Page 50 of The Thing About My Rival

He shuffles off toward the women who’re holding the door open for him.

And now I’m almost alone in a pub with Hugo freaking Powers.

Thank God Garrett’s still here.

“Drew,” Garrett calls as he lifts the flap in the bar and walks out. “We’re closing early tonight, remember?”

Hallelujah. There’s a gift I can grab with both hands.

“Oh, I completely forgot.” I get to my feet and look at Hugo. “Guess you’ll have to go.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Garrett says, following Winston toward the door. “You and your friend can stay.”

No, no,no. That’s absolutely the opposite of what I meant. “I’m sure Hugo needs to leave. It’s been a long and, well, trying day.”

“Exactly why I need this.” Hugo rests his elbows on the table, which somehow makes his shoulders appear extra broad, and holds his drink up to me. “I can stay to finish it, right?”

That smirk, or grin, or whatever the hell it is, is a fatal combination along with the flirtatious, pleading sparkle in his eyes.

I glance over at Garrett, my final hope of someone to rescue me from Hugo’s magnetic force.

But he’s busy. He bolts and locks the door behind the Oldies, pulls down the blinds over the door and windows, and flips off all the overhead lights, leaving on just the ones above the pictures on the walls and the low green one illuminating the shelves behind the bar.

On his way back through, he drops the keys beside me on the table. “Be sure to lock up when he leaves.” He looks from me to Hugo. “Have a good rest of your night.”

And with a smile that suggests he thinks we’re more than friends and he’s doing us a favor, he heads behind the bar, drops the flap behind him, and disappears out the back.

Now I’m alone in a dimly lit room full of alcohol with Hugo freaking Powers.

And we all know how that ended last time.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

HUGO

And here I am. Alone with Wilcox.

When I walked into the pub and saw the woman with the bright blond hair trying to get my attention, my heart sank. Thought I’d been instantly rumbled.

And I had, but in a totally different way than I’d assumed.

When I realized she was pointing at Wilcox, I got this weird feeling. Something like relief, but not that. Something like my spirits lifting, but not that either. Something like when you think you have nothing in for dinner, but you open the fridge and discover delicious leftover Chinese takeout that you’d forgotten about—a bit like that.

Anyway, some undefinable thing went on inside me when I saw her. And I have to confess, I’m not exactly sad about it.

Still standing, Wilcox’s eyes dart around the room, like a spooked animal in search of an escape route.

“All right, well.” She drums her fingers on the table. “Now that everyone’s gone, we should leave too.”

It’s wrong. I know it’s wrong. But I can’t resist. I want this time alone with her. Need it. So I rest my hand on top of hers, gently pinning it to the table. “Stay.”

She stares at my hand on hers for a second. Then her gaze roves up my arm, across my shoulder to my neck, then my chin, my mouth, my nose, until her eyes come to rest on mine.

Being eaten alive by those green diamonds sparks a flutter in my chest. And it only intensifies at the sight of her sweatshirt quivering as it rises and falls heavily over those beautiful breasts. Does that mean she has an inner tremble too?

If this were any other woman, I would grab her and kiss her right now, while hoping to get a whole lot further.

But this is Wilcox.

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