Page 17 of Rushing Into Love

“You’re not even staying for the end of the game?” I asked, surprised.

“Nah. It’s a runaway,” Quinn shrugged, sliding his credit card into the glass with the bill. “Drinks are on me. Thanks for the psychoanalysis.”

Macy slid the receipt into the glass and Quinn scrawled his name, then slapped me on the back. “’Night, brother. Have fun, stay safe.” He half-smiled at Bree, then was gone.

Bree let out a small sigh. “Think I scared him off.” She peered over her shoulder, towards the door where my brother had walked out.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. He likes to make a quick exit.” Which totally fit his profile, now that Bree had mentioned it. I had a newfound appreciation for “relationship experts.” She really had my brother’s number.

“How’d you do that?” I asked, trying hard not to sound awestruck. “And can I get you a refill?” I gestured to her empty glass.

“Sure, that’d be great.”

I waved to Macy, who quickly appeared and refilled Bree’s glass, sliding me a fresh beer.

“I’ve spent a lot of hours studying personality, birth order, different psychological theories and how they all play into relationship styles. Your brother is a classic male typology. Alpha male in a helping profession. That was easy.” She leaned back, her eyes twinkling with satisfaction.

Now it was my turn to squirm. I did not want to be psychoanalyzed at the The Rowdy by a cute girl from California, especially one in whom I might be interested. No thanks. I quickly changed the subject before she could turn the spotlight on me.

“Seems like you’re good at what you do. You must be in a serious relationship yourself then?” I dangled it out there, hoping for a negative.

Bree swallowed hard, crossing and uncrossing her legs under the bar. “Uh, not really,” she answered slowly, not making eye contact. “It’s complicated.” She took a sip of her wine, set it down, played with a droplet of water pooled on the bottom of the glass.

“Oh-kay,” I said, not wanting to pry, but keenly interested in knowing more.

Suddenly, the bar erupted into a fury. Peachtree Grove ended the game with a final touchdown. Lots of cheering, handclapping, and high-fiving went on all around us.

Bree smiled at me. “Good to see your Alma Mater win?” she asked, her green eyes sparkling under the bar lights.

I nodded, flattered she’d done some research.

I still had a lot of questions about her, but I didn’t really know where to start. Just then, a fairly drunk gentleman sidled up to the bar, “accidentally” bumping up against Bree. The sheer force bounced her off the stool and onto my lap. Beer spilled onto her shoulder, then down the front of her shirt.

“Oh!” She cried out, shocked, as foam trickled down onto her skin, slowly leaking down her shirt.

I reacted quickly, pulling her away from the drunk dude and closer to me, bringing her into my chest protectively. “Really, man?” I shook my head in disgust, grabbing a stack of square drink napkins off the bar and handing them to Bree.

She dabbed at her shirt, trying to discreetly pat her chest dry. The dude just stood there, leering and practically drooling. I waved my hands at him.

“Get lost, man. Move on down the bar.” He stood there for a second more, then he recognized me and beat a quick retreat.

“Sorry about that,” she said, her cheeks flushing crimson as she patted futilely at her shirt, which was now saturated and even more sheer. She inched away and I missed the feel of her body next to mine.

“Not your fault, don’t worry,” I said. “You want to get out of here? It’s getting kinda loud.”

She nodded and I signaled for the check.

We stood up and five people converged on the bar, fighting over our seats. The Rowdy had really filled in since we’d arrived. Grabbing her by the elbow, I drew her in closer to me and put my arm around her waist, leading us out of the throng of people.

Two minutes later we spilled out into the night, the air chilly after being inside the stuffy bar. Moonlight illuminated the parking lot.

“So,” I said. “That’s the Rowdy.” My ears hummed slightly from the intensity of the music.

She smiled up at me. “Thanks for the drinks, it was fun.” She shivered a little and I pulled her in closer to me, under the guise of keeping her warm. Her skin was smooth and soft.

Music from the Rowdy thumped behind us and the bar vibrated, a stark contrast to the quiet of the lot. We stood outside the bar, mere inches apart, gazing at one another. I stepped in even closer to her, our bodies brushing together. Heat shimmered between us.

Whoo-whoo-whoo! Whoo-whoo-whoo!

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