She shakes her head, clearly not interested.
He sits down in the booth next to her and slides close to her. She shrinks away from him, pressing herself against the wall, and I’ve seen about all that I can take. If there’s one think I can’t stand, it’s drunken assholes forcing their attentions on unwilling women.
I down my shot in one gulp, slap the shot glass back down on the counter, and walk over to where she’s sitting.
“I think she’s made it clear she’s not interested, buddy,” I tell the drunken idiot who insists on imposing himself on her.
“Hey, why don’t you mind your own—“ he begins, but then he stops mid-sentence and gulps when he looks up and sees who’s talking to him.
Yeah, I guess my reputation precedes me.
I raise an eyebrow at him. “You want to finish that sentence?”
He quickly slides out of the booth, apologizing, “No, Damon, man, I didn’t realize it was you.”
I say nothing else to him, staring at him menacingly as he scampers away back to the table where his crew sits guffawing like the morons they are.
I look back down at the girl and am almost bowled over by the most innocent-looking, sapphire blue eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re framed by thick, dark lashes, and my chest tightens painfully.
Jesus, I knew she was beautiful from the glimpse I’d gotten of her across the bar when she’d burst into the place, but up close, she’s nothing short of a fucking angel.
Her skin is porcelain, the cheeks tinged pink from her exertion, and her lips are sinfully full and rosy, the kind of lips that give teenage boys wet dreams.
I feel myself beginning to stiffen in my jeans just looking at her face. Fuck, this girl is a princess, and I’d love nothing more than to spoil her for all she’s worth.
I realize I’m staring at her, so I gather my wits long enough to ask her, “Do you mind if I sit?”
She shakes her head, “No.” Then, she blushes, “I mean, no, I don’t mind if you sit, that is.” Fucking adorable. She’s fucking adorable. Everything about her.
I sit in the booth across from her, smelling her scent from across the table. She smells young and sweet, like fresh berries just waiting to be plucked. I fight back a groan.
Fuck, what’s wrong with me? No female has ever affected me this way.
“What’s your name?” I ask her.
“Hadley,” she answers.
“Hadley,” I repeat, tasting her name on my tongue. “I’m Damon.”
She nods, “So I heard from that guy. Thanks for helping me just now, by the way,” she says, tucking a strand of that long, dark hair behind her ear. My fingers itch to reach out and see if those locks are as soft and silky as they look.
“No problem,” I tell her. “Some guys are just idiots when they drink.”
She looks down, “Yeah, tell me about it.”
I frown, not liking the sadness in her tone. “What are you doing in a place like this?” I ask her.
She looks up, “Oh, um, I was just…taking a break from my walk.”
I cock my head to look pointedly under the table at her bare feet. “You always take a walk barefoot in the middle of the night?” I ask her. There’s more to her story than she’s letting on, and I’m damn sure going to get to the bottom of it.
Her face colors even more. “I—I,” she sputters before her shoulders sag and she finally admits “I was running away from something.”
“Something or someone?” I ask, already reading between the lines, and what I’m sensing has my hands fisting on the table. If someone hurt her, I’ll hunt them down and tear them limb from limb with my bare hands.
“My stepdad,” she confesses, finally looking back up at me. “He’s been drinking more lately, and he…he came into my room tonight.”
Hot anger boils through me, but I attempt to tamp it down as I ask her, “Did he hurt you?”