Page 32 of You Can't Fight Lightning
“I don’t know. I can’t say no.” My words held hope and despair.
“I understand what you’ve been doing for yourself, and why, but I also think you’re wrong. I think third time is the charm. You’ve had all the bad luck possible. It’s time for a change.”
“I hope you’re right.” She wasn’t.
“I am.” Loretta nodded, her curls shaking with the intensity of her movement. “I am, sweetie. And nice job of handling that bozo earlier.”
“That was Z.” I didn’t want to take credit for something I didn’t do. “I was getting ready to reach for the bat.” We had a short bat under the bar, and Pete was fine with any one of us cracking it on the bar to get people back in line. Only on the bar, not on anyone, or their head, or any other part of their person.
Usually the crack of the bat on the bar was all it took. It was an impressive sound. Besides, it was a warning. If one of the staff cracked the bat, someone else was already calling the police.
We finished up, and I walked out. Loretta and Pete would be there a while longer. Janny and the other girls had already left. The parking lot was quiet as I made my way to my bike.
On nights like these, I couldn’t wait to ride home. It was dark, and the sky was clear. I could hear the call of a coyote in the distance, although to me it always sounded like wolves. But the local folk assured me there were no wolves around, only coyotes. Either way, I liked it.
“Well, well, well. Nice to see it’s just you and me.” The red-faced idiot from earlier stood in front of me, so close that I couldn’t stop in time and bumped into him.
I put my hands out to push him away, and he grabbed my arms and yanked me close to him.
Chapter Ten
Z
Tonight had been interesting. I’d missed seeing Roxy the last two days, and even though she’d turned me down more than once, I wanted to see her, so I went to the bar. She’d said she had three days off. That meant she ought to be here tonight.
And then the foolish man who tried to force himself on her. I shook my head. Some men never learned.
Although perhaps I ought not get on my high horse, as it were. I’d been that guy for years. I might still be that guy now.
But reading my books, I was realizing how much harm I’d done. All the woman I’d loved, who I had pushed into loving me, who I left once my interest waned, both to the scorn of the world, to the anger of Hera—I’d been just as much an ass as the man who wanted Roxy’s number in the bar.
My shame felt never ending.
And I sure as hell didn’t like it. But I didn’t know what to do about it. It was sitting there, like a giant toad, waiting for… something.
All while contemplating that perhaps Roxy was right to say no to me. But I remembered what Tuesday the vampire had said. There was a reason Roxy wasn’t available. Before I gave up completely, I needed to find out what her reason was. And since we were getting together tomorrow, I was going to find a way to ask. Then I’d know if I needed to sulk away with my tail between my legs.
I knew the books I was reading were just stories. But I could read the longing in them. The desire to be cared for. Not as a toy, or a mere object of desire, but a person. All the good. All the bad. Both of the main characters had these desires. Love blossomed freely when both admitted these feelings to each other.
None of which I’d ever given a fig about before.
I sighed heavily. Self-reflection sucked.
Something told me to wait, to make sure that Roxy made it out of the bar and on her way home all right. She’d been saying no, but tonight, she’d said yes. To brunch, even. The best meal of the day.
I wondered what had changed.
Normally, I wouldn’t care. I’d call it a win, celebrate my victory, spend time lolling about naked for as long as I could with the woman, and then call it a day.
But this time, I wanted more.
A lot more.
I saw Roxy leave the bar, and I felt my heart jump erratically in my chest. I wasn’t going to tell her that I was still here, making sure she was all right. This might not be high on the list of things that women appreciated.
Then I stiffened, sensing the danger. I was off my bike and striding toward where Roxy stood close with a man—the man who’d wanted her number in the bar.
She’d called it. She said his sort was mean and sneaky. She’d been right.
