“Okay,” Hayden said slowly. “Then why don’t you ask what’s most important to you?”
That, at least, was easy.
He glanced at Hayden. “Is she okay?”
“She’s okay. I promise. She’s adjusting to a new town. She’ll find her place. And her people.”
She walked off, leaving Miles standing in the overly warm, overly loud, crowded bar unable to hear anything but the rushing sound in his head. Unable to feel anything other than the cold clamminess on the back of his neck. The itching sensation climbing his spine.
Unable to see anything other than parts of the woman he’d sworn he was done with.
Unable to keep believing that was true.
Chapter 27
Tabitha knew the exact moment Miles started heading toward her, a determined tip to his chin and a caveman proprietary look in his eyes.
She couldn’t take her eyes off him.
It was rude, not giving her attention to the very nice, extremely good-looking lawyer sitting next to her.
But when Miles was around, she had no attention left to give.
He took it all.
Her attention. Her thoughts.
If she wasn’t careful, he’d take her willpower and pride, too.
He maneuvered through the crowd in jeans and a black and white striped T-shirt that clung to his chest and arms. His dark hair was perfectly mussed, and just the right amount of stubble covered his sharp jaw.
Lincoln, the aforementioned good-looking lawyer, touched her arm. “Everything okay?”
She blinked, her face heating. “Yes,” she said, managing not only a smile to go along with her little white lie, but also to tear her gaze off Miles and focus on Lincoln’s handsome face long enough to deliver it.
Until Miles joined them, stepping up to stand beside Lincoln, his gaze dropping to where Lincoln’s hand was still on her arm before lifting his eyes once more to her face.
“Tabitha,” he said, a cool greeting to go along with his clenched jaw and hooded gaze.
As if he’d come all the way across the room just so he could be a rude, dismissive asshole to her face.
Lucky her.
“Miles,” she said politely. “Hello. Are you enjoying your evening?”
“No.”
That was it. Short. Simple. To the point. And growled with his lips barely moving.
Then he once again lowered his gaze to the other man’s hand on her arm.
But when he lifted his eyes, it wasn’t to meet hers.
It was to meet Lincoln’s.
It was as clear of a remove your fucking hand before I remove it from your wrist look as you could get without actually having that hand cut off.
It was also as close as she could get to being marked without actually being peed on.