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One of the guys at the end of the bar nudged his buddy, who looked at Hadley’s disappearing back, and then got up, following in the direction she’d gone.
Shit.
Did I mind my own business or did I go after her, just to make sure she was okay?
I mumbled something about having to take a leak and went back to the restrooms. Hadley was against the wall, the guy who’d followed her loosely boxing her in with one hand against the wall just to her right and the other reaching for her. Hadley swatted his hand away, shaking her head. The guy laughed, lowering his head as if he were going to kiss her and Hadley shoved at his chest.
That was all I needed to see and I reached out, yanking the guy away by the back of his shirt.
“Hey!” He swung around, poised for a fight, but the minute he saw me he stepped back.
“Is there a problem here?” I asked, leveling my gaze at him.
“Oh, hey, Kirby, sorry, I didn’t realize she was yours.” The guy nodded at me and headed away at a fast clip.
“What the hell was that?” Hadley demanded, glaring at me.
“I thought he was hassling you,” I protested. “I was just trying to help.”
“I can take care of myself,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “This isn’t my first night out in the big city. Guys hit on me all the time.”
“Oh, well, excuse the fuck out of me for trying to be a nice guy.”
“Ha!” She rolled her eyes. “There isn’t a single nice thing about you, Wes Kirby. In the future, mind your own business!”
“Absolutely,” I said, throwing up my hands. “Next time, I’ll be sure to let the creep from the bar assault you. No skin off my teeth.” I shook my head and stalked back out to the bar. She was truly the world’s biggest pain in the ass.
Chapter Eight
Hadley
“Can I push the button?” Annalise asked, her eyes wide with excitement.
I double-checked to make sure the lid on Lauren’s food processor was locked, pointed to the Start button and said, “Yes, it’s this one right here.”
“I know, Mommy always lets me push the button.”
She stood on the chair she’d scooted over to the kitchen counter and pushed the button, and the food processor started to whir, running a lot quieter than I’d expected. Annalise watched as the avocado chunks in the blender swirled into a puree.
“This isn’t hard,” I said to her. “It feels like it’s going to be a huge deal, but you just have to get organized first and clean as you go.”
I’d been at it since Wes left for practice this morning, moving Benny from his stationary jumper to his swing to keep him happy, and occasionally holding him against my hip and having him sample the different baby foods I’d made.
Jars of pureed blueberries, chickpeas, green beans, kiwis and bananas lined the marble kitchen island. I was taking photos for my article about making homemade baby food, not even feeling guilty I had the Disney Channel on in the family room for when Annalise got bored and wanted a break from the kitchen.
It was Tuesday, so Tori wasn’t on nanny duty today. The kids and I were in no hurry to get out of our jammies, and I felt better than I had in a while.
Here I was, actually multitasking. Accomplishing childcare and work and feeling like I actually could find a way to do it all. With an assist from coffee, of course.
* * *
I could admit to myself that my good mood was partially due to Wes kissing me last night.
I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was so much more than just good. There were many words that were more accurate. Hot. Raw. Heart-stopping. The whole world had stopped for those few seconds, and all I’d felt was heat and muscle and the primal need coming not just from Wes, but from myself, too.
My world had never stopped turning before last night. Not once. I’d been that woman who was always thinking. Even during sex. I struggled to fall asleep at night, no matter how tired I was, because my mind was always on.
Last night, though, Wes Kirby had brought everything to an unexpected and mind-blowing halt. It had taken a long time to wind down from all the different emotions he’d made me feel. And this morning when I woke up, that kiss was the first thing I’d thought of.
When he’d looked at me with that swollen, stitched-up cut above his eye, I’d seen far more emotional hurt than physical. His eyes had flashed dark indigo, full of pent-up grief, anger and tension. In that moment, Wes needed me.
As I drained the sweet potatoes I’d peeled and boiled, I wondered what might have happened if Annalise hadn’t interrupted us last night. Would either of us have seen reason and stopped the madness, or would we have ended up fucking right on the kitchen island where I was now lining up baby food?
