Page 58 of It Should Have Been You

I roll my eyes and frown.

Her smile only grows wider.

Twelve

As I push open the door to the bar, I survey the room, taking in the sea of people packed tightly together. My eyes settle on the stage in the corner, being loaded with the band’s equipment. The bar is already jam packed.

Bethany Rose tugs at my arm, shouting over the crowd. “How did you do that?”

“Do what?” I ask, looking down to see her eyes wandering to every corner before falling back on me.

“The line is a mile long out there. You just nodded at the doormen, and they parted like the red sea.”

“They know me.”

She opens her mouth, but quickly snaps it shut again, eyeing me like I’ve performed magic.

“Let’s go,” I urge, already growing annoyed with the rowdy groups swarming like flies.

This isn’t my scene. I prefer a quiet bar, a cold beer, and for no one to speak to me. Being around this many people—drunk people—makes me itchy.

I grab her hand, feeling how small it is in mine. She tenses like she did earlier but doesn’t let go. Pulling her to my side, I guide her through the crowd. She’s lucky I do because she’s not even watching where she’s going, wide eyes darting everywhere. She’s an accident waiting to happen.

I know the rest of the guys are here somewhere, but I saw the way Ace looked at her. I don’t have a problem admitting I’m a selfish bastard. I want to keep her a while longer.

Reaching the bar, I pull her in front of me, resting my arms on the counter at either side and caging her against it. Hands can begin to wander in crowds like this—other men’s hands—and I don’t feel like fighting tonight.

She came here with me, she’s my responsibility.

Tilting her head back against my chest, she rolls her eyes.

I lean close to her ear to ask, “What do you want to drink?”

“Um.” She chews her bottom lip between her teeth, assessing her options.

“Are you always so indecisive? It’s a drink. Choose one. You don’t like it. Choose another.” In the mirror behind the bar, I see her rolling her eyes again. “If you do that anymore, they’re going to roll out of your head. Choose a drink.”

Our eyes lock in the mirror and despite the frown, the corners of her lips shake with a threatening smile. She stills when I reach around her body, press my thumb to her chin, and pull her lip away from the hold of her bite.

She glares.

It’s fucking beautiful.

“Just a beer,” she says, her breath sweeping across my wrist before I let go.

Looking up, I see a very familiar platinum blonde bartender traipsing our way.

For fuck’s sake. Am I to introduce Bethany Rose to every woman I’ve slept with?

It’s in this moment, I curse myself for not paying closer attention when the bartender told me her name. Didn’t really need it when I had that platinum ponytail wrapped around my fist.

Smile fixed in place, she throws a towel over her shoulder. “Logan King,” she says slowly. “What can I get for you, handsome?”

I almost grunt in response. I don’t do small talk and I’m definitely not in the mood for it. “Two beers.”

Looking up at me under hooded lids, she leans close. “You never called.”

“I never wanted to.”

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