Page 57 of Take Me Home

“Someone in particular?” Travis cut in.

“Anyone we went to school with.” Silently, he willed her to take the out. “Mr. Newton, shirtless.”

Travis and Derek exchanged perplexed looks.

Hazel lifted her chin, eyes flaring. “I’m a big girl,” she said, then spun on her heel and charged forth.

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The bar was crowded and stuffy. With all its dark wood, green wallpaper, and a constant soundtrack of Dropkick Murphys and Flogging Molly, it was a typical Irish pub, except for the back wall dedicated to West Texas taxidermy—a handful of bucks, two pheasants in flight, a vicious-looking javelina, a set of longhorns, and a mounted squirrel—all adorned with Santa hats and white twinkle lights. While they waited for their drinks, Ash shouted over the noise that the pheasants reminded him of the Lovebird Suite.

“Hmm?” Hazel’s gaze flitted to him distractedly from Derek Cline, who was rubbing the cuff of her sage-green sweater between two fingers and using the crowded bar as an excuse to move in closer.

“I like this color,” Derek said, plucking at her sleeve. “I just realized it matches your eyes, too.”

Christ. Ash was in hell.

“Wow. This is smooth. Are you seeing this, Asher?” Hazel asked.

Derek released her sweater, raising his palms and turning to Ash. “Sorry. Are you two a thing?”

She arched an eyebrow at Ash, a challenge in her eyes. Maybe she was annoyed that he’d called her out for worrying about seeing people she used to know in front of them. Or did she want him to stake a claim?Just try. I dare you.As enlightened as he liked to think he was—raised by sisters, privy to their complaints about guys, sometimes even a target for their lectures on toxic male behavior—the desire to wedge himself between Hazel and Derek, to wrap his arm possessively around her waist, to say,Keep your hands off her,was a primal vibration in his bones.

“Seems like a question for her,” Ash finally said.

She looked impressed by the side step and told Derek, “Save your lines. Maybe for those ladies over there.” She nodded to a group that had just walked in.

Because she was into Ash, or because shewasn’tinto Derek? He saw the same question pass over Derek’s face. It hung there, unanswered by Hazel, until the bartender set their drinks on the bar.

Travis thumped Ash’s back in a way that felt consoling and directed the group to a spot between a boisterous table of men and a group playing pool.

Soon, Ash was three drinks in, literally backed into a corner, ducking the occasional jab of pool cues from the table they were vulturing, and sulking while the Cline brothers regaled Hazel with a story about running their dad’s tractor into a ditch. Justover a year apart, Travis and Derek had no shortage of such stories. While Travis primarily contributed a droll punch line here and there, Derek knew how to spin a yarn and loved to be the center of attention. To Ash’s annoyance, Hazel was riveted.

“Wait, why were you naked?” she wanted to know.

Derek waggled his eyebrows. “That, sweetheart, is a whole different story.”

“Jesus Christ.” Ash tipped the last of his beer into his mouth.

Just then, the rowdy men to Ash’s right abandoned their table. He snagged the round two-top and indicated for Hazel to take one of the stools underneath. She hitched up one hip to perch on it, but the stool teetered. On instinct, he reached out. He meant only to keep her from toppling over, but now, as her eyes darted down to where his hand gripped the front edge of the small seat, he realized he’d grabbed it directly between her thighs, the soft denim of her jeans brushing against his wrist.

She straightened, bumping her back into the table, thighs closing around his hand. Why was he still holding the stool?

“You drunk already, Hazel?” He aimed for a teasing tone, but his voice came out low and hoarse.

“It’s off-balance.” He barely heard her over the music, all breathy and flustered, her cheeks and neck awash in a pretty pink blush.

“Here.” He tugged the stool out from the table to give her more room. Her eyes snapped to his in surprise. His hand wasstillbetween her thighs. The stool rocked onto its shorter leg again, and her hand shot out to clutch his forearm.

A whole montage of untimely, intrusive images played before his eyes.

He dropped down to shove a wad of napkins under the short leg, and while he was there, Ash thought of taxidermy, snow down the back of his shirt, one of the Cline brothers belchingloudly somewhere above the table. When he finally rose back up, she looked dazed, and he wondered if she was struggling like he was. “Better?”

She crossed her legs. “What? Yep. Yes.”

Mercifully, Travis and Derek had missed the entire exchange. Hazel tugged her hair down over one shoulder, and her mouth twitched into a little smile that rocketed through his veins. Then, she pressed the smile away and yelled over the noise, “These dudes are never giving up their table.” She meant the four guys occupying the pool table, who had just started another round.

Travis nodded toward the back wall. “Dartboard just opened up.”

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