Page 12 of Bar Down, Baby

“Seriously?”

“Yeah,” I say with a little chuckle.

“That sounds like a Disney movie. The kid who skates on the pond in his backyard and learns to overcome the obstacles…” She leans back in her chair, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back, exposing her pale, elegant throat. “Hmmm… it’s like a postcard.”

“It sort of was,” I say, just watching her.

She’s so uninhibited in this tiny little moment, a departure from the soft-spoken girl who barely said a word from the time we left the arena until about three minutes ago. But now, in the relative comfort of our little bubble, she looks free and wild and beautiful. In that moment, I have the reckless thought that I need to possess her.

“Where did you grow up?” She sits up, and I already miss the unobstructed view of her neck.

“Upstate New York. Saratoga.”

“Hmm,” she says. That humming is going to be the death of me. “I’ve never been.”

“Really?”

She nods.

“Where are you from?”

“Nevada,” she says, and her expression shutters.

I watch her for a long moment, waiting for her to open up again, but it’s not coming. I turn to my beer and take down a long sip. The buzz is hitting me and everything feels good and light. I need to know this girl, and where I might not usually push for more, I can’t help it tonight.

“Let’s play a game.”

“A game?” She laughs, meeting my eyes, and I lean in slightly, holding her gaze.

“Two truths and a lie.”

She laughs, ducking her chin, hiding those beautiful eyes behind her bangs. I grin.

“Isn’t that a little…” She trails off, and I shrug.

“Unless you’re afraid?”

“Afraid?” she scoffs.

“I mean, I can read people really well. It’s sort of how I make my living.”

She tenses.Fuck. I’ve pushed her too far. She looks down at her glass, scratches at her neck. But then she shrugs and smiles.

“Fine. Sure. You first.”

I grin and take another sip of my beer, signaling to the waitress that passes that we’ll need another round.

“Oh, not for me,” Megan says.

“I think we’ll be here for a while still,” I say, grinning at her.

She cocks her head as if trying to read me, and her expression softens. She looks up at the waitress and nods.

My pulse thrums. She’s going to stay with me. A small part of me is waving red flags, screaming that this is a terrible idea. But another, hungrier, much louder part of me puts my arm along the back of her chair as I grin that I get at least another twenty minutes with her. Or more, if I have anything to say about it.

CHAPTER5

DEREK

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