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“What?” I ask, annoyed at myself for being defensive and asking the question in the first place.
“If you don’t go after her, somebody else will,” he says. “Namely, me.”
“Is that a threat?” God, I hope so. Tomorrow I’ll blame the whiskey, but tonight… nothing would satisfy me more right this minute than a good reason to punch him in the face.
Lawson’s smirk returns. “Depends. You think me going after your girl is a threat?”
I step into his space and watch his eyes go wide, his pupils expanding until they’re almost all I can see. My body goes tight and for one horrifying second I forget I’m about to hit him and I find myself staring at his mouth. His lips are lush, fuller than any man’s have a right to be.
Cooper Lawson is the exact opposite of my type. He’s mouthy, obnoxious, hateful, arrogant, and I don’t care about his tattoos or how good-looking he is. I don’t want him. I absolutely can’t stand him.
My dick is obviously confused by the fighting so I take a step back and take a deep breath.
“Right. Looks like my girlfriend and I are heading out,” I say in a voice that doesn’t quite sound normal. “See you next week, Lawson.”
I don’t flee, exactly, but I head for the main doors, hauling ass to catch up with Bailey.
“You don’t have to escort me home, Drew,” says Bailey for the third time as we climb into the cab. “It’s not like it’s a long ride.”
“I’m not sending you out into the dark by yourself,” I say, also for the third time. “I concede that you are a strong, smart, fully-grown woman who is capable of taking care of herself. But my mother would have my head on a platter if I didn’t at least make sure you got home safely, so do me a favor and knock it off already.”
Bailey snorts, but apparently decides to accept my answer this time. I can tell she’s still pissed; she hasn’t actually looked at me since we left the gala. And that’s pretty fucked up, considering this whole mess is Cooper Lawson’s fault. I mention that as the cab driver navigates us into traffic.
“You’re kidding me, right?” Bailey finally whirls around to face me. “Andrew Hicks, you all but lifted your leg and pissed on me right there in the middle of the ballroom.”
The driver’s bulging eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror.
“He was deliberately provoking me,” I say.
“That’s your excuse?” says Bailey. “Really? ‘He started it?’”
“Well, he did.” Bailey laughs in disbelief. “And for somebody you barely knew so many years ago, you’re awfully quick to defend him,” I say. This has been bugging me all night. Just how well did they know each other?
Not that it’s any of my business. Goddamn it.
The rest of the ride is silent. Bailey’s fuming, and I can’t even blame her. I’m not exactly pleased with myself, even if I managed to hold it together there at the very end. Instead of beating the crap out of our new competition host, I mean.
And if I’m still half-hard from whatever the hell happened back there… chalk it up to adrenaline and all that energy needing somewhere to go. Because there’s sure as hell no other explanation.
The driver pulls up to Bailey’s apartment building and she gets out without a word. Figuring I deserve that much, I pay the man and wave him off. We’re not done talking about this. If I have to, I can walk home from here.
Since she doesn’t lock the door behind her, I follow her inside. Bailey pours herself another glass of wine and points to the cabinet where she keeps her liquor, so I help myself. She sprawls out on one end of the sofa, kicking off her shoes and moaning as she rubs her feet.
“Fucking heels,” she says. Normally I’d crack a joke about the view being worth her pain, but I doubt Bailey’s in the mood to be teased. And maybe I’m not so happy with the way the night played out either. After all, she was my date. What was she doing flirting with him half the night?
“I can practically smell the smoke coming out of your ears,” Bailey says after a minute, head laid back, eyes closed. “Ask me already.”
“Just how well do you know Cooper Lawson?” I ask. I’m hedging—it’s not the question I really want to ask and she knows it.
Bailey sighs. “Coop and I were assigned lab partners freshman year. Intro to Chemistry.”
“I met you that same semester. We were hanging out all the time. How is it possible I didn’t know him, too?”
Bailey shrugs. “You were already in the higher level sciences by then. And it’s not exactly a small school.” She sips her wine and studies the glass. “Plus he looks a lot different than he used to. I barely recognized him tonight.”
How so?
Another question I’m not ready to ask.
