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Nine
Dean lowered his beer to the counter, not sure he wanted to hear any more of what Sarah had to say. “First you jump my bones, and now you tell me your friend is too good for me? If that’s the case, what does that make you?”
Confusing, and now apparently mean. I thought I’d read her better.
Granted, he didn’t fear her threat to “break his fingers”, but the brutal barb about Ally being too good for him… That harsh statement left a reverberating tension between them, and now she clamped her mouth shut, her unreadable stare bouncing around his face.
He was used to having cruelty lobbed at him in the shape of more subversive digs—attempts to ruin his life with untrue claims, attempts to dismantle his happiness one piece at a time, cowardly attempts committed behind his back… But not like this. Not so brazen or direct.
She gawped at him, her cheeks slack, and her skin pale. “Sorry. I’m so sorry. That just kinda fell out.”
He leaned in closer and inspected her, his movements slow with the intent to unnerve.
“Really?” He kept his tone low and steady. “So, you didn’t mean a single word?”
Her gaze flicked to the side, a hint she’d meant at least some of it.
A sigh pushed past his lips, and he sat back, pitching forth a flat stare. “Right, and is it safe to assume you’re usually this rude to people you’re not sleeping with?”
Her slack mouth drew closed and formed a hard and twisted line, her glare lasting only a moment before her focus flicked about her, like she worried someone might have heard. “Okay, fine, I deserved that. And no, I’m not usually so rude.”
He sank back a little, nodding through the mutual quiet. He partly wished to add to her discomfort, partly wanted to watch her, to figure her out. Apologies didn’t come all that easily to this woman. Because he was getting to know her and, therefore, hadn’t fully decided what he thought, he didn’t feel all that inclined to make her apology easy.
He captured his beer and took another sip, maintaining an unaffected air. “What makes you Ally’s gatekeeper? Shouldn’t she be allowed to decide who and what she wants?”
Her gaze, luminescent against the dark bar atmosphere, narrowed on him, momentarily hard until a softer light seeped in. “She’s a small-town girl who thinks spending time with you will be a bit of harmless fun. But before the week’s done, she’ll be infatuated, and then she’ll be in love. I’m guessing you’re not interested in any of that, much less the wedding and three babies she’ll be planning for you in no time.”
His stomach jolted with a wayward laugh, but he clamped his lips together and buried his amusement. “Sure, I don’t want any of that.”
Lies. He wanted all of that. Not necessarily with Ally, and especially not since marriage and kids were for people other than him, people not forced to live on society’s fringes.
Despite her crossed arms, her shoulders crept higher. “You mess with my friends, you mess with me. One of the things everyone around here loves about Ally is she’s the bubbly one. I’m sure I’m not the only one who doesn’t want her to lose that or to see her brokenhearted. My earlier insult was a meaner way of saying you seem like someone well-traveled, while Ally isn’t. The odds here aren’t even.”
He raised a brow, masking any unconvinced displeasure. “You sound so certain I’d go out of my way to hurt her.”
He could understand how his staying in Harlow might leave Sarah with doubts about his honesty. He also got the feeling his presence wasn’t her only issue. Her analytical stare measured his every move, as though she searched for any old reason not to trust him. So of course, he gave her nothing and waited for her to fill the stretching silence.
“I don’t know you well enough to say.” She shrugged, giving a weak performance of being unperturbed. “I made a promise to look out for her when my brother left town. He and Ally were close.”
She stepped away a moment and grabbed a paper ticket from the bar’s farther end, a ticket presumably with a long drinks order since she proceeded to work the taps in front of him.
Meanwhile, he twisted his glass, dragging out a deliberate pause. “So, your concerns about me and Ally are based on nothing more than a promise to your brother?”
“Yes.” Her gaze didn’t meet his.
He continued staring at his glass. “Is that all?”
“That’s all.”
Her answer came too fast, and he smirked.
“The way I see it”—he peered across at her stacking filled drinks onto a black tray—“if your brother cared, he’d be here looking out for Ally himself. That, or take her with him.”
Maybe why I haven’t left Harlow, even though Anthony Stucco being dead means I have no reason to stay. No reason, except Sarah.
He drew a sharp breath, refusing to think too hard on his motivations beyond following his gut instinct to stay a while longer. He was taking an educated guess that the syndicate wouldn’t want to implicate themselves by looking for him in this town—the very place Anthony’s crimes had taken place. He liked this town. Liked the woman standing before him. Whether that “like” was a wise idea remained to be seen.
She disappeared to the opposite corner again, this time carrying the drinks tray, a server quick to take that tray out to the tables. When she returned, all she offered was a mumbled, “Things aren’t that simple.”
