Page 7 of His Secret Obsession

I mean, the fucking audacity.

Making my decision, I scoot my chair back so hard it screeches on the sticky barroom floor. The table around me grows quiet as my friends shoot me quizzical looks, but I ignore them and march towards the handsy woman. This place is so crowded tonight that I have to constantly slip between and around people, and I even jump to the side once when a man nearly steps on my toes. But I finally make my way to the bar, straining to hear their conversation over the sound of honky-tonk music playing directly overhead.

“Maybe I should let you buy me a drink,” she purrs. “What do you say, big guy?”

I roll my eyes before clearing my throat.

Both heads swing around to look at me. Her eyes narrow in irritation while the man’s eyes go round, looking momentarily shocked. I’m not sure what about my sudden appearance is shocking, but I mentally shrug it off. I lean into my role, giving him an easy smile.

“Hey, honey. Sorry I’m late,” I croon. He’s frozen in his seat, blinking at me with wide eyes. My palms grow sweaty as I watch the indecision flicker across his face. Then, to my utter shock and delight, he plays along.

“It’s not polite to keep a man waiting so long, sweetheart.” His voice comes out in a low, deep rumble but I can still hear the tease in his tone. It makes my toes curl in my boots. A smile stretches across my face, and I’m surprised that I don’t even have to fake it. There’s something about his voice and the way he’s looking at me, like he can’t wait to see what I do next. Like he wants to play, despite his best intentions to remain stoic. It sends a giddy thrill through me.

It bolsters my confidence, giving me an extra boost of courage. I lean across the woman like she’s not even there, grab the man’s beer, and take a sip. The woman huffs before eyeing me up and down.

His emerald eyes are lit up now, and he’s pursing his lips like he’s trying not to laugh. Crossing his arms, he arches an eyebrow at me and it sends a swarm of butterflies through my stomach. I blink once before dragging my gaze over to the woman.

“Thank you for keeping him company, but he’s busy now.”

“Excuse me?” The woman crosses her arms, giving me an incredulous expression.

“I can take it from here.”

She looks back and forth between us, her eyes narrowing.

“Are you guys even together?” she asks. “Because if you’re just trying to swoop in and—”

I glare at her then, not holding back an ounce of the crackling-hot irritation inside me. Because it feels surprisingly good, and it makes me feel so much more alive than the grief I’ve been holding onto. Taking a few steps forward, I crowd her space the way she’s been crowding his and stare down my nose at her.

“The gentleman already has company. He isn’t interested in yours.” There’s murmuring around us as heads swing our way. Her cheeks turn a crimson red, her lips twisting down.

“What a fucking bitch.” Her fingers curl into fists as she hisses the insult through clenched teeth. Shooting me one last hateful look, she storms away. There’s a quiet splattering of clapping around us as I turn back to the man.

We’re staring at each other in silence and something about his eyes on me makes my heart pound in my chest. It feels like I’ve met him before—like maybe he’s someone I’ve been looking for. I shake my head, because that can’t be right. I peer down at the cold beer in my hand, the condensation cool on my skin. A flush spreads over my cheeks, and I grimace.

Maybe that was a little dramatic.

“Shit. Right. Sorry about that.” I slide his beer back across the bar. “I’m going to…” I point behind me, toward my friends. “Go back to my table and leave you alone.” He doesn’t reply; he just keeps staring at me in that intense way of his while I pivot on my feet and head back to my own table.

The man obviously wants to drink in peace, and I went over there and called attention to him. I’m just as bad as that woman—

“Do you always do that?” he asks, my heart tripping over itself as I come to a halt.

I peer over my shoulder, my eyebrows slanting down. “Do what?”

He tips his head at me, a light smile playing around his mouth. “Swoop in, save the day, and then float off like nothing happened?”

I turn to face him fully now, a light laugh bubbling out of my throat. Something like relief settles in my stomach. Sliding over so I’m just a little bit closer, I lean my elbow on the bar and give him a casual shrug. My nostrils flare as I get a whiff of Old Spice body wash, the crisp scent making me want to lean in closer.

“I wouldn’t know. It’s not every day I rescue a…mansel in distress,” I reply, giving him a mischievous grin. Surprise lights across his face for a fraction of a second before he bursts out laughing, his head thrown back. My gaze immediately dips down to study the column of his neck while my ears drink in the sound of his guffawing laughter. It sounds rusty, and it makes me wonder if maybe he doesn’t laugh often. There’s a twinkle in his eyes when he looks back at me. It makes me feel like I’m floating.

“Mansel? Is that a play on damsel?”

“Yeah,” I say, dropping my voice into a stage-whisper. “Don’t tell Webster’s Dictionary, but I just made it up on the spot.” When his eyes dart down to my lips, a scattering of goosebumps pop up along my arms.

“You’re a mouthy little menace, aren’t you?” he asks. His voice is deadpan, but he’s gifting me with another dazzling grin. “You might as well join me since you’ve already staked your claim,” he says, shooting me a wink. He pulls out the stool right next to him, tugging it back until it’s almost nestled right against his thigh. Then he motions to the seat with an expectant look. I bite my lip.

“Well? Are you going to make me beg?”

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