A Beautiful Distraction(23)

His shoulders rolled forward as he sighed, and that damaged mouth of his desperately avoided curving into a devilish smile. Two things crossed her mind at that point. One was that her body seemed content with the feel of his lining hers. And the other was that she actually appreciated his concern, his protectiveness. She couldn’t pinpoint a moment in her life when a simple touch made her feel secure. And even though his gesture was hardly necessary, she allowed herself to welcome the sensation.

Fallon leaned against the glass door smudged with layers of fingerprints and walked inside. As usual, it was occupied by its regulars and she could count them all on her fingers and toes.

“Well, look who has graced us with her presence,” a rough voice, well attained by years of cigarette smoke, belted as Fallon made her way through the small bar with Rafe close behind her. His hand was still resting on her back and she could feel the eyes of the men watching her. But not for reasons Rafe would have assumed.

“Good to see you too, Pete,” she greeted. Her shoes peeled from the sticky floor as she crossed to the bar. Sitting down on the barstool, she leaned over and gave Pete a one-armed hug.

“Who in the hell’s he?” Pete pinned his stare to Rafe. He was standing next to her, hand no longer on her back.

Rafe’s arm darted out in front of him, offering his hand to Pete. “Rafe.”

Pete studied Rafe’s swollen and cracked knuckles while his hand hung in the air between them. Disapproval was evident on his aged face. Looking to Rafe, he clamped his hand to his and shook it with one firm jerk.

Nodding, Pete dropped Rafe’s hand with a silent understanding, or maybe defeat—Fallon wasn’t sure—then turned his scrutiny to her. She’d accept the ass chewing she was bound to get. She hadn’t visited in more than a year.

“Nice seeing your pretty face again,” he lilted, lifting a glass from beneath the bar and wiping it clean with a rag. “You ain’t bringing trouble to my bar, are you, girl?”

Pete pulled a narrow glass bottle from the shelf behind him and flooded the tumbler with its golden liquid.

Fallon crossed her legs underneath the ledge of the bar. “You should know me better than that, Pete.”

“I know you better, but I ain’t know this man”—he tilted the liquor bottle toward Rafe—“and he’s got trouble dripping down the side of his face.”

Fallon looked to Rafe, who had taken a casual stance against the bar, leaning his side into the old, gritty wood. He seemed relatively amused by Pete, his arms hanging loosely at his sides. Fallon took a moment to appreciate the artwork that covered every inch of flesh on his muscular forearms. The dim light of the bar made them look different than when she first saw them in the dark parking lot. They were beautiful, intricate, a complementary mix of blacks and grays woven around vivacious colors.

Coasting her eyes to his face, she saw that the small cut on the corner of his eye was bleeding again. It must have been deeper than she’d originally thought.

Pete slid the glass he’d just filled to Rafe.

“Thanks,” he said, picking up the glass and pressing it to his lips. Watching him drink was a form of hypnotism. His mouth and his throat—they both made her feel as if she were in a trance.

“How’d you know what I’d like?” he asked as he set the empty glass back down on the bar.

“Lucky guess,” Pete answered, handing Fallon a glass of Diet Coke.

“I don’t drink,” she said, answering Rafe’s unspoken question. Swiveling off her stool, she went behind the bar, lifting a small container from beneath the counter. “Now come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”





CHAPTER SIX


Once again Rafe was amazed at the speed that woman could attain in a pair of heels. Her hips rocked back and forth harmoniously to the sound of her gentle clicking as he followed her to the back of the bar, completely enjoying his view.

“In here,” she instructed, pushing the bathroom door open.

“Kinky. I didn’t know bathrooms were your thing,” he quipped, stepping next to her in the doorway. His body was crammed against hers in the tight confines. Sleek, soft curves lined his firm frame. The top of her head reached his chest, his height towering over her.

Silky brown hair tumbled over her shoulder as she tilted her head to the side. “Huh.” She chortled, amusement lining her lips. “I didn’t realize sarcastic wit was your thing. Unfortunate.”

Her hand levered against his stomach as she squeezed past him. He remained in the doorway, watching her reflection in the mirror as she stood at the porcelain sink wetting a couple of paper towels.