Page 10 of Forbidden Lyrics

Gibson shifts his weight, sandwiching himself between me and the woman who wants to strangle me until all I can see is the black fabric of his T-shirt stretched along his muscled back.

“I am taking care of this shit,” Gibbs informs her. “Now, get out of this bar.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” she screeches. “It’s that bitch’s fault, and you’re blaming me? I’ve done nothing wrong. If anything, you should be thanking me for putting her in her place. It’s not like she has a chance with someone like you.” The bouncers from the front flank Gibson’s sides as his spine straightens. Although, I’m not sure if it’s because of the fact that she pointed out I was stalking him at work or if it’s because there are way too many people invested in this confrontation right now. Regardless, this is bad news, and it’s all my fault.

“What’s your address?” I ask, shifting my weight from one foot to the other in hopes of making eye contact with her. “I’ll send you a check to get your dress cleaned or maybe a replacement,” I ramble. Anything to end this conversation as quickly as possible.

“That won’t be necessary,” Gibson growls over his shoulder.

“It’s not like you could afford a dress like this anyway,” she spits. “However, I’d love to speak to your manager––”

“Again. That won’t be necessary,” Gibson growls. “Get out of SeaBird. And don’t come back.”

“Excuse me? Who the hell––”

Gibbs steps closer to her, causing the argument to die on her lips. I can feel the tension in his muscles. The silent suggestion to choose her next words carefully, or she might regret it. The underlying tension is a stark reminder that I don’t know Gibson. Not really. But I do appreciate his help.

Lifting her chin, Barbie squeezes her sparkly black clutch in her hand, turns on her heel, and marches toward the exit. My pulse is racing as I watch her disappear out the front door. But even after she’s gone, I feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest. Like I can’t breathe. Like I’m on the verge of a panic attack.

I’m embarrassed. On edge. Confused. And so many other emotions that I feel like I might be sick. I can’t believe I’m such an idiot. I might get fired for this. And now, Gibson knows I was staring at him and was being a total creeper. Heck, now the entire bar knows I was staring at him and being a total creeper. I want to cry. I want to run away. I want to curl into a ball and disappear.

But I can’t.

I need this job. I need it for my sister. I need it to pay the bills. I need it for my own sanity.

My eyelids flutter as I attempt to get a handle on my anxiety when Gibson turns around and faces me.

“You okay?” he murmurs.

I force myself to nod.

“You sure?”

Another nod, though my gaze stays firmly on the ground, glazed over and unfocused.

“Hey.” He lifts my chin, forcing me to look in his hazel eyes framed with dark lashes that any girl would kill for. “You okay?”

I swallow thickly. “Y-yes.”

“You sure?” he repeats.

I nod and lie, “I’m fine.”

“Go take a break––”

“I just got here.”

“And I don’t give a shit. Go take a break.”

I shake my head. “If I take a break, I’ll have a breakdown, and I’d like to hold that off until I get home. I’m fine, Gibbs. Promise.”

His usually cool gaze is sharp but warm as it bounces around my face, assessing me carefully. “I’ll be at the bar.” His warm fingertips disappear from my chin, and he drops his hand to his side. “If you need anything––”

“Find Ashton. I know.”

“Come get me. Understand?”

My breath catches in my lungs as I peek up at him. He never wants me to get him. I either deal with Sammie, the other bartender, or talk with Ashton, my manager. But coming to Gibson? That’s always been a no-go.

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