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“You little bitch,” he spits. The words hang heavy in the air, venomous and vile. “You’re going to pay for that.”
My heart pounds, a staccato beat against my ribs, but I don’t flinch. I won’t give him the satisfaction. Sierra murmurs something unintelligible beside me, her words slurred and distant.
“Leave us alone,” I say, voice steady despite the tremor of adrenaline coursing through me.
Before he can lunge, a solid form steps between us. Grayson. His back is a wall, muscles taut and ready.
“Move along, man.” Grayson’s voice is firm, no room for argument.
The guy sizes him up, the fury in his gaze flickering with doubt. He glares at Grayson, searching for some weakness, but finds none.
“Whatever,” he grunts and then, in a last act of defiance, spits on the polished floor. He shuffles off, disappearing into the crowd, leaving a bitter taste in the atmosphere.
I exhale, the tension in my shoulders easing. Grayson glances over his shoulder, eyes searching mine for any sign of distress. It’s clear he’s got my back.
As Grayson’s focus shifts to me, I see the concern etched in his brow. “You okay?” he asks, eyes scanning my face as if searching for any sign of injury.
“Thanks to you,” I manage, my voice a bit more breathless than I’d like. “I just want to get out of here. Back to the hotel.”
“Let’s do that.” He nods, decisive. “I’ve got wheels—a rental. Let me drive you.”
Relief floods me, washing away the lingering unease from the confrontation. “Really? That would be amazing, Grayson.” My gratitude comes out in a rush, each word laced with the tension that’s starting to unravel from my shoulders.
“Of course,” he says simply, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to come to my rescue.
Sierra sways on her feet, giggling at nothing. Grayson’s arm is a steady presence around her waist as he guides her to the car. I shuffle alongside them, my heart still hammering from the confrontation.
“Almost there,” he murmurs, more to Sierra than to me. The night air chills my flushed skin, the sounds of the karaoke bar fading behind us.
We reach the sleek rental, its dark paint gleaming under the streetlights. Grayson opens the back door with a gentle click, and together we maneuver Sierra onto the seat. She flops back, a drunken smile plastered on her face.
“Thank you,” I whisper, watching as Grayson pulls the seat belt across Sierra’s chest, clicking it into place.
“Always.” His eyes meet mine, and there’s a softness there that makes my breath catch. He ensures the strap isn’t twisted, his fingers grazing Sierra’s shoulder with practiced care.
“Safe and sound,” he says, giving me a small, reassuring nod before closing the door with a soft thud.
I’m left standing there, staring at the closed door for a second too long. Grayson rounds the car and opens the passenger side for me. It’s a simple gesture, but it feels intimate, considerate.
“Your chariot awaits,” he teases lightly, but his voice is warm, wrapping around me like a blanket.
“Thanks,” I say, stepping closer. Our bodies are inches apart, and my pulse races when I look up into his eyes. They’re a stormy gray in the dim light, intense and focused on me.
“Anytime.” His hand brushes mine as I slide into the seat, sending a spark of electricity through me. His touch lingers, intentional, and time seems to slow down.
“Seat belt,” he reminds me softly, and I fumble with the latch, finally securing it. But it’s an excuse to stay close, to maintain this connection that’s crackling between us.
“Can’t be too careful,” I respond, voice barely above a whisper.
“Absolutely not,” Grayson agrees, his gaze holding mine. There’s a promise in his eyes, something unspoken but understood.
He closes the door and it’s like breaking a spell. My heart is pounding again, but now it’s not from fear or adrenaline. It’s something else entirely—something I’m both excited and terrified to explore.
I watch Grayson stride to the driver’s side, his movements confident and easy. The night seems to quiet a fraction, settling around us like the aftermath of a storm. He slides into his seat with a casual grace that has my stomach fluttering in an all-too-familiar way.
“I saw you punch that guy.” He throws me a playful look. “Didn’t know you had it in you. I like that side of you.”
“Hey,” I call out before he starts the engine, a playful edge to my voice. “Just so you know, I’ve got a mean right hook. You better keep it straight or you might just find out firsthand.”
