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It’d been a long time—too long—since he’d been with a woman. Even longer since a woman made him pause to take a longer look. He’d stopped looking when he got clean a year ago. Because drugs and sex had been his thing to calm the chaos running rampant inside. When he decided to knock the drugs off, he told himself the sex had to go, too. It’d been a hard, long year. As each day went by, the not looking, taking a second glance at women got harder and harder, but he resisted and didn’t falter.
Until now.
The scowl on her face said she wasn’t as infatuated by him as he was by her.
“Welcome to The Corner Bar. What can I get ya?”
Her eyes pinned to Amelie hanging on his chest.
“Amelie, for starters.”
His hand darted to the small of his daughter’s back, putting a light amount of pressure but not enough to wake her up.
“I don’t know who the hell you are, but you’re not her mother.”
Based on the roundabout age of his daughter, he knew he slept with Amelie’s mother during his drug days. Toward the end of it, but that didn’t mean it had been a tame time. He’d been high as a kite until he stopped cold turkey. Despite being high and under the influence, he’d never forget being with a woman.
And not this gorgeous—irate—creature before him. He never forgot a face.
Her eyes narrowed. She slapped her hand to the counter, pinning a piece of paper to it.
“Please hand her over. Don’t make this hard for both of us.”
This time he narrowed his eyes.
No way in hell. He couldn’t have been that high to not remember sleeping with this woman. Names weren’t always good for him, but faces never failed him. He knew he wouldn’t forget having sex with her. Even now, annoyed with her demands, he wanted to reach across the bar and take one taste of her sweet, luscious lips. Maybe it would even spark a memory, confirming what she insisted was true.
He grabbed for the paper, but she wouldn’t budge.
“Let me see this.”
“Hand her over first.”
They stared at one another for the longest time, neither moving their hands from the document.
“Well?”
“It’ll be a cold day in hell before I hand my daughter over to you.”
A muscle in her cheek twitched, yet she didn’t cave.
They continued to stare at each other. Not moving. Not speaking. Not even blinking.
“Hey, Corey, I need you,” Tamara hollered from the other end of the bar.
He didn’t turn around. “You gotta wait.”
“Make this easy on yourself. You only have one choice.” Her voice quivered.
He wasn’t sure whether she was ready to cry or jump the counter and pry Amelie from his chest, but the emotions crawling everywhere said she was struggling to hold it together.
“Just because you walk into my bar, claiming shit, doesn’t mean I’m going to take your word for it. Do I look like an idiot? I know the women I’ve slept with before, and you sure in the hell weren’t one of them. I don’t forget a pretty face.”
She flinched. He regretted revealing that.
He’d been with a lot of women in his life. Too many that it was embarrassing to even think about. But not once—nor would he ever—forget sleeping with a woman. Despite the evil glare she was still laser beaming his way, he knew he’d never forget a woman as beautiful as her. High cheekbones. Soft-looking skin. Those damn pink kissable lips that were still straight and rigid, the anger seething like she was ready to take a sharp bite out of him. He didn’t mind some kinky sex now and again. Yet, the vulnerability simmering in her depths. The slight watery look like she was holding back a dam of tears. So angry she wanted to cry?
“The hazards of being high, I guess.” Then she lifted her hand from the paper with a haughty sneer.
