Page 41 of The Contractor's Rose
Elodie bumped my arm, pulling my focus back. I turned as she handed me a glass. “To making bad decisions,” she said.
I took a cautious sip, the drink strong and tart, fizzing faintly on my tongue. “I’m already not wearing underwear,and you’re eye-humping the bartender. How much worse can it get?”
She grinned and raised her glass like a toast. “Challenge accepted.”
I was mid-sip when a man slid onto the stool beside me.
“Is this seat taken?” he asked, voice slick and practiced.
I turned, giving him a polite-enough smile. “I’m actually here with someone.”
He didn’t flinch. “They wouldn’t mind if I borrowed you for a bit, would they?”
My smile thinned. “They might.”
“You’re too pretty to be left alone,” he said, leaning closer. His breath was sharp with whiskey.
I straightened, tension spiking in my veins. “Not alone.”
“You sure?” His hand drifted toward my hip, fingers twitching like he was about to reach for me.
And then—an arm slammed down on the bar in front of me, sharp and sudden. A wall of muscle, tanned and solid, cut clean between us like a line drawn in the sand.
I didn’t even have to look.
Iknewthose forearms. Knew every detail. The calloused strength. The veins that stood out when he clenched his fists. The heat that rolled off him in waves.
Gavin.
My breath caught, heart stumbling into my throat.
He didn’t say a word. Just stood there, tall and immovable, his presence a silent warning. That protective energy wrapped around me like armor, crackling with quiet fury.
The man beside me glanced up, saw something written across Gavin’s face, and paled. He hesitated for a beat—then backed off without another word, swallowed by the crowd.
Gavin turned toward me slowly, every nerve on fire, my pulse loud in my ears.
“What are you?—”
He looked down at me, his jaw tight. “You okay?”
“I—yeah. I’m fine.” I blinked, struggling to remember how to breathe. “What are you doing here?”
His mouth twitched. “I could ask you the same thing.”
But his eyes never left mine.
And that protective fury still hadn’t faded.
TWENTY-THREE
GAVIN
Meeting Harryfor drinks to discuss a potential property after spending the morning in bed with his daughter should have made me feel guilty.
But I didn’t.
Not even a little.
