He knew if he looked into her clear-as-an-Alabama-blue-sky-day eyes even for a split second, that it didn’t matter how shitty the lighting was in that club, she’d be able to read him. He’d done his best to be as unreadable as possible over the years when it came to how he felt about her, how he really felt about her—and for some reason, at that moment, his mask had slipped free.
“I’ll just be . . . over there,” she whispered, seeming to sense something was off with him, and she didn’t quite know what to make of it.
“Okay.” He mentally ticked off a few seconds, waiting enough time for her to have turned and walked away before looking up.
He spotted her at the center of the dance floor as she began moving side to side, about as unsure how to dance to the electronic music as he’d be if he were out there. She was country through and through, but in that red dress, gold heels, with her wavy blonde hair framing her face and her makeup dark and sparkly . . . he’d never guess she was from a small town or that this was her first trip to New York.
He was tempted to go rescue her. Take her to a bar a little more like one they’d find back home or in Birmingham near their small town. But wasn’t the point of her trip to get away, experience somewhere else?
Jesse crossed the room to lean against the useless column and dug into his pocket for his work phone. No new messages. That was good. He swapped it for his personal one and sent out a quick message to his sister.
Jesse: How’s that “stomach ache” . . . feeling better yet?
Rory: You might have the wrong number. Who is this?
Jesse: Your brother.
Rory: Which brother? The annoying one?
Jesse: The only one, smartass.
Jesse: You suck, you know. You faked being sick. Now that I’m here, you ready to fess up?
He watched the three little bubbles appear, then vanish. Then appear again. He rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen the tension pulsing through his veins at hyper-speed, and checked on Ella.
She was moving her hips a bit more sensually now. And he was fairly certain she’d be drawing attention from the single guys any second. He clocked at least three men who had her in their sights. They were watching. Waiting to strike.
Unfortunately for them, he’d be there to strike back.
Rory: Ella texted me, you know. Said she took you to a show and you’re now at a club. I bet you’re skulking in the shadows like some creeper. All grumpy and growly about being in some swanky club.
Jesse: You don’t sound sick.
Rory: You don’t know how I sound. (cough, cough). Very sick.
Jesse: Thought it was your stomach?
He added an eye-rolling emoji.
Rory: So, you are in the shadows, aren’t you? And what happens when some jerk hits on her? You going to ride on in and save the day? Steal a horse from a city officer?
Jesse: Why are you such a pain in my ass?
Rory: Little sister job description. Didn’t you read the fine print? I could have sworn I gave you a manual decades ago.
Jesse pulled his focus from his phone to set his eyes on Ella, ensuring she was still at a safe distance from the opposite gender.
Jesse: You gotta stop setting us up. I know that’s what you think this weekend is . . . but it’s not happening. This isn’t a Christmas romance movie. There will never be an Ella and I. Or . . . Ella and me. Aw shit, I suck at grammar, but you know what I mean.
Rory sent him a few laughing emojis with tears coming from their eyes.
Rory: I know she’s a Hawkins. And she’s got 4 big brothers. And yes, you’re best friends with one of them, but, Jesse—when has anyone or anything ever stopped you from going after what you want?
Jesse: I didn’t text you for a lecture. I messaged to give you one. And an order: BACK. OFF. I can’t be with Ella. PERIOD.
Rory: Can’t?
And damn, why did he let that little word slip through the cracks, knowing his sister would want to spend hours unpacking the meaning.
Rory: Well, I suggest you remove your head from your ass and make a move. And yes, I am yelling at you with my thickest Southern drawl via text possible to make sure you get the message.
Jesse: Yeah, I hear it.
At least she wasn’t pressing on the whole “can’t” comment.
Rory: Enjoy yourself. Stop texting me and go dance. Goodnight. Feelin’ too sick to talk.
Jesse grunted in irritation and pocketed his phone and watched Ella dance, her wrists now linked over her head as she continued to give him a heart attack.
And heaven help the man that was two seconds away from making a move on Ella.
Don’t do it. Don’t do it. He didn’t want to have to break any arms in front of Ella on her weekend getaway. And shit. The guy set both hands on Ella’s waist, attempting to pull her flush to his body.
Ella’s palms landed on the man’s chest, but Jesse was already on the move. She began to shove, which awakened the beast inside him.
Jesse snatched the back of the man’s neck and squeezed. He clamped down on his back teeth as he reminded himself there were witnesses. He didn’t need to end up on someone’s Instagram story. Crazy guy breaks man’s neck at New York City club. Yeah, that wouldn’t go over well with his boss.
“It’s okay. You can let him go.” Ella held up her hand, urging Jesse to back down.
Her soft voice had Jesse’s body relaxing somewhat, but he didn’t release the harsh hold of the man.
“He’s harmless. Let him go,” Ella pleaded, which had Jesse freeing the prick, and the dumbass backed off.
“That was a little overboard, don’t you think?” He couldn’t see her eye roll with the flickering lights crossing her face, but he knew one was there.
“He shouldn’t have touched you.” He adjusted the collar of his shirt, checking for any other potential threats, and the men around them seemed to sense he was the threat. Good.
But he’d still prefer to get her off the damn dance floor, so he reached for her arm and guided her to the column where he’d previously stood.
Ella set her back to it and crossed her arms. “You know, you looked all Joe-like watching me dance.”
“Define ‘Joe-like.’” He lifted a brow and leaned in closer, setting a hand on the column over her head.
“The show, You. The main character, Joe, goes all stalker-y on a woman in season one. Obsessively watching her.”
“You’re calling me a stalker? And also, obsessive?”
“Well, in this case, I knew you were there, but as for obsessive? Only in your goal to protect your best friend’s sister from anyone with a pulse. Or a dick.”
He almost choked on that last word she’d spit out that still seemed to cling to the hot air.
Ella lifted her eyes to the industrial ceiling as if seeking out the exposed air ducts there, but there was something in that quick dodge that had him curious what she was really thinking. She wasn’t embarrassed for dropping the D-word on him. No, she didn’t get embarrassed. So, what was it?
“You love to bust my balls, same as Rory.”
She smiled, bringing her gaze back to his face. “It’s not hard to do.”
“Mmhm.” He pushed away from the column and took a step back because when his attention snagged on her bright red lips, his dick was now the only problem in the room. And he’d swear Ella somehow knew because she studied him like he’d done something sinful and would be needing forgiveness in spades.