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Glancing up, I found the same redheaded curler from earlier sliding onto the stool next to me.
He’d swapped out his sweats and t-shirt from practice for a black button down and I couldn’t help but notice the flex of his arms as he lifted a hand to get the bartender’s attention.
He was built like a truck, and if I had been the me before the Olympics I would have immediately turned on my signature Ciara Callaghan charm.
Instead I frowned at my drink and shook my head. “No? Why?”
A huff of laughter rumbled out of him. “Because every time you take a drink you make a face.”
“I do not,” I told him primly, taking another sip of my drink for good measure. “See?”
The man lifted his pointer and brushed it in between my eyebrows, smoothing out the furrow that I hadn’t realized had formed. “Really?”
I was torn between leaning into the man’s touch and jerking away, eventually picking the latter.
“Can I help you with something or do you make a habit of bothering women drinking alone?” I asked getting ready to stand and tell Maeve I was going to head out for the night.
The man didn’t seem put off by the sharpness in my voice, in fact, it seemed to energize him.
“Leith Dougall.” He pointed at himself and then at me. “Ciara Callaghan.”
“Is this some weird ‘me Tarzan, you Jane’ pick-up line?” I asked, pushing down the sudden bubble of laughter in my chest. I didn’t need to give him any more ammunition for his misguided flirting attempts.
Even if he was cute, I wasn’t going to allow myself to touch thanks to my self-imposed penance. But it seemed my visitor was a stubborn one.
“If it works, then it works,” he said, shrugging as his grin widened even more.
“Well, it doesn’t.”
It felt good to see my comment wipe the self-satisfied smirk off of his face. I shot him a sharp, toothy smile before slipping off of the stool and disappearing into the crowd.
I was halfway through the club when I felt his presence behind me and one glance over my shoulder confirmed that I was being pursued by the bulky curler.
It should have irritated me. I’d verbally castrated men for less, but instead an odd thrill shot through me at the thought of being chased.
Every one of my words had been sharp, and quite frankly, mean, but that didn’t seem to put Leith Dougall off. No, instead he was on my tail and it sent an excited shiver down my spine.
Stepping out into the crisp night air, people swirled around us, but at this moment I wasn’t sure if they actually existed or not or if the man behind me and I had stepped into our own little dimension.
Then I got my first true taste of his scent.
Crisp and sweet, the man smelled of fresh granny smith apples. It was mouth-watering to say the least and I very nearly pressed my nose to his neck upon turning to face him.
He was an alpha—like me—but that did little to cool the sudden wave of desire washing through me.
“What do you want?” I asked, swallowing down hard to keep myself from seeking out that apple scent even more.
Green eyes met mine and I sucked in a shocked breath at the lust I saw reflected in them.
“I think you know what I want,” he murmured, his words practically a mush in my ears.
Squaring my shoulders, I tossed my hair and tilted my chin defiantly up at him. “I don’t think you can handle me.”
The corner of Leith’s mouth pulled up into a dry smirk. “I think you’re going to be very surprised at how much I can handle, wee one.”
I blinked with surprise. It had been ages since anyone had dared to call me small. I towered over everyone in my family except the dads and most of the figure skaters could fit in my pocket.
But next to Leith Dougall, I must have looked positively tiny.
