Page 21 of Bordeaux Bombshell
I’m on my own.
For a second, I wish my old backup were here. When I first started going out to bars, Kel and Nate insisted on coming with me. After a few knockdown fights with the overprotective oafs, they stopped interfering when I tried to flirt. Eventually, I trained Kel to be a pretty good wingman for me, even if Nate was liable to scare them off. It was like high school all over again, me and the boys. I never had to worry about being safe; I only had to worry if my target was brave—or cocky—enough to handle an introduction.
It had been perfect.
Even after Kel and June got together and had Olive, Nate kept coming with me. He was never as good at flirting as I was, but he tried.
Clammy fingers stroke the inside of my wrist. Sawyer still has my hand in a vise grip but has flipped it over to examine it. I pull against him, hoping he’ll release me with a steady pressure, but he is too busy unfurling my fingers and examining my palm.
Jesus Christ, how strong is this man’s grip? He’s carrying on a conversation, but I tune him out, still trying to catch Chelsea or Nicole’s eye as they wait their turn by the karaoke stage.
Has thumb wrestling shifted to palm reading? Seriously? What the fuck is with this guy? I stop engaging with him, no longer interested in keeping the peace or taking one for the team. My friends step onto the stage, and the opening notes of Carrie Underwood’s “Before He Cheats”play as I try to reclaim my arm.
“Listen—” I half shout, but I’m cut off as Sawyer pulls me into his side, trapping my arm between my chest and his torso.
“Quit fighting it, babe.” He slobbers against my cheek. His breath is repulsive, and I lean as far back as I can.
“There you are, sweet cheeks. I’ve been looking for you for ages.” A low rumble accompanies the looming presence behind my back.
Closing my eyes, I suck in a deep breath, knowing this rescue is going to cost me. Probably more than my heart can afford, but it’ll have to join all the other moments Nate Ridgefield is charging me emotional interest for.
“Hi, babe,” I grit out between clenched teeth, finally wrenching my hand free from Sawyer’s grip. “I told you to look for the Minnesota twins in the crowd.”
Nate pulls me protectively into his side, one hand gripping the waistband of my jeans like I’m a wayward kitten. “I assumed she’d be on stage with her friends.” He says this to Sawyer, who’s staring between the two of us in disbelief. “Didn’t think you’d be in the crowd and not in the spotlight.” He directs the barb at me, effectively ignoring the sputtering man in front of us.
“Yeah, right. Back off. She doesn’t know you, man.” Sawyer reaches out and grabs my upper arm, pulling me away from Nate, who lets go of my ass only when I stumble.
Incensed, I shove Sawyer off me. “Let go of me, asshole.” I don’t have to hear it to know Nate is growling behind me. Like a fucking werewolf.
Sawyer looks from me to Nate, disbelief in the scrunch of his eyebrows. “You know this guy?”
“Unfortunately.”
When Sawyer’s eyebrows shoot up, I realize my mistake. “Yes, I know him,” I correct myself, trying to soften my body language as Nate steps close.
His chest presses against my spine, one hand resting lightly on my shoulder. “I’d prefer it if you kept your hands off my girl.”
Again, Sawyer’s eyes bounce from Nate to me. “But you were flirting with me…”
“I was being friendly. Not the same.” I shake my head. Ihadconsidered flirting—up until his thumb-wrestling maneuver.
Sawyer scoffs, his arms crossing over his chest, straining the buttons of his shirt. “And you’re dating this guy? He looks like he hasn’t showered in a week.” He sniffs. “Smells like it too.”
Jesus Christ, is this guy really going to pull some red-pill alpha shit right now? Maybe I pegged the wrong one as a werewolf.
Besides, Nate smells exactly like he always does after a long day in the fields—like damp earth, green things, and a little bit sweaty man. I wouldn’t call it unpleasant, but maybe I’m used to it. He smells like what I expect a man to smell like.
Goddammit, there’s another one of those fucking buttons Nate installed in my lizard brain.
“What can I say? She likes a man who’s good with his hands.” Nate smirks before he pulls me back to his side, dropping an arm over my shoulder and tugging a lock of my hair between his fingers.
Sawyer’s cheeks bloom with red as he sputters. “Fucking bitch,” he manages to spit out at me. “Should have known a low-value woman like you would go for a chump like this. If you wanna be with a real man—”
“Yeah, we’re done here. Let’s go…babe.” I hesitate on the endearment but swallow back my ire to spit it out. Reaching out, I snag Nate’s hand, rough and warm in mine, and start to walk away. Pulling when he doesn’t move, too busy glaring at Sawyer like he’s trying to decide whether it’s worth escalating the situation.
For fuck’s sake. I tug harder, intent on getting out of here before we cause a scene. When Nate doesn’t look away from the unseasoned ball sac, it becomes clear I’ll have to escalate this myself to get his attention and get out of here. I grab the front ofhis shirt and turn him toward me, slamming my mouth against his and praying that the surprise will snap him out of this staring contest.
Without missing a beat, Nate twists my arm behind my back, pressing our bodies together. His other hand winds into the hair at the nape of my neck, holding me tight as his mouth ravages mine.
