Page 28 of Striking Range

As if he’s already promising this man a pure, soft canvas to destroy.

In this moment, he is not a venomous snake who is poised and set to strike, and he is not my little puppy, curled up to rest on my lap after a long, hard day.

This version of Skylar is not stuffed into the folder I have dedicated just to him, hiding away in the back of my mind. I do not know him, and it scares me.

“Excuse me for a moment.” I cut Ashley off, unaware if she was actually talking anymore.

With several large steps, I approach the bar just as the napkin is being placed firmly into Skylar’s open palm. Their fingers brush.

“Hey.”

Skylar startles at the sound of my voice, his cheeks darkening even further as he shoves the napkin into the front pocket of his jeans. The giant turns his attention to me, and I actually have to tilt my head back slightly to meet his gaze.

Vivid green eyes, dark brows—shit, he’s handsome!

“Hey, man,” he says, voice deep and husky.

“Everett,” Skylar prompts, his eyes wide like he’s just been caught stealing from the figurative cookie jar.

“What are you doing?” The question leaves me far too accusatory, far more interested than I intend it to be.

“None of your business,” he replies hastily, his eyes narrowed and cruel. Skylar watches me for a moment before he adds, “This is Jacob; we just met.”

I turn back to this Jacob character, mostly to avoid Skylar’s vicious stare.

“Everett.” I extend a hand in greeting, and he grabs it in his larger one with a grip that’s most definitely tighter than necessary.

God, can he lose the macho man act?

“Well, nice to meet you, Everett.” He releases me before turning back to Skylar, reaching across the counter to grab the four shots. “Skylar, pleasure to meet you. I’d really, really like that call.”

With a lazy grin, he struts away, back to the small round table that is crowded by three other ridiculously sized men.

“Call?” I prompt Skylar, who’s wiping the bar.

His eyes meet mine, cheeks still blazing red, but his face gives nothing else away as he stares back at me. “Yes, call.”

“Why? For what?”

An exasperated sigh escapes him. “Why does it matter, Evie? I’m working.”

“Oh, so you can stop working to talk to Jacob, but not me?”

I am aware that I sound like a child; that I resemble a kid throwing taunts on the playground after class. I must appear jealous and possessive and all of the other perfectly horrible things that I truly am in this moment.

Skylar’s eyes narrow once again, no longer the picture of innocence and desperation but disgust and rage. “What’s your fucking problem? So what, I met someone who wants me to call them. Get over it.”

“For what? Call him for what?” I demand, but truthfully, it sounds a bit too close to pleading.

There is a long, uncomfortable stretch of silence where he just stares at me, all anger and tension.

Then, someone calls out for a drink, and he swallows harshly, spitting out, “I’m working, and it’s none of your business. Go hang out with your new friends and leave me alone.”

He walks off to serve someone else, and I’m left alone.

I do not go back to my new friends. I find Kelly, who is with a group of Sinclair kids I’m not super familiar with, and slide into the seat next to her.

“What was that?” she asks as soon as my ass touches the cushion.