Page 62 of Until Tomorrow
Journey81: Exactly. Lol.
I faltered because while I needed to work, I did enjoy talking to him too. Eva was going out, which meant I wasn’t rushing home to anything. I stared around my desk.Who cared if I spent a little more time in the officealone or at home alone?
Journey81: So, what’re you ordering for dinner because I honestly have no idea what I want.
Chapter 35
Rhett
Therewastemptingfateand then there was being just plain fucking stupid. I teetered that line like I worked for the goddamn circus and walked the tightrope. The moment she walked in, I knew. I couldn’t tell youhowI knew, but I did. She took a seat at the back of the bar, picking a booth out of the way. With two bands playing, nights like these often meant bigger crowds. Add in specialty drinks and a theme night and things were fucking nuts.
It gave me something to focus on other than how those plump lips of hers moved with every song I sang. The intense energy in the small bar thrummed in my veins.Big smiles, bad jokes, loud laughs.I was fucking high on it all. I loved nights like this, and even her presence couldn’t take that from me.
It wasn’t until our set was over that the reality of it all set in. I wanted to talk to her—to entertain whatever stalkerish urge had brought her to my bar all over again—but I couldn’t. She was someone’s wife. Even if she wanted to make bad choices, I wouldn’t be the one she made them with.
“Your girlfriend is here.” Sam tossed an arm around my shoulder, laughing loudly. I’d been just stupid enough to tell him about what happened—the dick she’d been on a date with, me getting arrested, her husband getting the charges dropped. It was a fucking blast. “You think her husband is here too?”
“Go fuck yourself,” I grumbled.
“You think she’s here to collect her debt?” He smirked as he made an innuendo about the bail money I inevitably owed them.Fuck, I should talk to her and square away paying her back.I hated owing money to anyone. “She’ll make you work it off.”
I shoved him off as he winked.
“Go get yourself a drink, you asshole,” I said. When he was gone, I sighed and straightened my shirt. I didn’t know why I bothered. She was all strappy heels and dripping diamonds while I was in dirty work boots and old jeans. I couldn’t impress her if I fucking tried.
Sam was right, though. She was probably here for nothing more than the money her unfortunate husband forked over to bail me out and keep that loser from pressing charges.How the hell had she explained everything to her husband anyway?
That was the thought that kept me occupied as I made my way through the bar to her corner. It was better than focusing on that black dress of hers and the way it put her full tits on display.Yeah, I was going to hell.
“If you’re here to collect what I owe you, I need some time to put it together,” I said the minute I was within earshot. “That, and I need to know what the hell I owe you.”
“I don’t want your money. I want to talk to you,” she replied. “That’s all you owe me.”
What the fuck?
“I don’t think either of us has a thing to say to one another that wasn’t already said.” Okay, maybe I was being a dick, but this woman was dangerous.For me.All my stupidity came out when I was around her.
“No,youdid all the talking,” she corrected. “You said whatyouneeded to say and left. Now, I want to say my piece.”
That look she gave me told me I wasn’t getting out of it. This woman wasn’t used to hearing the word no.Ever.I could handle one conversation without doing something stupid, right?
“All right, spark plug,” I dropped into the seat across from her, “you’ve got ten minutes, and then I’m done.”
“I’ll take however many minutes I want, and I don’t accept your limitations,” she countered.Fuck, I loved how feisty she was.
“We’ll see. What did you want to say?”
“You punched a man who you believed unfairly insulted me, and then, you turned around and did exactly the same thing,” she said. I frowned.
“I did no such thing.”
“So, you weren’t insinuating that I’m a homewrecker who cheats on my husband, and you don’t believe he deserves better?”God, the point-blank thing was refreshing.I only made a sound. “For your information, Mr. Carson—”
“Rhett,” I interrupted. “No one fucking calls me Mr. Carson.”
That would’ve been a great time to ask for her name, but I didn’t. I wasn’t sure I wanted that piece of information. It’d make this whole exchange more personal.
“My husband and I are polyamorous,” she explained.Ah, fuck.“Which means I date who I want, and he dates who he wants. He knew exactly where I was and who I was with.”
