Page 71 of Indigo Sky

The irony in that statement wasn’t lost on me. I mean, the very reason I was there was because I, too, was paranoid. But not in the way Saul was.

“Sorry if Indie’s track record isn’t the best,” he grumbled, standing his ground.

“Watch it—“

“Hey! We’re still waiting here!” a guy a few heads down shouted.

“And you’re gonna wait a little longer!” Saul shouted back, never taking his glare off of me. “Seriously, Revan, what are you doing here?”

I didn’t like the interrogation. I didn’t like the suspicion. But I couldn’t fault him entirely when we were still in uncharted territory—at work, with Kate, and with whatever the hell might be going on here.

“I came to walk Indie to her car,” I said, unsure if he knew about what had happened the night before.

But that was all it took for acceptance to smooth the lines on his face. He unclipped the velvet rope and held an arm across the next guy in line, blocking him from slipping through.

“All right,” Saul said with a single nod.

I didn’t say another word to him. I passed quickly and into the thumping club. It was two hours into showtime. Ivy was onstage, spinning around the pole and working her hips to the tune of a Nine Inch Nails song.

Standing there in my street clothes, somewhere between the entrance and the bar, landed me in a mix of déjà vu and familiarity. I remembered that first night years ago, when I’d bumped into the woman who was nothing more than a stranger to me then. A woman who would give me my first sexual encounter and kiss, only to become the first woman to stir genuine emotion in my heart nearly a decade after.

I looked for her now, turning my head to sweep my gaze over the dark room. I didn’t immediately see her, so I headed to the bar, where Scott was slinging drinks.

He looked surprised to see me. “Yo, dude, what are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d come by and see Indie,” I said, not wanting him to feel bad or self-conscious about how he’d handled things last night.

Scott gave me a knowing look and waggled his brows. “So, things are going well in that department, I take it?”

“They are,” I replied, remembering that odd expression she’d given me at the diner. Like she hadn’t known whether she should stay or run for the fucking hills.

“That’s awesome, man. Crystal’s got a guy now, Indie’s got you …” He nodded approvingly. “Those girls deserve to be happy.”

I forced a smile and asked, “Have you seen her around? Indie, I mean.”

He looked off toward the stage, sweeping his gaze around the club, the way I just had. He seemed confused at first, then nudged his chin in the direction of the private rooms.

“There she is,” he said. “Just came out from the back.”

My entire body felt instantly hot at the thought of her giving a private dance to someone else, and I scolded myself before jealous rage could make itself at home. This was her job, and I didn’t own her. She wasn’tmine. Fuck, I wanted her to be. Maybe one day, she could be, but even then, what right would I have to tell her what she could or couldn’t do to make a living?

Everything my mom had said weeks ago came rushing back. All those concerns about envy and possessiveness.

No, I thought.I’m an adult. She’s an adult. Just stop this and stop it now.

“You good?”

Scott’s voice sliced through the flood of negative thoughts clouding my mind. I glanced at him and nodded.

“Yeah, all good. Thanks, man.”

I moved my way carefully through the club until I was within her line of sight. She stopped in her tracks, her lips falling open just as a guy about my age came up from behind her. He made a show of adjusting himself in his jeans, and a table of guys behind me whooped and crowed. The blood in my veins had just begun to cool, but it was boiling now that I could put a face to the man she’d been alone with. I had no right—I knew that. No right at all to feel territorial, protective, and so fucking possessive that I could hardly see straight. She wasn’t mine, dammit—but maybe that was exactly what bothered me. Maybe it was that we’d been seeing each other for weeks, we knew there was an attraction here, but we’d never made the decision to commit. To be exclusive. Tobelongto each other.

The guy took a chance and slapped her ass as he passed, and I saw red. She didn’t seem fazed in the slightest—she’d barely jolted at the abrupt contact—but I couldn’t be so cool. Just as he was about to brush past me on his way back to his table, I snatched his wrist in my hand.

“Hey, man, what—"

“Show some respect,” I sneered. “Apologize to her.”

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