Page 16 of Undertow

“You sound familiar.”

“I hope so. He’s my brother.” He opens the door for me.

I thank him as I step inside. “You have a brother?”

“A couple,” he answers wryly. “I’m one of six kids.”

My eyes widen. “Sixkids? Your mom and dad must have really liked each other.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Actually, no. My father is a decidedly unpleasant man. He was worse when he was younger. His rage could just swallow you up.” He puts a hand on the small of my back and guides me through a small crowd lingering near the entry doors. “They’re divorced now, but I guess when she was younger, my mom must have been really into his toxicity.”

“Happens to the best of us,” I say wryly.

“What about you?” he asks, glancing over at me. “Any siblings?”

I shake my head. “Only child. My parents also divorced, but my father passed when I was a teenager. Mom remarried, and they live in Florida now, so we don’t see them much.”

He nods. “So the toxic asshole in your life…”

“Parker’s father. He was a liar, a cheat, and he was gaslighting me long before I knew what gaslighting was. We were on-again, off-again forever, but it’s hard when you have a kid together and can’t really break away. I finally realized Parker and I could never have anything good as long as I let him stick around, so I cut it off.” He nods like he understands, so I ask carefully, “What about your wife? Was your marriage a good one?”

“A great one. Mostly because of her. We married young, so I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. She didn’t either, but she figured it out.” He smiles faintly.

The noise picks up a little once we’re in the heart of the bar. A black bar with a blue glow is the focal point in the center of the room, and everything else unfolds around it. The seats at the bar are mostly full. Black tables surround the bar, and then beyond that, blue velvet booths for anyone desiring a little more privacy.

Hayden guides me to a U-shaped booth with a killer view of the ocean. I’m distracted watching the waves lap at the shore as I slide in and don’t realize I’ve scooted too far until I’m practically on his lap.

“Oh! I’m sorry.” I start to scoot away, but he stops me with a firm hand on my inner thigh.

My heart sinks, and tension tugs between my legs.

That opens up new horror. I’ve never felt aroused by a man so quickly before.

Then again, I’ve never let a man put his hand on my inner thigh like this…

Not that I’m letting him. I want to move it. I know Ishouldmove it. But there’s something hard in his gaze, something commanding that conveys wordlessly that I shouldn’t.

My stomach pitches, but I ignore the warning. It’s only his hand, after all. I’m being silly.

I swallow and reach for the little black menu standing up on the table. My eyes scan it as if I’m deciding on a drink, but I can’t concentrate long enough to read any of the words. I can’t focus on anything but the weight of his big, warm hand on my inner thigh.

Why isn’t he moving it?

Does he think I’ll scoot away if he does?

My chest feels tight as I look around to see if anyone else notices, but of course no one does. No one cares if his hand is on my thigh. They’re busy enjoying their own dates.

When his hand does finally move, it’s not away like I expect. He gives my thigh a gentle squeeze. It feels so intimate, so familiar. The sort of thing a lover would do, not a first date.

I shouldn’t have gone out with him.

This was a mistake.

“I think you need a drink,” he murmurs, plucking the menu from my nervous fingers and scanning it himself, his hand never leaving my thigh. “Do you have any strong preferences or dislikes when it comes to alcohol?”

I shake my head, unable to find my words.

His eyebrows rise. “Really? No preference whatsoever?”

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