“And you’re in a bar, but you’re drinking water.” He tilts his head in the direction of my water glass, which I’m suddenly gripping with all my might. “That’s downright sacrilegious.”
How does he know it’s water? “It could be something else.”
“Like what?” Is he actually challenging me?
“Um…” My voice drifts. My father wasn’t a big drinker, which, when you think about it is really surprising. So I don’t really know much beyond beer is beer and wine is wine.
“Maybe vodka?” His rumbly voice knocks me from my thoughts. I need to focus.
“Not vodka.” I shake my head. May as well confess my truth. “Actually, I don’t like to drink.” Correction: I don’t like to lose control, and that was one thing my father told me time and again. Liquor makes you lose control.
It makes you do things you’ll regret.
“Ah, so you do make conversation.” His smile is full of relief. Sweet and intimate, nothing like that flash of teeth he was offering up to his overbearing harem earlier. “So why are you in a bar if you don’t like to drink?”
Right. Why am I in a bar? Not like I can tell him the truth.
“I’m—meeting someone.”
He lifts his brows. “Are they late?” I must send him a questioning look because he immediately says, “You’ve been here for a while. I couldn’t help but notice. Beautiful girl sitting alone in a bar, giving off that ‘I’m too cool for this scene’ vibe…”
Wait a minute. Is he—flirting with me? Or insulting me? I slam back the rest of my water and rise to my feet, a trembling breath leaving me when I realize how close Rhett is standing. So close, I can feel his body heat radiating toward me, and I can smell his appealing—delectable—scent. God.
“I was just leaving,” I say icily, my shoulder brushing against his broad chest when I walk past him. A scatter of tingles washes over me at first contact, electrifying my skin, and I try my best to shake it off.
That certainly wasn’t supposed to happen either.
“Hey, I didn’t mean to make you mad.” He chases after me, pushing his way through the crowd as I head toward the door. I don’t turn back, I don’t acknowledge him or make a sound because I want him to think he made me angry.
And he did. He definitely made me angry.
So why does it feel like I’m trying to convince myself?
With an irritated huff, I push open the door and exit the bar, the sudden silence calming my racing heart as the cool fall air washes over my heated skin. I breathe a sigh of relief when I realize he didn’t follow me outside. He must not be interested after all.
At least, for now.
A satisfied smile curls my lips, and I duck my head against the wind as I start to make my way home, my mind full of endless possibilities.
Maybe us meeting like that for the first time will work out for the best after all.
“Hey. You’re the girl from the other night. The one who ran out on me.”
Slowly I look up to find Rhett Montgomery standing in front of the table I’m sitting at, my eyes going wide with surprise when they land on his too-handsome face. Though I’m not really shocked to find him here. I’ve followed him long enough to know he’d be at the library. He meets with his study group every Thursday night at seven, and they’re usually here for an hour or so. I deliberately planted myself at the table closest to the front door of the library and patiently waited for him to pass by.
I tilt my head to the side and narrow my eyes, contemplating him. Like I don’t quite remember him. He takes a step back, seemingly affronted that I could possibly forget him—hard eye roll—and before he takes off, I snap my fingers like I just had a revelation.
“The guy who insulted me for being too cool at the bar,” I tell him as I slowly close my Intro to Communications textbook.
His mouth pops open like I just punched him in the stomach. “I didn’t insult you.”
“From what I vaguely remember, it sounded like you did.” I flash him a sweet smile to counterbalance the venom in my words.
“If you thought I was being rude, I apologize.” He actually sounds sincere, which surprises me. But he’s constantly surprising me so…
“You’re forgiven,” I murmur. I need to remember myself and stop being so rude to him.
He gestures toward the empty chair across from me. “Can I sit down?”