Page 9 of Tangled

Suddenly, Jon Bon Jovi’s ‘You Give Love a Bad Name’ blares overhead through the speakers, igniting a fire in my body as I bounce and sway to the music on my stool. Man, I love this song! And as I listen to the words, I can’t help but laugh and think of Trevor and his stupid ass and how he’s made me question falling in love again for averylong time.

Instead, I shove him out of my brain and all of his missed calls and pathetic text messages he’s sent this week asking for me back, swearing that he’s sorry and that he can’t lose me. Too late for that buddy. I’m done. Fool me once, shame on you, and you’ll never get the chance to fool me again.

I shove out the long to-do list lying on my kitchen counter in my new apartment, filled with boxes and suitcases thrown in every corner. I shove out the monumental task I have ahead of me on Monday of entering a new classroom with students I’ve never met and a month’s worth of curriculum to catch up on.

Closing my eyes, I lose myself in the song, mouthing the words with a little too much animation, but whatever. I truly don’t care what people might think. I just want to get lost in the words, shut out the distractions, and finish the song with no interruptions. I need to let loose, have some fun, and feel human again.

“You know people can see you, right?”

The rasp of the voice behind me sparks instant fury in my veins as my eyes pop open and I prepare to give this person a piece of my mind. I become keenly aware that someone thought it was so important to judge me that they interrupted my performance and interrupted my jam—and now thanks to the third and fourth tequila shot, I’m more than irritated.

“Listen buddy,” I start to turn and give this guy a few choice words not suitable around the young children I teach every day—but as his face comes into view, I forget the anger and irritation I just felt as it’s replaced with pure lust.

A wave of heat spreads over my entire body from my chest, where my heart is beating as fast as an elephant stampede, down to the tips of my toes.

Holy shit! Where have men like this been hiding?

Apparently in Emerson Falls, Oregon.

I swallow hard and then narrow my eyes back at him.

Focus, Olivia. This guy just interrupted Bon Jovi. Let him have it!

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I don’t care that people can see me. When Jon Bon Jovi sings, you dance, and you don’t interrupt. This song is a classic,” I lift my eyebrow at him in a challenge.

The man who was so eager to care about what I look like now has no words. He just stands there and stares, his jet black hair stuck up in that messy yet perfectly styled way, and his matching short beard frames his long face and perfect lips. His narrow eyes size me up as I lock my gaze with him intently, not blinking so he knows I’m up for a dispute. His dark brown orbs with flecks of gold flicker back and forth between my hazel eyes as we study each other.

I feel my heartbeat pick up rapidly again, hammering against my rib cage as I sit up taller to protect myself, hoping he can’t see the effect he’s having on me. My vagina clenches when his lips curl up on one side in a crooked grin, and that’s when I surrender to the fact that this man is hot.

Not just nice to look at, but dangerous to your heart and mind kind of hot, full of the potential to shatter you into fragments of the person you were before him. Who knows what you’ll look like after.

“You know, I’d have to agree with you,” he says surprisingly, making me sit back in shock and confusion, even though I fight hard to hide that from my face. I really thought this guy was about to fight me on this.

“Glad we see eye-to-eye then,” I say smugly, turning back around to grab my drink before realizing my beer is empty.

“Shit,” I mumble before sitting up taller to get the attention of the bartender.

“Here. Let me buy you a drink so then you can tell me just how many other songs shouldn’t be interrupted,” he teases before lifting his hand in the air and signaling the older man behind the bar who I can only assume is the owner.

“I can buy my own drink,” I argue as he takes a seat at one of the empty stools at our table. I glance around him quickly to check for my friends, wondering what’s taking so long in the bathroom. Amy must really be sick.

“Expecting your friends back?” He asks, lifting his beer to his lips as I watch them curl around the rim of his glass.

Jesus, why do men always get the best lips? The ones that women pay good money for? I wonder what he can do with that mouth…

“Yes, and they’re very protective of me. I don’t know if you have what it takes to take them on too,” I shrug as the waitress sets down my beer. “Thank you,” I kindly say in her direction before turning my daggered eyes back to the man who intrigues me more than he should.

“Are we about to fight? Because I really don’t want to get my ass kicked by four women. That wouldn’t bode well for my reputation, Red,” he smirks as he calls me by a nickname I’ve heard one-to-many times.

“And what reputation is that?”

“How about we save that for the get-to-know-you portion of the evening?” He questions just as Perry, Clara, and Amy come staggering back to the table.

“I didn’t realize we were going to get to know each other…”

He chuckles. “Oh, I think we’re about to get to know each otherverywell.”

Chapter 5

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