When I slowly turn to look at him and see his flirty smile and slightly unfocused gaze from one too many beers, I blow out a slow breath and shake my head. Then I’m letting out a little laugh, realizing how I overreacted to his comment.
“Look, I’m not—” My rebuke of his flirting is interruptedby a large hand clapping onto his shoulder. The man and I both turn to find a set of familiar eyes locked on me. They take my breath away.
“Time to go, buddy. She’s not interested.”
The man scoffs. “You don’t know that.”
Jack finally breaks his gaze from mine to glare at the man next to me. The man winces as Jack’s grip tightens. “Move. You’re in my seat.”
Through gritted teeth, the man spits out a terse, “Fine.”
Jack releases his hold and steps behind my barstool, allowing the man to scoot his out. His hand grazes across my back. A chill, not caused by fear this time, moves through me at the sensation. His spicy cologne fills my nostrils, arousing me way more than it should.
Maybe it’s the wine.
Once the man moves farther down the bar, Jack takes his seat. He keeps his eyes straight ahead as the bartender approaches us, handing him a menu. “I don’t need it. I know what I want. Just a burger and fries and whatever IPA you have on draft. And anything the lady wants.”
The bartender looks in my direction to ask, “Another Chardonnay?”
“Sure, thank you.”
With that, the bartender leaves us.
Unsure of how to act after how disastrous our last encounter was, I make a lame attempt at a joke to lighten the ferocity in which he scared off the man. “What if I wanted to talk to that guy?”
Jack leans back in his seat and crosses his arms. I can’t help but notice how his biceps bulge with the action, accentuating his tattoos. He’s dressed in dark jeans and a short-sleeved t-shirt with his company’s logo on his pec. “Yeah,that look of terror on your face told me you were really into whatever lame-ass pickup line he was laying on you.”
My cheeks heat with embarrassment that he witnessed my misplaced fear. “I, uh, misunderstood him. I thought he said something else.” I sigh as I flop back in my seat. “But I wasn’t interested. So thank you.”
He doesn’t respond.
The bartender returns with our drinks. The contentment I feel at his nearness has my stomach fluttering with disappointment at the thought I might have blown my chance with him. I pick up my wineglass before looking Jack’s way. He’s watching me again as he swallows a sip of beer. My core clenches as he licks a drop of beer from his lip.
To avoid any further awkwardness, if only for me, I feel it’s necessary to address what happened as I fidget in my seat. “Jack, I want to say I’m sorry for the other night.”
Jack leans forward and places his elbows on the bar. He toys with his glass with one hand as the other clenches into a fist. “You don’t need to apologize, Gisella. I’m sorry if I did something to upset you.”
Guilt makes my stomach sink. I grip his bicep, reveling in how solid it feels under my hand. “It wasn’t you at all. I’ve had a lot on my mind, and it got to me the other night.”
He turns his head slightly, staring at where my hand is on his arm. I start to pull my hand away when he shifts, and his other hand lands on top of mine, holding me to him. Our eyes meet. The evident desire there makes my breath catch all over again.
My lips part, and on reflex, my tongue darts out to wet them. His eyes drop to track the action. After a beat, he clears his throat, releases his hand, and sits back.
I do the same, leaning back. To cut the sexual tension to a tolerable amount, I joke, “I’d ask if you tracked the G-Wagon to know I was here, but I didn’t drive.”
His deep chuckle does little to decrease my attraction to him. “No, my walking in here was strictly by chance.”
11
Jack
45 minutes earlier
Ian steps up beside me. “This event is boring as shit.”
I look around the venue. About fifty people are milling about, not one of them paying attention to the band playing in the corner. Normally, Ian and I wouldn’t work an event like this. We would put some of the less experienced guys on it. But this was a last-minute addition to the schedule, and we didn’t have enough people to cover them all. I pull my phone out of my pocket to check the time. It’s a little after eight.
“I’m going to head out. I want to get something to eat and then go the fuck to bed. You got this?”