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“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t be,” he grumps.
I shrug and smile. “It was fun. All the blood, the broken bones, the spilled beer.”
He steps closer and his nearness warms my stomach. “You’re kidding me, right?”
I open my mouth to tell him I’m very much not kidding, but I gasp.
I feel it.
A flutter.
Shit. Not here. Not now.
Not when I just bested a bar fight and am talking to a handsome, albeit grumpy, cowboy.
The signs are easy to spot. Black spots in my vision. The heavy beating of my heart echoing in my ears.
“Ruby?” Charlie’s frowning.
“I just—” Breaking away to catch my breath, I close my eyes. I bear down and breathe out strongly through my mouth. A maneuver my doctor taught me to shock my heart back into a normal rhythm.
Slow, I urge my heart.Stay calm. Slow.
In seconds, the heavy beat of my heart slows. The spots clear, the head rush fades.
“Hey.” A warm, broad hand slides down my arm to cup my elbow. “You okay?”
Blinking, I straighten up and brace a palm on the front of Charlie’s hard chest to steady myself.
If I thought it wasn’t possible for his entire body to tense anymore, I was wrong.
“I’m fine,” I assure him, hoping the lie will stick. “Stomach cramp.”
He regards me warily, brows furrowed tight with concern. After a second, he asks, “This bar doesn’t scare you?”
He looks like he hates himself for making small talk, but the hardness along the length of his jaw has me riveted.
“Only thing that scares me is not having a job,” I say brightly. “Think Beef’ll hire me?”
Charlie stares at me a long beat before he shakes his head. “If Beef knows what’s good for him, he won’t.”
I arch a brow, unsure what to make of his answer. “You plan to break his legs or something?”
His eyes narrow. “I might.”
His response has my heart beating faster.
Charlie crosses his arms, causing his biceps to bulge. “Where are you staying tonight?”
“The Yodeler.”
“Not there.” He makes a face like he’s stepped in dog shit. “Go next door to the Butterworth. Tell ‘em I sent you.”
“Care to tell me why?”
“Roaches.”
“What if I like roaches?”
