Page 33 of When Sparks Fly

“I’m glad you are.” His voice is lower. I’m surprised I can hear it over the music. It doesn’t have the desired effect.

The feeling of being watched washes over me and I avert my eyes again. “Look—" My eyes find Sutton’s. He’s standing at a cocktail table near the entrance. “I’m not really looking for anything serious.”

The cowboy’s eyes blaze into mine, but he doesn’t look happy. In fact, he looks the least happy I’ve ever seen him, and that’s saying something, because his expressions are mostly indifferent.

Except for when he held the door open tonight.

Colt shifts closer. “Neither am I. Doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun. Let me take you out while you’re still here.” He reaches out with his empty hand and trails his fingers down my hip.

“No, thanks.” I jerk back.

He ignores my vicious tone, chuckling at me. “You didn’t have fun?”

“I said no.” I knock his hand away, since he isn’t getting the hint.

He swallows deeply, setting his jaw tightly. His eyes don’t waver as he stares into mine before he looks into the crowd casually. The move isn’t casual, though. It’s deliberate. An effort to keep something locked away.

For a moment, he rubs at his temple in frustration. Maybe trying to stave off a headache?

He empties what remains of his beer and slams the bottle forcefully onto the bar, saying nothing more before walking away. He may as well have had smoke pouring out his ears. It reminds me of Alan in the kitchen last week.

A heavy breath forces itself from my lungs and I lean heavily into the bar. The drink goes down in one gulp after I yank the tiny straw from it. Tawny passes and I gesture to her with the empty glass.

“You good?” A deep voice nearby startles me.

Sutton’s steely eyes are trained on me. His body mimics mine, facing the bar top itself. “Yeah, thanks.”

Tawny sets my drink down and I throw it back like a shot.

Sutton moves closer, orders a few beers from Tawny, and gestures to my glass. Then he turns to me. “Where’d your friend go?”

My eyebrows jump. Does he mean Colt or Leah? He tilts his head toward the front door in a silent answer, pressing his lips together like he’s hiding a smirk.

I purse my lips. “She’s with another friend.”

Things are already more complicated than is necessary. I throw a look over my shoulder to see if Colt is with Leah and the rest of the MC. They occupy the space around the pool tables in the main room. Leah is racking the balls. As if feeling my eyes, she looks my way.

She gives me a questioning thumbs up to check on me, but doesn’t see my responding thumbs up because her eyes shift to Sutton standing next to me. Her eyebrows raise followed by a mischievous wink. I don’t see Colt among the group.

Sutton and I reach for our drinks at the same time, our hands grazing. He’s like a human heat rock. My eyes shoot up to his face.

“You’re hot.”

His eyebrows jump before he smirks. My cheeks flame, but I don’t bother trying to correct the mishap.

Pressing the bottle to his lips, he takes a long drink and I’m curious what they feel like. I watch his Adam’s Apple bob as he drinks.

Holy shit, I think my panties just spontaneously combusted.

Well, that was unexpected.

He studies his hand. Maybe it was my hand that was cold and not the other way around? Without warning, he stands fully and offers an upturned palm to me. “Dance with me.”

It’s not a question but he waits for my agreement.

I stand and take his hand. His grip is firm, but not unpleasant. My eyes fall to our fresh drinks.

“They have more,” he says into my ear, pressing his front to my back. With our hands clasped in front of me, he leads by following. Something I’ve never experienced before.

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