Chapter 2: A force to be reckoned with

"Thanks, Cade." Rusty reached over the bar and punched Cade in the shoulder. "I was having an enjoyable conversation until you scared the lady."

Cade chuckled, patting the counter as he took a step back. "Wish I could give you a better welcome back, but we had another call-off. Beer's on the house though."

Rusty gestured toward my barely mojito. "Then, how about you throw in a fresh drink for Loner, too?"

"I..." My face heated as both sets of eyes fell on me again. "Fine, if it's on the house."

Cade grinned as he took my glass and dumped the contents, but Rusty caught my attention again. "So, you wouldn't agree to a drink if I bought it?"

"Nope." Oh, I probably would have. There was something about him that had me struggling not to grin like an idiot.

He made a sound in his throat and turned back to the game. "I see how it is."

He pretended to be offended, but the edge of his eyes pinched with the hint of a smile that curled his lips.

Typically, I would have been relieved to let the conversation die off, but not this time. This time, I wanted to hear him talk again. I wanted to see him smile again. And, even if it gave me a coronary, I wanted another glimpse of those hazel eyes. "See how what is?"

Rusty lifted his eyebrows and swigged away at this drink.

I tried to take a deep breath to hide my nerves, but despite my better judgement, he was getting to me, and I was egging him on. When Cade delivered my new drink, he also sat a half-filled whiskey glass next to Rusty's beer. Then, he promised to intervene if Rusty got out of hand, and once again, we were left at the corner of the bar.

"What's wrong with letting a guy buy you a drink?" He lifted the smaller glass to his lips, his eyes boring into me over the rim.

I got what I wanted, but now I had to answer. Mentally, I kicked myself in the stomach, trying to compose myself long enough to take a sip of my drink. "That's fine if the drink is where said 'guy' wants things to end."

"You think I'd hold one drink over your head?" The disbelief that pinched his voice seemed sincere, but I was holding firm to any ground I could get.

And it was damn tenuous.

"Maybe two or three, but I don't intend to let the trend get started." I wasn't sure who I trusted less in this scenario, me or him. I would have been tempted to let him hold that drink over my head. He had the kind of smile that made my insides go weak. I wouldn't have thought such a smile existed in real life, and when combined with that intensity in his eyes, and the hint of rumble in his voice, my mouth went dry every time he spoke.

"What if I'm not that kind of guy?" he asked.

"That's exactly what you'd say if you were that kind of guy."

The dim lighting of the bar reflected in his eyes as he leaned back and chuckled. "Fair enough."

Over Rusty's shoulder, Oliver caught my eye from across the room. He nodded toward Rusty and I shook my head. If I had to be stuck at the bar all night, I planned on making an enjoyable time of it.

Shit. I realized that was exactly what Oliver brought me here to do. So much for not letting him win. But I was in so over my head, chances were better I'd simply end up making a complete fool of myself.

Rusty glanced over his shoulder, apparently looking for whatever had caught my attention. "So, you don't like sports, and from the look of your last drink, you'd been nursing it for a while, so you didn't come here for the alcohol - "

I glared up at him, but kept my face angled down toward the bar. "My roommate said I needed to get out to the house, so he dragged me along, and I stubbornly refused to move from this spot once we got here."

"And your roommate just left you here to fend for yourself?" His voice deepened, rumbling in his chest.

"I'm doing just fine, thank you." I sat back in my seat and tipped my glass in his direction.

"A force to be reckoned with, I see." He finished the smaller glass and slid it away.

Caught up between the push and pull of emotions and the way my chest threatened to implode every time he smiled, I looked to my glass for a distraction, tracing my fingers through the cold droplets of condensation and watching them trickle down to the bar. I was out of my comfort zone and way out of my league. But maybe that's why I felt safe flirting back. I figured there was no chance in hell he was really interested.

A redhead with a T-shirt sporting the logo of the white-shirts leaned against the bar next to Rusty. She tossed her curly hair over her shoulder and yelled down the bar for a southern screw - much louder than necessary considering Cade wasn't more than three feet away.

I almost choked as every male around the bar turned to look at the already tipsy woman. Her cropped shirt was two sizes too small and slit from the neck, revealing her cleavage. While waiting for her drink, the redhead rubbed against Rusty's arm and whispered something to him with a giggle.

A bitter taste pooled in my mouth as the tide of jealousy rose in my chest. My jaw ticked and my foot bounced against the railing under the bar. He wasn't mine to claim after a few minutes of banter, but for once, I had to acknowledge the twinge of hope at having a good night. You don't even know his real name, I repeated to myself.

Rusty looked the tipsy woman over - his gaze pausing too long for my comfort on the low neckline of her shirt - then shook his head.

For a moment, hope sprang to life inside my chest again, thinking he'd just shot her down until I saw her reaction.

"Good," the redhead replied with a squeaky tone, then she looked around Rusty to me. "Are you two together?"

I glared back, but her gaze had already refocused on Rusty.

"We're just having a friendly chat," he replied, more in the direction of the approaching bartender than the girl.

Cade sat an orange drink in front of her, and she smiled briefly before resuming her ogling session, brushing the back of her hand against Rusty's forearm. She was barely an inch from rubbing her boobs on him, too. "Sports bars are known for titillating conversations."

Once again, this was the last place I wanted to be. I stopped listening, wanting to curl up in a ball and hide behind my mojito glass. For all the good it would have done me. I propped my elbow up on the bar, pressing my fingers to my temple to avoid the scene going on next to me, and continued tracing lines through the condensation around my glass with my free hand.

I risked one peek to see Rusty smiling. It wasn't the same smile he'd flashed so readily when he'd spoken to me. This time it was hard around the edges, strained, leaving his eyes cold and hard. He lifted his head and looked over my shoulder toward the back of the room.

"There's a booth open," he said, sliding off the stool and touching my elbow.

"Huh?" I almost fell off my seat as I jerked upright and processed what he said and that he was speaking to me.

He held out a hand in my direction, holding his stein in the other. "Join me."

It wasn't a question, and without thinking twice, I grabbed my drink and slid my hand into his warm grasp. Maybe it was just to piss off the girl who thought she could steal any guy in the bar, but deep down, I wanted to have just as much fun as everyone else seemed to be having.

As I followed Rusty, my heart rate increased until the rushing in my ears drowned out the chattering around us. He took the back bench, leaving the closest seat for me. As I got settled, I couldn't resist peeking back toward the bar. The redhead narrowed her eyes on us - particularly me - flipped her hair with one hand and turned, heading toward the group on the other side of the bar.

Well that's different. And undeniably satisfying.

When I turned back, Rusty was staring off in a different direction. "I'm guessing your roommate is a big guy, curly ginger hair..."

"Yeah." That squeeze of tension hugged my chest again.

"Incoming."