Page 99 of Romancing the Grump
Still, I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this up. It feels like I’m walking around with a ticking time bomb inside my chest. Like a cord is coiling inside me, wrapping tighter and tighter, making me taut with tension.
The only reason I haven’t snapped so far is that I can at least pretend to be with her in public.
“She’s where?” I ask, eyes still moving over the crowd. Mulligan’s is unusually crowded tonight.
“Right there,” Gracie answers, pointing.
There’s something off about her tone, and I swivel my eyes to her. Parker is beside Gracie, and they’re wearing matching frowns, their bodies tense as they stare past me toward the bar.
“What’s going on?” I ask. “What’s happening?”
Gracie reaches out and touches my arm. “Summer is fine,” she says. “She’s been texting me.”
“Where is she?” I ask again, my voice a little firmer this time.
Gracie flinches the slightest bit, and Felix drops a warning hand on my shoulder. “She’s at the bar talking to her old boss. And I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t want you making a scene.”
I immediately turn in my chair, scanning the bar until I finally spot Summer wedged in between two bar stools, a man hovering behind her and almost entirely blocking her in.
Oh, I’m definitely making a scene. I told Summer exactly what I would do if this guy ever showed his face around her. I don’t care what she texted Gracie—if that guy is anywhere near her, she isn’t really fine.
I’m out of my seat and stalking across the bar before anyone has the chance to stop me.
I once had a school counselor tell me there were things I could do to make myself seem smaller, less imposing. Ways to soften my expression, to let people know I’m not actually contemplating ripping them limb from limb.
I do none of those things right now.
I’m two steps away when Summer looks up and spots me, and the relief on her face sends a bolt of lightning straight to my heart. She’s glad I’m here. Which means I’m right, and this guy shouldn’t be anywhere near her.
He must sense her shift in focus, because he turns, then rears back the slightest bit when he sees me.
Yeah, buddy. I have that effect on people for a reason.
The guy quickly recovers, his posture shifting in a way that feels slick and obvious, his confidence blatant enough that it can only be fake. I don’t recognize him, but I recognize the kind of man he is.
I use my left shoulder to nudge him out of my way, thenreach for Summer, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her toward me.
She comes willingly, her palms lifting to my chest as her body presses against mine.
I’m not exactly sure why I do it. But when Summer is finally in my arms, I don’t stop. I don’t say hello. I just lean down, wrap my palms around her shoulders, and kiss her.
Maybe it’s to let this guy know exactly how serious I am about keeping Summer away from him.
Maybe it’s because if I don’t channel the energy coursing through me intosomething,I actuallymightrip him limb from limb.
Maybe it’s because the coiled tension inside me has finally snapped.
I could lie to myself and say I’m only kissing her because we’re in public. Because her jerk of a boss is watching, and he needs to believe we’re together.
But right now, I’m kissing Summer because I want to—because I wantherto know she’s mine.
Her lips are warm and soft and yielding, parting the slightest bit as she kisses me back. Her hands form fists as she grips the fabric of my hoodie, then she tugs me toward her, pushing up on her tiptoes to bring us even closer. I lift a hand, sliding it up the back of her neck, cradling her jaw, her hair slipping through my fingers like silk.
Even though we’ve kissed before, all the previous kisses have been careful. Intentionally measured so they didn’t go too far, so I didn’tfeeltoo much.
But I’m not measuring anything now. And I’m feeling—everything.
It’s stupid. Reckless, even. I don’t know how to do this—and yet, I don’t know how tonot.
