A Stone in the Sea(17)

She was super weird about Baz. Continually telling me to be careful, tracking him like she thought I wouldn’t notice. But we both knew he’d been coming back for me. And we both knew I liked it, even though I refused to do anything about it.

Since the second night he’d been here, he hadn’t asked me out again. He’d sit back in the plush booth—vibrant, larger than life, enough to cloud my head and stir up my heart—and talk to me as if it were the most casual thing in the world and he hadn’t lit my body on fire in the hallway just days before. But beneath all his ease was a severe intensity, a magnetic force pulling me in.

Tamar looked at me with wide, incredulous eyes, before she shook her head like the four of them were the most shocking thing to ever have walked through Charlie’s doors. “Nothing,” she said with a short, disbelieving laugh and a quick shake of her head. “I’d just come to think your boy there was a loner.”

“Not my boy.”

“Right.” She quirked a sassy grin. “The two of you have me feeling sexually frustrated watching you play cat and mouse night after night. I’m about to take matters into my own hands.”

“You’re gross.”

She chuckled. “And you are blind.” She grabbed a bottle of tequila and poured it across four shot glasses she had lined up. She glanced back up at me. “What are you waiting for? One of the other girls is going to grab them if you don’t get your ass over there. Last thing I need is to deal with you pouting all night because someone stole your man.”

I almost corrected her then bit my tongue.

Because when he was here?

Everything about it felt like he was my man.

I weaved my way through all the bodies, focusing on keeping the drinks balanced on my tray from sloshing while I was doing my best to keep my feet from falling out from under me. The way Baz was looking at me as I approached had energy vibrating me all the way to my bones. Like he wanted to devour every inch of me. With each step, my stomach flipped, and those butterflies took off in a mad frenzy.

Butterfly.

The thought gave me pause. A reminder of the one thing in this world that was truly important to me.

I edged forward, and my voice wavered a little when I said, “Hey,” not sure if I should act like I knew him or pretend he didn’t have my knees knocking.

My wary gaze was pulled to the guys he was with.

If I thought Baz was trouble before, I was sure of it now.

The four of them standing there together looked like they belonged on the cover of some heavy metal magazine, all of them covered in tattoos, wearing tight, tight jeans, torn-up Vans, something like mischief and malice strewn all over their attractive faces. They were all beautiful in their own destructive way. Each stuck out in this bar as if they’d been drawn in with the sole purpose of taking a hit on the ego of every other man in the bar.

But none of the other three were quite like Baz.

Because achieving that would be impossible.

His hands were shoved deep in the pockets of his jeans, the muscles in his forearms twitching with discomfort, and he rocked back on his heels. “Hey,” he returned, hoisting up a shoulder without withdrawing his hands. “Brought some friends with me tonight.”

Right. I hadn’t noticed.

I lifted a brow. “Four?”

“Yep.” He almost sounded like the fact irritated him.

Looking over my shoulder, I scanned my overflowing section near the stage. I’d just delivered a bill to an older couple who were getting ready to leave. “I should have a table opening up in a second. Let me go save it for you guys. Unless that’s too close to the stage and you’d like to wait for something more private to open up?”

With that, I turned my attention to Baz, and a little smirk hinted at the corner of his pretty, pretty mouth, because we both knew I was talking about his spot. It was too busy tonight for me to be able to keep it open for him, unsure if he’d even show.

The shorter guy who was all kinds of dimples and wavy blond hair—and just cute enough to delude you into thinking he was less trouble than the rest of the guys—clapped Baz on the back. Blue eyes glinted at me, everything about him confident and cocky in an outright flirty way. “No, darlin’, up close will do just fine.”

My eyes darted to Baz, who was gnawing on the inside of his bottom lip, like he was debating whether to punch his friend in the throat or laugh at him.

Good Lord. I was going to have my hands full tonight.

“Okay then. Let me get it ready for you.” I sucked in a calming breath when I turned away, thankful for the second to clear my head.

I delivered drinks to my tables, then fought to make my way toward the stage to the table the couple was leaving. Quickly I stacked the empties on my tray and wiped down the table. I waved the towel in the air to get Baz’s attention, though I knew it was unnecessary. His heated gaze was already locked on me. He signaled his friends to follow and began to make his way through the throng. Though the waters seemed to part for him, not one person in the room exempt to the force of him and his friends.