Twisted(9)

Someone’s snorting giggle snapped them out of the moment. Thank God. She wouldn’t have kissed him, but she really didn’t want to get stuck in the position of having to turn him down. Her own feelings were entirely too bruised. If she could distract him from whatever madness had sent him pinging back her way, that would be much better.

“Um, Nick…” Her attention veered right and the words died on her lips. Gray stood at the end of the bar, arms crossed. He didn’t look happy.

That made two of them.

“Let me up.” She stumbled off the stool, barreling into Nick in the process.

“Hey.” Nick laughed as he caught her arms. He smelled of smoke and leather, the scents she most often associated with him. “Guess I shouldn’t have gotten you another one. You’re already locked and loaded.” He spoke close to her ear. “You tired of this yet? We could—”

Gray yanked hard on his shoulder. “Get the hell away from her, Crandall.”

Nick turned his head, but he didn’t look pissed as much as amused again. “Duffy. Back to this, are we?”

Jazz put a hand on each of their chests, ignoring the call of her fingers to curl into Gray’s shirt. He’d swapped his leather vest for a black T-shirt that clung to his pecs. “Guys, tonight’s not the night.”

She wasn’t even sure why Gray was in Nick’s face. He usually wasn’t so openly confrontational, especially since nothing was even going on. But Gray’s eyelid was twitching and he clenched his jaw so tightly it had to hurt.

Nick only aimed a mild look at her hand. “I’m good, Jasmine. No need to restrain me.”

“No, that’s not what you wanted her to do to you, you stupid prick. She’s not just some receptacle.”

Heat flooded Jazz’s cheeks. Jesus. “Gray, stop it. What’s gotten into you?”

Nick’s nostrils flared as he tossed a look at Gray. “I have some idea,” he said almost too low for her to hear.

She frowned. What was that supposed to mean?

“You got something to say to me, Crandall?” Gray shoved Nick against the bar, upending Jazz’s third drink in the process. “Go right the fuck ahead.”

Nick slammed his hands against Gray’s shoulders. “Back off, you fucking moron.”

Gray grabbed his upper arms, pinning him to the bar for one humming moment before Nick sent him careening backward. Jazz’s stool went flying with her still on it. She landed hard, her glass miraculously still in one hand, the other attached to the sticky floor with what felt like superglue. Ick. She’d have to burn this dress.

A little dizzy, she looked around at the people that surrounded her—some still dancing, some standing still to show off their incredibly hot shoes, some taking the opportunity to get into shoving contests of their own. Her ass hurt. And damn, she really felt short way down here.

All of a sudden she was pulled upward, so quickly that her unsteady head threatened to spin right off her shoulders. Whoa. Her dizziness only got worse when she realized she was being carried through the laughing, jeering crowd by Gray. Her stomach wobbled and she tried to get her bearings.

Before she could, he planted her on a stool at the far end of the bar, then summoned a glass of water and pressed it into her trembling fingers. “Are you okay?”

Gray’s shoulder-length wavy dark hair brushed the round collar of his shirt as he leaned closer to peer into her eyes. His wet dark hair. Looked like he’d taken that shower. Alone?

Forget it. Not relevant.

“Just bruised my pride.” She drank the water because it gave her something to do other than try to bite that sexy-as-hell jaw of his. Not that she’d be able to manage it at this angle. But if she stood up on the rungs of the stool for a little boost—

“Jasmine, are you okay?”

She shut her eyes at Nick’s voice. He never knew when to let incensed dogs lie. “Fine,” she said weakly, praying he would just leave. “When I was on the floor, I saw some shoes I need to find. Strappy silver sandals with a wedge heel. Super cute.” When she opened her eyes and caught Gray’s narrow-eyed expression, she decided she’d used the heel to wedge her own mouth shut. “Just making a joke,” she muttered.

“Not the time.”

“Yeah, well, when is the time?” Anger and embarrassment welled up inside her and she pushed him out of her face. “How dare you? You show up late after promising you’d be here. I ask for one little thing and you can’t even give me that.” She pushed him harder. “Then you get in my face if some guy dares look at me, but you can’t even see me when I’m standing right in front of you.”