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However, as soon as I discreetly try to look inside the gift shop, my eyes lock on a pair of light brown ones.
Eve Taylor is as beautiful as the last day I saw her, rolling out of my bed as I tried explaining my no-workplace-relationship policy to her.
She was furious, and I was extremely hungover. Enough that whatever she threw at my head in her rage actually made contact.
As her stunning eyes scowl at me, my hand automatically goes to the side of my head where I am pretty sure she left a scar from that one-night stand five years ago.
Eve was a bartender at one of my first clubs. She was excellent at her job.
Her husky voice, paired with that Southern accent, had men climbing over each other to get her to talk to them. Not that she ever cared for any of them.
No.
Eve and I started off as friends, and there was always something more simmering just under the surface.
Heated glances, lingering touches.
A tall woman with curves so deadly that when she would leave the room, I would have to force my eyes away from the way her ass sashayed. But there was more to her than her looks. She was studying law and working part-time at the club. She had brains, a sharp tongue, and a stunning smile that often had me catching my breath.
She also had a famous temper.
One night, when a leering man groped her as she was finishing up her shift, she calmly picked up a bottle of my best vodka off the shelf and then smashed it against his head.
So, when she narrows her eyes at me right now, I don’t know what to expect from her.
She was always unpredictable.
“You look well.” My eyes rake over her form. A red blouse that is modest as well as flirty, and a pair of blue shorts that reveal tanned legs that go on forever. Her long dark hair is tied in a messy bun on top of her head, and aside from the dark red lipstick, she wears no makeup.
Her lips thin and I see another emotion aside from shock in her eyes.
Fear.
Why on earth would Eve be scared of me?
r /> “Wolfe, why are you here?”
From her tone, I can sense some hostility.
It was five years ago.
Wasn’t that enough time to get over something like this?
I mean, I know screwed up. But I was piss drunk that morning, and it was just the two of us at the club as she was cleaning up.
And she didn’t exactly tell me to stop when I grabbed her by that tiny waist and slammed my mouth on hers.
A mouth that still looks luscious and extremely bitable.
However, I have more important things to tend to. As in, answering her question.
“Philip’s having a baby.”
I feel her form still at the words and I wonder at the reasoning behind that.
She glances around and takes a step back, a hint of nerves reflecting in her eyes. “Oh. Well, I have to go. Nice catching up.”
She moves to the second aisle, and I mirror her movement, frowning. “Hey, what—?”
