Wynter isn’t the friendly type. My heart amps up into a freight training speeding down a hill as she walks toward the table before stopping at the bar. All hopes of enjoying the next few hours ice-queen-free have vanished and now I’m not only working with her every day but apparently, I’m drinking with her. Fate is a cruel, twisted petty thing.
Her eyes find mine again while she waits for her drink and a simple smile crests her lips, taunting me.
What the actual fuck?
I look away, trying to process what happened between us, but when my eyes find the bar again, I see why. A dark-haired man strolls up. Wynter freaking Carlisle is standing at the bar with a tall, sinewy man flirting and giggling like a schoolgirl. Blue diamond eyes catch mine and she sends a small finger wave my way.
She’s doing this intentionally, and I hate it. A spike of pure, furious jealousy drives a stake right through me. I try to keep my face impassive as I watch her. I don’t know if I’m accomplishing the effect, but what I’m really trying to figure out is why in the hell I feel this strongly about the one woman who can’t stand me.
Her laugh pierces through the air and sinks into my chest, causing an electric flare to my heart and the muscles surrounding it. Her red hair tips forward, covering her face from me and I fight the urge to let my muscles pull me across the room and punch the man making her happy.
It’s a game with Wynter. We play with checkmates and hate, not flirtation and jealousy. I shouldn’t be feeling anything, I don’t want to, but I do. My previous excellent mood over spending the night out with my friend drinking and flirting has evaporated. Leaving a bitter aftertaste.
Her lure draws my eyes back to the bar like something you know you shouldn’t be watching, but can’t stop. Tunnel vision fully on her. Wynter looks damn gorgeous tonight. She must’ve gone home and changed before meeting us here because the dress she’s wearing is a lot less work appropriate and a lot more bend-me-over-and-say-sir-yes-sir. After five o’clock she’s no longer my boss for the night.
Her hair hangs in curled red waves down her back, the black dress she’s wearing hugs each sexy little curve of her body in the hottest way.Does she have a whole closet of these dresses?
The low-cut neckline shows off her perfectly sculpted collarbone and creamy white skin. Fighting back yet another wave of jealousy, I shake my head.
Damn.This is not good, and it’s not normal for me. I’ve never been jealous, not like this.
His hand slips to the small of her back as they both stand up from the bar and start walking our way. My eyes immediately land on Wynter and narrow.
What game are you playing, Wynter Carlisle?When her lips curve into a smile back at me I know for a fact she’s messing with me. Playing a game. Making me fucking jealous. Well, good luck with that.
A blank expression coats my face.
Her eyes light up like she’s won as she approaches the table, but the shine in her eyes is a little dull from her normal smile. The one she has when she’s with her friend, Addison.
“Hey, guys, this is Eric. He’s going to hang out with us for a while.” She directs every word at me. One sharp icicle after the next, but her blue eyes never leave his.
“I didn’t realize you were meeting someone here, Wynter.” Addison looks up at her, confused.
She’s just met him and is now dangling him in front of me like a juicy piece of meat in front of a hungry tiger.Good try, Wynter.
“Well, I guess my fairy godmother was looking out for me.”
I snort a little too loudly, receiving a glacial glare from Wynter. “As I was saying… before being so rudely interrupted. Eric won me over with a drink offer and this charming smile. Who was I to say no?” Addison smiles and nods, her eyes finding mine. I shrug as if my insides aren’t raging with jealous hate.
“Very nice.” Reece and Adds scoot farther into the booth so Eric and Wynter can join them. Now, I’m the fifth wheel,great. I slump down on the hard seat of the booth and guzzle the last of my beer. Waving for the waitress, I order another drink. Something stronger. Whiskey.
Eric slips his arm behind her and leans in to whisper something only she can hear. The hint of a smile tugs at the corners of her lips because of him, and it makes my breath catch. This goes on for several minutes and I can’t seem to chug my drink fast enough. I don’t get it. She’s nice to everyone else, even her least favorite columnists, but to me, she is rude, combative, and downright dismissive. Pissed is an understatement in my thoughts.
This guy isn’t even her type. Not that I know what her type is, but seriously… it has to be someone better than him. I’m fucking jealous and the little green monster is growing more with each sweet laugh from her lips.
Minutes have passed when she excuses herself to use the restroom and slips away. I can feel my rage boiling beneath the skin, seeping into the surrounding atmosphere. Making the air toxic to breathe in. I have no excuse for it. She isn’t mine and we definitely aren’t together, so what the hell?
I wait five seconds before getting up and following her. I will stalk and corner my prey before feasting on her hate.
Stepping into the men’s bathroom, I quickly do my thing, the alcohol flowing smoothly through me. Standing at the sink, I look myself over in the mirror. My eyes are pinched in frustration, mixed with a flair of jealousy and wildness.
Closing my eyes, I take a few calming breaths. The urge to cut her off from the rest of our group grates on me and I decide it’s the best way: Hunter and prey. My sweet gazelle won’t know what hit her.
I feel like Gaston amped up on five dozen eggs, bound and determined to get the girl.
Picking a spot, I lean against the brick wall outside of the ladies’ room and wait. The door swings open and Wynter’s flight or fight response kicks in, eyeing the escape routes to avoid me. The perfect prey. Catching Wynter unprepared, winning.
Quickly composing herself, she speaks “Croix, you trying to seem like a creep, or is this something you normally do? Lurking outside of the ladies’ room, waiting for an unsuspecting woman.”