drunk guy. Oh . . . wait. Is this all a set-up to see who would take the bait? Should I go so Mick can come back and you can wrangle some other sap from inside to rush out and save you, so you can put him in your contest?”
“This wasn’t a setup. I’m not that conniving or desperate to pull a stunt like that.”
“You sure about that?”
“Screw you.”
“No thanks, I haven’t had enough to drink yet.”
I grit my teeth and fist my hands as every part of me rejects him. At the same time, I hate myself for watching the flex of his bicep as he runs his hand through his hair in frustration, as I remember the heat and feel of his body against mine earlier.
“Such an ass,” I mutter as I stalk past him with fury in my veins.
“So that means no thank you then?” he asks above the click of my heels on the uneven pavement only serving to make me step a little harder.
And then falter.
Fuck.
I stop and hang my head. What in the hell am I doing? I’m standing in a dank alley with the neon from the sign at the front of the bar projecting an eerie glow around me and letting my temper get the better of me.
Is he being a prick? Yes. Is he baiting me so that I hate him and will leave him alone? Hell, yes.
And I walked right into it.
Crap. Crap. Crap.
“Look, I’m sorry.” My words are quiet, but I know he hears every word because his steps slow and then stop. “Thank you for your help.”
When I lift my head, he’s staring at me, head angled, eyes unrelenting, bottom lip worrying between his teeth. “No thanks needed. A gentleman doesn’t step in for those . . . but it’s amazing what sincerity and humility can do to a person’s appeal. You should try it more often.”
Don’t take the bait.
“What’s your problem, Malone?”
“You.” He’s so matter-of-fact it startles me.
“Me?”
“Yep.” This time with a definitive nod.
“Hold grudges long?”
“Nope. Just smart enough to know that people don’t change and too busy to give a rat’s ass if they do.”
We stand there and stare at each other across the dim light as our wills battle.
“You’re infuriating.”
“Good. Then maybe you’ll drop this contest nonsense and stop stalking me to try to win me over.” He lifts his eyebrows as he waits for a response.
“That’s what this is all about?” I laugh in disbelief. “You’re pissed off because you entered a contest and now you don’t want to be a part of it?”
“First, I didn’t enter any contest—my brothers entered me.
And second, my opinion of you has nothing to do with my saying no to the contest. It’s your holier-than-thou attitude that has me saying no.
” He retreats a step, the parking lot of cars at his back now, and then takes a look at my hands and smiles smugly.
“Make sure to wash that blue-collar off you. It doesn’t suit you too well. ”
With that, he walks over to a truck parked across the street, climbs in, sends one final glare my way, and then pulls a U-turn and drives off.
For some reason, I walk to the corner of the street and stare at his taillights as they glow at the stoplight, willing him good riddance while at the same time fighting the urge to chase him down so I can get the last word in.
It’s probably best he left when he did. I chuckle, clearly hearing the lunacy edging its sound as I wonder how in the hell I’m going to undo all of that. How am I going to step this back so that I can accomplish the one thing Rissa tasked me with?