Page 58 of Second Go-Round

“Nope.” She swigged from her bottle and turned back toward me, giving me her undivided attention. I stared at her lips as they peeled off the rim, moist and lush. “But this isn’t a date.”

“Call it whatever you want,” I said with a grin, loving how she’d dismissed the guy, “but I’ve gotten to hang with you longer than most men you kick to the curb.”

“True.” She sipped again, her green eyes peering into mine as though reading my mind.

Rather than leaving her to guess, I leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Why?”

She rolled her eyes and took a long drink of her beer. “You’re annoying as hell,” she muttered, but no annoyance showed on her face.

“Why, Christine?” I pushed for an answer, wanting some truth laid out in the space between us, something to help me bridge the gap and grant me access behind her walls.

A heavy exhale left her, her lips thinning as she studied me.

I refused to sit back and let it go.

“Because you intrigue me,” she finally confessed, her tone unhappy. “You also scare the shit out of me.”

I grinned over finally getting a peek behind enemy lines in our war I had every intention of winning. “I like the sound of that.”

“I don’t.” Christine sat back on her chair, her gaze roaming over my face, shoulders, and chest, coming to rest on my hands wrapped around my beer. “You’re a great guy…”

“Here comes the but.”

She smiled. “Actually, I was going to say and, as in and any woman would be lucky to have you.”

“But?” I supplied since I knew the word rested in her wary mind.

“I’m not her.”

“You could be.”

Her mouth opened, but she shut it again, shaking her head. She picked at the bottle’s label with a fingernail. “I would end up breaking your heart like I have every other guy who has fallen for me.”

“Awfully confident of that fact, aren’t you?”

“I’ve left enough broken hearts in my wake to know it’s the truth.”

I pushed my beer off to the side and leaned forward, crossing my arms on the table. She’d given a bullshit reason, but I could focus on the real one keeping her from agreeing to what we both longed for. “What if I’m willing to risk it all?”

Christine lifted her head and stared at me. “Why would you do that?”

“Because you intrigue me. You also scare the shit out of me.”

Chuckling, she raised her bottle in mock cheers and sucked down a few swallows.

“Because I also think you’re worth it,” I continued, refusing to lighten the mood like she seemed to desperately want to do. “I love your confidence. Your drive.”

“You also love my ass,” she stated, placing her bottle back on the table.

“More than you could imagine.” All trace of a smile faded from my lips and eyes. “You’re the first and only woman who has made me think about more than just emptying my balls, Christine. You know about my parents, why I’ve been dead set against any sort of relationship.”

She eyed me over the table, nodding slowly.

“But you make me believe the good times could outweigh the bad,” I murmured, putting every ounce of emotion I felt into my words. “That the minutes, the hours or days of bliss we could find together would be worth any possible future heartache.”

Christine sucked in a breath as though I’d touched a tender part inside her. Her eyes welled. “Jarod—”

Voices raised harshly from the entrance, and I shifted to see around Christine. The bouncer checking IDs by the door held onto a man’s arm. Red-faced, the would-be patron in the bulky zipper-down tried to push his way inside. The bouncer grabbed hold of his sweatshirt and yanked, but the material gave way beneath their scuffle.

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