Page 1 of Dancing in the Rain

Chapter 1

Drew turned disbelieving eyes on the man who’d just spoken so crudely to the woman seated next to him at the bar. Did he really just ask her if she’d ever fucked a real man?

“Uh…” She glanced nervously at Drew.

“Does that line really work for you, asshole?” Drew asked him. “Pretty sure a ‘real man’ wouldn’t use it.”

“Fuck off, asshole,” the guy said. “She’s talking to me.”

“No, she’s not. She’s with me.”

She wasn’t, but this jerkwad didn’t need to know that.

“Come on, bitch. I’ll show you a real man. Not a pansy-ass hockey player with a bum knee.”

Greeeaat. The fucker knew who he was. “Okay.” Drew stood, drawing himself up to his full six-foot-three height. “You can fuck right off. Now.”

The dude shot him a dirty look but moved away.

The woman gave an uncomfortable laugh. “Whoa. Thanks.”

He hadn’t really been talking to her, just sitting beside her at the bar. “What a dickhead.” Drew followed the guy’s movements with narrowed eyes, watching him stop next to another woman.

“Are you really a hockey player?”

“No.” He picked up his beer and drained it, then signaled the bartender for another one. He’d lost count of how many he’d had tonight.

“I’m Savannah.” She held out a hand.

Drew took in her blond hair, spidery eyelashes, and high-maintenance manicure with her nails painted red and black in what looked like butterfly wings. She reminded him of his ex-wife.

“Drew,” he said, shaking her hand.

“It’s so nice to meet a gentleman.” Her shiny pink lips curved up.

“I’m not really a gentleman.” He attempted a smile.

“Well, you rescued me, so I think you are.”

Drew watched as Dickwad returned, this time with another guy. Their eyes focused on Savannah with undisguised lechery. Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Annoyance burned in his chest. Along with the alcohol he’d consumed, the driving rhythm of the music in the bar, and the frustration he’d kept pent up for months, a wild, reckless feeling buzzed through him.

He was already pissed at the world. Apparently it didn’t take much to make him bloodthirsty. And hell, a woman should be able to tell a guy to get lost without being harassed. He didn’t even know her, yet he somehow felt responsible. So when Dickwad slid a hand around Savannah’s upper arm and said, “Let’s dance,” Drew was on his feet in an instant.

“Seriously, dude?” he said to the guy. “Are you fucking hammered? Let go of her.”

“We’re going to dance.”

Savannah was trying to pull her arm out of his grip.

“No, you’re fucking not.” And Drew lunged at him.

Savannah squealed as Drew landed a right cross on the guy’s jaw. With a roar, the other man fought back.

Rage rose inside Drew in a burst of heat. He threw a flurry of punches, felt a crunch of bone, and had the asshole over the bar and helpless in minutes.

Bouncers pounced on Drew and dragged him off the guy. Blood dripped from Drew’s eyebrow and he swiped it away with the back of his hand, his chest heaving.

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