“Hey, man,” Curtis greets as he settles on the barstool beside me. I shouldn’t be out drinking, but I needed this to calm the fuck down.
“What’s up?”
“You and that new girl,” he tells me with a smirk I want to wipe off his face. He may not work for Colton, but being my best friend, he came to see me at work today, and he most probably saw the kiss. When I got back to the garage with the car, he didn’t say anything, but the grin on his face told me everything.
“Nothing is going on.” Even as I say it, I know it’s a lie because I can’t get her out of my head. “She’s headstrong, feisty, and she hates me.”
“You know, hate and love are the same emotion. They bring about the same endorphins. She’s probably just looking at it the wrong way.”
“She’s not. I can’t have her.” I don’t look at him. I down the last of my beer before signaling the bartender for another. Curtis orders his drink, and we sit in silence for a moment. “Mixing business with pleasure has always been against the rules for me.”
“I know. But there are times you can make an exception. Right now would be one of those times.” Our drinks arrive while I consider his words. Can I make an exception to have her in my life? “Look, I’m not saying this is marriage and all that rainbows and rings, but she’s hot, perhaps even good to have for the night, and when you fuck her out of your system, you’ll feel better.”
A group of girls walks into the bar, and the noise catches my attention. I glance over my shoulder, ignoring Curtis, who’s watching me intently, and find the girl in question who’s wearing a too-tight black dress. Even though it’s not overly short, it hugs her curves like a second skin. Her curls are bouncy, hanging to the middle of her back, which has my fingers tingling to tangle in those beautiful shiny ringlets and grip them in my fist. I had a feeling she’d be here since this is the closest bar to her house.
I did my own bit of snooping, and found out she doesn’t live too far away from where the track is. Just seeing her here has my blood boiling, not with anger, but jealousy. The emotion is new to me, and I’m at war with myself. I don’t know if I like it or not.
“Fuck,” Curtis remarks, his gaze following mine, and if I didn’t want to punch him earlier, now I really do. “Now, if you can look at that and tell me you’re not interested, then you’re fucking blind.”
He’s right. If I say I’m not into her, I’d be lying. She flings her hair over her shoulder when the barman walks up to them, and I watch her order a drink. The other three girls don’t look familiar at all, and I wonder who they are. When we first met, she came across as feisty yet shy, and I didn’t peg her for a party girl.
I can feel his enquiring eyes burning a hole through me. As much as I want to hide how I’m feeling about her, I can’t. He asks, “Are you going to talk to her?”
“No,” I bite out, watching her flutter her lashes at the bastard behind the bar. Protectiveness courses through my veins and I pick up my beer, swallowing down a mouthful before I do something stupid like walking up to her and laying a fucking claim on her.
“You’re so fucking gone for this chick, man,” Curtis says with a chuckle. I turn my attention to my friend, who I’ve known for a good twelve years now. I want to tell him to go fuck himself, but I can’t. I don’t. Because I know he’s telling the truth.
That kiss did shit to me.
The feel of her mouth on mine, how her tongue darted into my mouth, the way her body feels when she’s surrendering to the emotions that spark between us, all of it races through my mind, reminding me that I’m human. I’m aching for this girl, and I care for her more than I care to admit.
The music changes as the lights are dimmed, and the dance floor opens to anyone interested. “Shape of You” by Ed Sheeran starts playing on the stereo system, coming through the speakers, and the girls race for the dancefloor positioned in the center of the room.
Haelee shocks me when she starts moving. Her body—with curves so sinful I’m tempted to taste every inch of her—sways as she dances with her friends. She’s not focused on anyone else in this room. The happiness that shines on her face is evident. There are no qualms about who’s watching her or who can judge her because she’s female. I mentally kick myself for what I did.
As the music pumps through the speakers, vibrating through my chest, and I’m sure through every inch of her luscious body, the more my mind takes a turn to the left and veers off protectiveness and toward possessiveness. Every man’s gaze lands on the girls. Their watchful, lust-filled eyes are on the woman I want.
The thought hits me right in the chest. I’ve not had such a strong reaction to a woman before. She’s exquisite. Her tanned skin, along with those full, pouty lips, lures me in as she twists and twirls. I can’t drag my gaze away from her when she sings along to the song. But then she turns my way, and her eyes widen when she realizes I’m watching her.
The corner of my mouth tilts upward, offering her a smirk of knowing as her mouth opens and closes. Shock is clear in her expression. She probably wasn’t expecting me to be here. I didn’t think I’d be out drinking today, but after our interaction, I needed to let off steam.
As the song comes to an end, I’m on my feet, moving toward her before I have time to rethink it. I can feel Curtis’s eyes on me. There’s no doubt he’s enjoying watching me.
“What the hell are you doing?” I ask as the next song starts, and the deep bass vibrates through me. I recognize the lyrics of “My Angel” by Prince Royce. Immediately, I pull her into my arms and move along with her.
“What the hell are you doing?” she mimics my question with a sly grin curling her perfect lips.
“I’m dancing with you,” I tell her nonchalantly, but I’m far from calm. My body is raging with need and fury at this beauty who’s drawn me into her orbit.
“I don’t … I can’t do this,” she tells me, but moves anyway. I twirl her around, our bodies colliding when she spins back toward me, and I’m engulfed by her perfume, which reminds me of the hot cinnamon coffee my mother used to make when I was younger.
“Why?” I hold onto her. I don’t want to let her go, but even though I know this is a bad idea, I can’t stop myself from wanting her.
“Because this isn’t how it’s supposed to go.” Her admission has me stilling all movement. Dropping my hands, I reach one out, grabbing her wrist just like I did earlier today, and pulling her toward the exit. She’s so tiny, her body moves with mine out into the balmy night with the music disappearing behind us.
We stop along the outside of the bar, and I spin on my heel to finally face her. “How is it supposed to go?” My question is laced with frustration. It feels like every time I’m around her, that emotion is prevalent in my thoughts.
“I’m not the type of girl you should be with or even consider,” she tells me after a long moment. The sadness that inflects her voice makes my body shudder with anger. What the fuck is she talking about?
“I don’t understand what you mean. How can you say that?”
“I’m not … I’m not perfect. Or beautiful like the groupies who follow racers around,” she tells me earnestly. There’s so much agony in her tone I want to wrap her in my arms and never let her go. She’s probably only about five two with curves for miles, which only makes me want her more.