Page 31 of Ignite

Rylee:Real tea can energize the brain and relax the mind at the same time.

Rylee:Better than coffee and more sustainable than beer.

Ethan:I can sustain myself drinking coffee and beer longer than I can go without food.

Rylee:Typical.

Ethan:Typical what?

Rylee:Footballer.

I didn’t think she meant it as a compliment.

I felt pumped at heading north to Beringi for a change of scenery.

I had money in my pocket, a hotel room for a couple of nights and no reason to be awake on Sunday morning until it was afternoon.

Ready for a great night, my life came to a fucking stop and I remembered my missing tattoo,FML.

Because out of all the bars in the world, I strode into hers.

Ophelia Rylee Mettner stood in a circle of other twenty-something women. Dressed to kill in a red plaid mini-skirt, long black killer boots, and a white shirt tied at her midriff. A modern-day heroine in an old-world bar.

I’d never seen her dressed to set the world and hearts on fire.

I mean, she’d looked hot enough to melt asphalt the day of the accident. Even the baggy overalls she wore in her garage couldn’t hide her curves. At the gym, she dressed for comfort and workout—not for attracting attention.

Usually, she wore her hair up and face naturally free from makeup. Tonight, her hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders. All the better to flick and toss. From across the room, I could see her eyes framed behind charcoals and false lashes.

Dressed to impress. Dressed to kill.

And her full lips were ready to either be wrapped around my newly formed bulge, or be kissed until they were bruised red and not just stained.

Torn between getting the hell out of the bar and finding one where nobody knew my name; or watching her from the hidden safety of the other side of the room, I decided to stay. Perhaps, the more I watched, the less reason I’d have to be interested.

Grateful I’d worn my pussy-pleasing outfit that had never let me down of a navy short-sleeved shirt and black fitted jeans, I found a dark spot in the corner behind the pool tables. I tried to convince myself it was the perfect vantage point to watch a bar-room full of single ladies. After all, I was single and it was Saturday night. I had every right to check them all out.

All of them. Not just Rylee.

The girls with Rylee didn’t take long to attract attention. Keeping a low profile on the other side of the packed room, I ordered and ate a pizza. Knocking back offers of drinks from women who wanted to know more than my name, I alternated between beer and soda while watching Rylee play mother hen to her friends. She drank less than the others and seemed to make sure each one knew what she was doing before they were picked off by men.

But before each woman left, they shared a strange hug with Rylee. No, it wasn’t just a hug, but a strong embrace. They’d whisper something in her ear, press foreheads together, hug her again before leaving.

Was she missing her ex? And what sort of friends would go out on a Saturday night and leave one of them alone? What if something happened?

At least I had a genuine excuse to enjoy another beer and keep an eye out for trouble.

Rylee moved around the round high table until she could see the sports screen over the bar and the front door. I was over to her right and if she turned even slightly, she’d see me and I’d have to decide whether to approach or keep enjoying my own company.

I remembered the same finger tapping from when I annoyed her back at her workshop. The smile hadn’t reached her eyes since her last friend left.

She had a full drink and a bar full of men waiting for their chance.

Did I feel like a stalker? No. More that I felt curious about how she handled the situation.

And I couldn’t stop looking at her even if I tried. Rylee had to be the hottest woman in town. She had the smarts and the sass that blew my mind. The perfect package, which only raised the stakes. Falling for the perfect woman would only get complicated and end up with a broken heart—mine.

I started tapping out a message, but deleted it. What could I say? That I’d been standing behind her for the last couple of hours and now she seemed alone, did she want company? Any message I drafted seemed pathetic and better deleted before I drank another beer and did something stupid.

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