Nausea turned my stomach. “I’m really not interested.”
He inched forward. “No?”
“No.” The word shot from my mouth.
I was so absolutely not interested. But this guy didn’t seem to be able to take a hint.
“I think you’re lying. I think you’re really interested and you just don’t want to look like a slut in front of your friends. Let’s get out of here. I won’t tell anyone.”
What the fuck?
This guy was ridiculous. I took it all back. Any appeal he had was obliterated by his foul, offensive character.
I scoffed out a laugh. “And I think you’re a total prick who can’t seem to comprehend the fact I’d rather gouge my eye out with a fork than spend the night with you.”
Anger flashed across his face, and he jolted forward, making me stumble back.
So maybe that was the wrong thing to do. Inciting this jerk. It was a risk. Some guys needed someone to knock them over the head before they got it and there were some who never understood the meaning of no. Apparently, he was the latter.
“Ah. Playing hard to get. I like it.”
“I’m not playing, Tim.” This time, the words trembled with a tiny spurt of fear. “I mean it. Just . . . leave me alone.”
He slipped forward another inch, backing me the rest of the way into the wall. “See? You even remembered my name. Stop playing coy.”
“She said she wasn’t interested.” The voice that rumbled in the hallway was rough. Low and dangerous.
My skin shivered for entirely different reasons.
Tim swung around to look over his shoulder, still keeping his body angled so I was backed against the wall but allowing me to see farther down the hall.
Rex was there. Fists clenched. Jaw rigid. Anger radiated from him in shocking waves. Those sage eyes glinted with hate as his lean, sinewy muscles twitched with restraint.
I just didn’t know which of us he hated most.
It didn’t matter.
I sucked in a breath of relief, succumbing to a feeling of safety so staggering it weakened my knees.
Tim clung to that sleazy cockiness. “Think you should turn around and mind your own fucking business.”
“And I’d suggest you back the fuck away before you don’t have the chance to walk out of here.” It was nothing less than a growl.
Aggression ricocheted between the two of them. Growing and spinning and spiking.
Finally, Tim cracked a flippant, arrogant grin. Though, I could have sworn I saw his quake of fear. The realization that he didn’t have a fighting chance.
Rex Gunner would beat him bloody.
He stepped away from me. “Whatever, man. You want her, have her. She’s not worth the effort.”
I sagged forward, dragging a bunch of cleansing breaths into my too-tight lungs.
Rex glowered at him, never breaking his menacing stare when Tim angled his shoulders to the side to slip past him, his pace increasing the second he was on the other side of Rex’s raging hostility.
He disappeared at the end of the hall, and I pushed my bangs back from my forehead, which was sweaty and slick with the adrenaline.
“You okay?” Rex asked, voice still shaky and rough.
I nodded. “Yeah . . . he was . . .” I trailed off, forcing myself to stand straight. “Rex. Thank you. I—”
He cut me off with harsh, cold words. “You should go home before you get yourself into any more trouble.”
Then he turned around and stalked away.
I stood there, staring after him, wondering what in the hell had just happened. Finally, I shook myself out of it, feet prodding down the hall. At the end of it, I searched the crowded room until my gaze latched on to the back of the man as he wound through the throng toward the bar.
For a beat, I contemplated, wondering if it was even worth it. Putting myself out there when he seemed to shut me down at every turn.
It didn’t take long to come to the conclusion.
I followed the same path, angling through the bodies that seemed to grow thicker with each moment that passed.
I came to a stop behind him. He had gone straight for the bar, arms rested on top of it, gesturing with his chin to Ollie. Ollie only gestured back, as if they spoke some sort of secret language, a fresh beer gliding across the shiny dark mahogany and landing in Rex’s grip.
He brought it to his lips and took a deep pull, that strong throat bobbing again. But there was a new kind of agitation that radiated from the movement.
As if he were upset.
I swallowed down my reservations and sidled up to him, wondering what had possessed me. What made it impossible to turn away from this man I barely even knew.
That intrigue grew greater and greater with each glimpse that took me a little deeper.
He exhaled heavily when he realized I was there, taking another sip without looking my way.
“I said thank you,” I reiterated just loud enough to be heard over the din.
He sighed, rubbed his fingertips over those plush lips, and barely cut an eye my direction.
“You’re welcome.” It was gruff. Reluctant.
“Am I?” I challenged.
He coughed out a laugh with a quick shake of his head before he looked at me for a moment. Seriously. Genuinely. “Yeah, you are. Would have preferred to take the fucker out, honestly.”
“Then why are you so pissed at me?”
He sighed again, this time as he scrubbed a hand over his face as he looked straight ahead. “It’s just . . . let’s just say today’s not the best of days.”
“What happened?”
He flinched, and his trembling hand ran over his short beard. “Some things are better left unsaid, Rynna Dayne. Only thing dragging history out into the open does is remind you just how fucking bad it sucks that there’s not a damned thing in the world you can do to change it.”
I studied him, trying to make sense of what he said, realizing it was a locked door I had no chance of getting through. Instead, I hiked myself up onto the stool.
Ollie’s eyes went wide when he approached, his attention flicking between the two of us as if he were shocked Rex might actually be talking to me.
“What can I get you?” Ollie asked.
“A margarita would be nice.”
Rex and I sat in silence for a few moments, saying nothing while Ollie mixed my drink and placed it in front of me. “Thank you,” I said, taking a sip before I chanced a peek at Rex.
At his profile.
At his nose and his lips and his jaw.
Shivers rolled and those butterflies swarmed.
“Your daughter is adorable.”
A smile flickered on his lush mouth. “Yeah . . . she’s a handful.”
His words were pure adoration, and for the first time, Rex dropped his shield.
As if just the mention of her had the power to send it tumbling down.
So maybe I melted a little.
“I’d venture that kind of handful is the best kind.”
His chuckle was slow. “Sometimes I wonder how I handle that little hurricane. Barely can keep up most days.” Even though it came out playful, there was an undercurrent of sadness. A suggestion of fear.
I nodded before we both turned away, facing forward and sipping from our drinks. It was as if we both needed a breather, a moment to sort through whatever was happening between us.
It felt like maybe in the silence, we were calling a truce.
The band playing at the small stage behind us at the other end of the bar moved into another song. I’d barely been paying attention to them all night, the songs only a backdrop to the vibe, the band members just as trendy as the bar itself.
But this . . .
This was a song I knew so well.
They were singing a haunting cover of “Awake My Soul” by Mumford & Sons.
Slower and quieter than the original.
The lyrics were full of longing and heartache.
Mournful and somehow hopeful.
I sipped my drink, getting lost in the feel. In the comfort of the soft, scratchy voice of the singer, in the startling warmth that radiated from Rex.
My grandmother’s face flitted through my eyes, her belief a whisper in my ear.
My teeth caught on my bottom lip when I turned to find him watching me.
Intently.
Something fervent rose between us. Alive and potent. It sent my nerves spiraling free.