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“What would you like, baby?”

Baby.

Damn him. Because I was nobody’s baby. I had to be strong.

Fierce to face each day.

But the only thing I felt then was fiercely vulnerable against the word, the part of me that wanted to be taken care of for once, adored, begging for it to mean something.

“A red would be nice.”

He looked back at her. “Get my girl some red.”

Cece smirked, and I knew Kale was making a statement in front of her, and she seemed to mind less than I did when she poured his whiskey into an ice-filled tumbler and pushed it his way, when she jerked off the cork of the half-empty bottle of Freak Show and filled me a glass to the brim.

“Enjoy,” she told me because, clearly, she already had.

“Thank you,” I barely managed, taking a long sip while Kale tossed two twenties to the bar.

It was in that moment that I realized there was so little I knew about him.

Nothing, really.

As little as he knew about me.

And part of me wanted to push him away and keep him there while the other side was begging for him to turn around, face me, and let me see inside.

Because I kept getting this feeling that he might need me the way I was beginning to feel as if I needed him.

That maybe it was okay to lean on someone once in a while.

He grabbed my hand again, not saying a word as he led me back through the crowd. I expected him to find a table around the dance floor, but he bypassed it, heading toward the stairs that led to the second floor.

The voices filtering from above were raucous, even wilder than downstairs.

The reason for it quickly became evident as we mounted the last step and found the rows of pool tables lining the back wall, country boys and city boys alike out shooting a few rounds, beers flowing as freely as the laughter.

My mama had always told me boys would be boys. Didn’t matter what fabric they were cut from.

She’d meant it as comfort.

After Dane, I’d taken it as a warning.

But I knew in my heart of hearts that no two were created alike. That no one person was a blanket statement. And someday . . . someday, I’d find the one who was created for me.

Kale didn’t pause. He just led me to the far left where a wall of windows blocked off a balcony.

A sign was set on an easel in front of it declaring that the balcony was closed, but Kale wasn’t deterred. He headed to the far end where the wall could be fully opened like an accordion, opened it just enough so we could slip through, and tugged me forward.

“Kale,” I whispered almost desperately, feeling as if we were committing some terrible crime.

A deep, dark chuckle rolled from him, the man dripping sex when he turned to tug me through the crack he’d made. “Call it the perks of putting up with Ollie.”

“You seem to have a lot of perks to offer.”

The chuckle that rumbled from his chest should have been illegal. “You have no idea.”

Those shivers were back, racing my flesh. There was no mistaking what was in his words.

The desire that soaked them. Drenched in gasoline. The mere brush of his hand a match.

That need was only stoked with each second that passed.

He shut and latched the partition, shutting us away from the rest of the world. Elevated above it.

The loud, boisterous voices had become a dull hum, just an echo of revelry that filtered through the glass panes. From below, I could feel the rumbling beat of the band, a vibration that traveled my legs and settled into my bones.

Only a trickle of the singer’s mesmerizing voice made it through, carried on the breeze that blew through the quieted, secluded space.

I released an awed breath.

I felt as if I’d been removed. Lifted from the realities of the world and was watching it in slow motion.

The city set out below us, the river a black, twisty, shimmery rope where it snaked behind the buildings on the opposite side of the street.

I edged up to the railing, leaning against it as I took in the view. “It’s gorgeous up here,” I murmured, never more unsure of what I was doing than right then.

Because I could feel that power blister over me from behind.

Hot, heated energy.

Billowing in waves and wrapping me whole. His voice enveloped me from behind. “I’m sorry about what happened down there.”

I almost laughed, and I bit my lip, gazing down at the couples that strolled along the sidewalk. “It’s none of my business who you sleep with, Kale. We just had a dinner date. That was it. Remember?”

It felt like a lie forced through my teeth.

“Was it?” he asked, inching closer, making me shake. He ran a hand from my shoulder down my arm.


Tags: A.L. Jackson Fight for Me Romance