I shirk from his touch and move away, weaving in and out of bodies in search of Jodi. I pass through a set of glass doors that lead to an open-air back porch. It’s hot and sticky but there are wide-bladed fans positioned on tall posts bordering the space and the music and crowd are less intense so at least I can breathe properly. I send Jodi a quick text, find an empty seat near the end of the bar, and ask the bartender for a soda and an order of fries from the kitchen.
Pulling my wallet out of the zippered pocket of the purse draped across my chest, I sort through my cards until I find what I’m looking for. I’m just about to hand over my debit card when an unfamiliar hand reaches over my shoulder and pushes money across the smooth surface of the bar. “Put that away. It’s on me.”
I twist on the barstool and look up and into a set of almond-shaped dark brown eyes. It takes a startled moment to process that this is the guy that bumped into me over by the front door. He’s leaning into my space, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
Before I can even work up to a protest, he places a finger firmly against my lips and slurs, “Let me at least get you the drink and the fries as an apology for almost knocking you over back there.”
I wrench away from his fingers. “Thanks, but I’m fine.”
“I know that you’re fine, baby.”
Who calls a girl he hasn’t even met “baby”? The needle on my ick radar just redlined. The guy leans in and his breath is warm and moist against my cheek. He smells sour—like a putrid mixture of beer and cheese. I push myself away, shuddering and scraping my fingernails along the bar top.
“Uhhh… Really, I appreciate the gesture, but it isn’t necessary.”
The guy steps forward, managing to position his body even closer to mine. “Well, this might shock you, but buying that drink was just a way to meet you and hopefully convince you to get out on the dance floor with me.” He winks seductively. “I’m Brady, by the way.”
The majority of the female population would probably find Brady cute with his glinting brown eyes and flirty grin. He’s working a boyish, obviously-want-to-get-in-your-panties angle that I guess works on your average college girl, just not on me. I may be out of practice in the dating scene, but I still remember how to read a guy like him and I’m not about to be a part of the one-night stand waiting at the end of Brady’s night.
I look back toward the interior of the bar where I can see the outline of bodies grinding to the fast-paced club music hammering through the speakers. This place is not my scene. Not by a long shot. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m not interested in dancing with you or anyone else tonight.” I say in a clipped tone that I hope is polite but still laced with a definite rejection. An uncomfortable knot is starting to form in the pit of my stomach.
“Okay, okay,” he says, glancing down at my chest with unguarded interest. “I can see that you’re a little firecracker and this is going to be fun. Now,” his index finger trails a slimy path down my arm, “if you aren’t interested in dancing with me, why don’t you tell me what you are interested in? That would be a good place to begin.”
Trying to ignore the sexual undercurrent rolling through his words and the jitter of anxiety pumping through my veins, I rigidly pivot my body. “I’m getting less and less interested in this conversation, Brady. Does that clarify things for you?”
“Hell,” Brady whines playfully as he fingers my braided hair. “You’re killing me here! At least tell me your name.”
I open my mouth, fully intending to shell out a fake name to get this guy to leave me alone, when a firm grip falls against the nape of my neck. I jump at the contact and the unexpected jolt of warmth that shoots down my back.
Cole
My right hand is balled in a fist. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Back off, man. I think that she already told you that she wasn’t interested. Now you’re just pushing your luck and my sense of magnanimity,” I say, stepping forward and squaring my shoulders defensively.
I know how to be threatening when the situation calls for it and this is a situation that calls for it. Brady should be down on his pathetic knees thanking God that I don’t have his ass pinned to the ground right now. I saw the scared look on Aimee’s face and I heard exactly what she said to him and now a rush of hot blood is surging through my whole body. Maybe it’s an overreaction, but I’m fucking furious.
Brady just laughs at me. “What the hell does that mean? Magnana-what?”
I feel Aimee shiver underneath my left hand and that pisses me off even more. Swallowing hard, I level a steely gaze at Brady. “Seriously, fuckwad, you need to walk away from this right now.”