Page 34 of Bossy Hero

I pull back to take her in at this distance, a perpetual grin decorating both our faces. “You look lovely, Maddie.”

She tentatively retreats a few steps, shuffling to the other side of the round table. “And you look very handsome. Congratulations on the medal.”

“Ma, I told you not to say that,” Leo chides her, his brows furrowing.

He and I share a similar viewpoint on this entire fuckingcelebration.

“What? I know it was a horrible situation, but this is still a high honor. And I’m proud of you.” She looks at me, one side of her mouth quirked. “Of both of you, actually. And my other son, wherever he may be.”

Surveying the room for his partner in crime, Leo rises to his toes, which is totally pointless since he can clearly see over everyone’s head. “Where is Sawyer?”

I direct him with a tip of my bottle. “He’s over there, chatting up a pretty blond.”

After Leo’s eyes latch on them, he groans. “No. That’s just my sister.”

“No shit. That’s Sammy? Is your brother here too?”

Maddie answers for him, recapturing all my focus. “No, Drew couldn’t come with us. Big project at work.”

“Good excuse for a girls’ trip,” I offer, raising my beer at her in another awkward gesture.

Again, I didn’t instruct my arm to do that. Beginning to think my body isn’t mine to control right now.

Leo’s posture stiffens, seemingly out of nowhere. And my gut twists in that familiar way when shit’s about to go tits up.

“Excuse me for a second,” he announces gruffly, slamming his beer down and stomping across the room.

He’s not moving toward his sister and Sawyer, so that’s not the cause of his reaction.

On instinct, I move around the table, coming closer to Madeline in a protective stance. Together, we watch Leo disappear into the crowd.

“Do you know what that was about?” I ask her, then take the last swig of my beer.

“I haven’t got a clue,” she responds, brows arched in concern.

We make small talk while she nervously fidgets with the stem of her empty wineglass.

The conversation starts to feel stilted, so I ask, “Want another drink? I can flag down a server for you.”

She shoots me a tight-lipped grin. “Would you walk me to the bar instead? I’d like to see what other wine they have.”

I offer my bent elbow, and she takes it tentatively. Her dainty hand feels damn good in the crook of my arm.

Once she’s tucked in close, she glances up at me with a sultry look in her sapphire eyes. I could swear fireworks set off in my periphery, casting her in an ethereal glow.

With pride I can barely contain, I lead her through the crowd. Once we’re at the bar, she releases me, and I instantly miss the contact.

I wave the bartender over. “Can you tell this lovely lady what wine varietals you have?”

“Oh, fancy talk, Alan,” Maddie purrs, brushing against me playfully.

The bartender rattles off a list of wines, and Maddie listens attentively. She chooses a chardonnay, and I order another beer. After tossing down a few bills, I guide her a few steps to the side to a high table in the corner.

Over the next several minutes, Maddie and I linger at the table, sipping our drinks and catching up. I attempt to ignore my looming feeling of dread and revel in my chance to be with her again. To hear her voice and see her supple skin, free of marks except for the scar from her stitches. But her makeup hides it well.

For a long time, I convinced myself that my memories of her were artificially inflated with feelings of concern or pity. Or that I was only attracted to her because I felt some compulsion to protect her. Like a reverse hero complex, I guess you could say.

But tonight puts those thoughts to bed, once and for all.

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