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“Just here to make sure there’s no trouble,” I replied, the words tasting like vinegar on my tongue.
“Good luck with that,” he chuckled, clapping me on the shoulder before retreating into the crowd.
Steeling myself, I continued my approach, every step feeling like wading through molasses. Eryn's laughter rang out again, and something inside me twisted. This was it—the moment of confrontation I'd reluctantly driven here for. Because whether I liked it or not, Eryn Blake had unsettled me, and I wasn't the kind of man who liked to be unsettled.
I kept my focus on Eryn, her brown hair catching the dim light, her laughter infectious even from a distance. It irked me, how easily she weaved her charm into the fabric of this town—my town. And here I was, about to unravel it all.
I walked up behind her, setting my hand on the small of her back and leaning down to speak into her ear.
“Having fun, princess?” I asked, the words tasting sour, my voice low enough for only her to hear over the music and chatter.
Eryn turned to me then, those amber eyes widening just a fraction before settling into a calm I couldn't fathom. “More than you, evidently,” she shot back, a smile tugging at her lips despite the tension radiating off me like heat from the midday sun.
“Doesn't take much to be the belle of the ball around here, does it? Dance card seems to be overflowin’,” I challenged, unable to keep the accusation from seeping through.
Eryn's smile faltered, a flicker of hurt passing through her eyes before being replaced by a steely resolve. “Is that jealousy I detect, Gray?” Her tone was light, almost teasing, but underneath lay a hint of something deeper, something unspoken that resonated between us like an electric current.
“Jealousy?” I scoffed, straightening up to my full height and crossing my arms over my chest. “I don't get jealous.” Fucking liar.
Her gaze held mine, unwavering and searching. We were so close in order to hear each other, I could have tasted her. It drove me crazy.
“Then what do you call this, Gray?” Her voice was softer now, a mere whisper above the din of the bar.
I didn't have an answer. The air rattled with tension, thick and suffocating. I could feel the weight of her gaze on me, as if she was trying to unravel the layers I kept hidden beneath gruff exterior and stoic demeanor.
Before I could formulate a response, a commotion erupted from the other side of the bar, distracting us both. A group of rowdy patrons had knocked over a table, spilling drinks and causing a ruckus. Eryn's attention flickered toward the disturbance, but her gaze lingered on me for a heartbeat longer before she turned away. The moment had passed.
“Hey Eryn, baby, come dance with me,” Billy Myers said, his words slurred from drink and too much bravado.
Before Eryn could respond, I guided her behind me and stepped between them.
“She’s not interested. Fuck off.”
“What the hell, Gray? Why you gotta be such an asshole? We’re just havin’ a good time.”
“Yeah, well, you’re done now. Move along.
Billy stepped forward, full of beer-fueled swagger, and puffed out his chest as he got in my face. Or, tried to. He was about six inches too short.
“Back off, Gray. You missed your chance, don't ruin hers.”
“Move along, Billy.”
“Or what, you’ll fire me? Guarantee it’ll be worth it to say I fucked Eryn Blake.”
My hand clenched into a fist at my side, the urge to wipe that smug look off his face almost too strong to resist. I drew back, ready to let fly, but a firm grip wrapped around my arm, halting me mid-swing.
“Easy, brother,” Walker's voice came through, steady as a lasso pulling tight. “This ain't worth the trouble.”
I glared at Billy, who still wore that insolent grin, but the fight drained out of me under Walker's hold. He was right. This wasn't me—I didn't brawl over women, especially not ones who'd managed to burrow under my skin without permission. But defending her honor was another story.
“Fine,” I bit out, shaking off Walker's grip. “But this ain't over. You leave her the fuck alone or I will beat your damn face in.”
He looked like he was ready to take a shot at me, but one of his friends had the good sense to pull him back.
I turned to look for Eryn and found her hurrying away, disappearing through the crowd toward the back of the bar.
I needed space, air . . . and maybe a shot of something strong to wash down the bitter taste of jealousy. But more than anything, I needed to talk to her. To know she was okay.
