Page 19 of Made Over by Meredith

“Yeah.” I folded my arms over my chest and shifted away from him.

In turn, he wedged himself between me and one-half of the older couple next to me, settling his hand on the back of my stool, his forearm on the bar. “How’s that working out for you?”

“Fine, until you showed up. You’re supposed to be confessing your undying love with your girl or whatever.”

“Why’d you say it with a sneer?”

“I’m not sneering.”

“A little bit,” he said, full-out smiling now, and I hated him.

“I don’t sneer.”

“You do, apparently.” Then he nodded at Atlas when he handed him the check.

“He finally showed up,” Atlas stage-whispered to me, like we were in on a secret. “Little too late, don’t you think?”

Aiden tossed a credit card down, paying my bill, and I was between a rock and a hard place. Or, rather, a hot bartender with the weight of the world on his shoulders and a hot nerd pulling an alpha move.

What was a girl to do?

“I’m not late,” Aiden said, to no one in particular, though he did ease closer to me. “I wasn’t even supposed to be here.”

“Exactly.” I flicked my fingers toward the windows. “You should be with your girl.”

Aiden rolled his eyes behind his glasses and Atlas slipped his credit card from the bar top, his lips pursed at the drama.

“Why’re you drinking by yourself?” Aiden asked me, the fingers at my back, sifting through the ends of my hair.

“Can’t a girl go out on her own? Jesus.”

“Sure, but I know how you can get.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” I grumbled, to which he bent, his mouth near my ear.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

Before I could even recover from my full-body shudder, Atlas returned with the receipts that Aiden signed with a flourish before helping me stand with a hand at my elbow like I was some weak damsel. I had the equivalent of three water-downed drinks in a little over an hour. I was fine.

Until Atlas winked at me again, and Aiden let out a grumbly sound from his throat. “What’s that guy’s issue? He should get his eyes checked since he keeps blinking.”

“He’s winking at me.” I tossed my purse over my shoulder with all the dignity I could muster. “Flirting with me.”

“Ah.” Aiden slipped his hand to my lower back. “Thought maybe it was a stroke.”

I back-handed his chest and absolutely refused to give in to a smile.

Once we made our way through the exit, I stepped out of his hold. “What’syourissue? Why are you here?”

“Because you said you were getting drunk, and, like I said, I know how you get.”

I challenged him, raising my chin, arching my brows.

“You get loud,” he said, as if loud wasn’t my starting volume. “And occasionally take your clothes off.”

“I do not take my clothes off.”

“Two summers ago, at the farm, you?—”

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