Those callouses. The rough patches felt good, the way they grazed her flesh. She pulled her hand away.
She was grateful the bartender returned just then with another bourbon.
“If I tell you what I think you want to know, will you make this your last?” he asked.
“And what is it you think I want to know?”
He leaned in, his lips close to her ear. “I got thrown two levels below the level you were thrown.”
She smiled and then laughed so hard tears filled her eyes. Fearing they would spill over and down her cheeks, she drew a deep breath and swallowed that third bourbon.
She sighed.
I’ll be able to sleep now.
“Okay, Sir Clarke, let’s go.”
He blinked. “Sir Clarke, is it? No more Sir Stick, etc.?”
She grinned. “Don’t press your luck.”
They hadn’t gone but a few steps before a man stepped in front of her. “Ceci! Don’t tell me you don’t remember me?”
She didn’t.
“Uh …”
“I recognized you as soon as I saw you up on that bull. We rode that bull together, remember?”
She heard Clarke sigh. Casting a swift glance over her shoulder, she saw that same expression he’d had in the men’s room at the Royal Horseguards Hotel.
He looks like he’s being forced to endure the smell of steaming cabbage. Like this is an assault on his refined sensibilities. Like I am.
The man placed a hand on Ceci’s waist. “Wanna ride again?”
Clarke reached from behind and disengaged the man’s hand. “Keep your hands off her.”
Ceci stiffened. Feeling the anger rise, she drew a deep breath.
I don’t want this man’s hands on me. Clarke’s only looking out for me. So why does it piss me off so much?
Maybe it has something to do with his tone—it matches the look on his face. And he’s still so damn polite. Even now. Heaven forbid, Sir Stick make a scene. Or I do.
Ceci swung around. “What do you think you’re doing?”
He looked shocked, but not in a way that suggested surprise. More like he couldn’t believe she had the audacity to ask him such a question.
He leaned in, his face so close, his breath made the curls that framed her face flutter when he spoke. “Do you want this asshole’s hands on you? Is that what you’re telling me?”
His tone was measured, but he looked angry.
“You would draw that conclusion, wouldn’t you? How about this? I’m telling you I don’t need your help. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
She turned back to the man. “Don’t put your hands on me again. How would you like it if I put my hands on you without an invitation?”
He opened his arms wide. “Go right ahead, doll.”
“How would you like it if I grabbed your balls and squeezed so hard your teeth hurt?”
