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“Come on, honey. Let’s have some fun.”
“We were having fun,” I snap. “Until you went and ruined it. Now I want to leave, and you need to move your ass!”
“I’d rather you move your ass.” He wiggles his eyebrows with a dopey, drunken laugh and goes to reach for me again.
Shit! How did I so easily misread the cues? I was having some fun playing pool and completely missing the fact that he was getting wasted.
I try to dodge his hands, but those meaty fingers still manage to give my right butt cheek a little slap.
I growl, shoving him away with two hands this time. He barely moves, and a shot of desperation flares through me. My eyes dart to the people around us, but they’re all busy doing their own thing, oblivious to this altercation I’m having.
Do I start shouting and try to get someone’s attention?
How humiliating would that be?
You don’t need their help. Just grab the pool cue off the table and shove it up his nose!
As much as I’m not an advocate of reckless violence, I’m already reaching for the thing when Mr. Handsy is snatched from behind and thrown away from me.
He lets out this surprised squawk, landing against the edge of the other pool table and disrupting their game. He gets a range of dirty looks, but I miss what they say to him because I’m too busy gaping at the irate bull staring daggers at my pool nemesis and looking ready to end the guy.
Seriously?
I didn’t even see Carson here when I came in.
How did I miss that? I’ve been looking for him every day since he walked me to the Humanities building. I shouldn’t have been, but I couldn’t help myself.
And now he’s standing just a few feet away from me, his sharp nostrils flared, his face the picture of indignant rage as he fists Mr. Handsy’s shirt and pulls him back toward him.
He’s not saying anything… well, not with his mouth anyway. His eyes are doing all the talking, and I know I should tell him to stop and calm down, but there is something so freaking sexy about what he’s doing for me right now.
Nylah! Don’t you dare be some swooning chick! You can look after yourself!
Except maybe this time I don’t want to.
Maybe I want to see what Carson McAvoy is going to do to this creep. It’s almost comical that he’s shorter and leaner than the tree who was trying to stop me from leaving, yet he’s so obviously the stronger of the two. Definitely the more dangerous.
A thrill races down the backs of my legs and I cross my arms, trying and no doubt failing to look unaffected.
Mr. Handsy lets out an edgy laugh. “Chill, McAvoy. I was just having a little fun.”
Carson grunts and shoves him back against the pool table, then looks at me. He tips his head toward the space he just created, and it takes me a second to register what he’s saying.
His look gets a little more pointed and I jolt, nodding and shuffling through the gap.
“Uh… thanks.” I try for a smile but have no idea what my lips are really doing.
He’s dismissing me, which is kind of the same as walking away from me without saying goodbye.
I’m not anything special to this guy. He’s just helping out a girl who couldn’t get a tree trunk to move. He’d do it for anyone in this bar, and that should just make me like him more.
But I turn away with a disappointed sigh.
I’m annoyed with myself for feeling that way.
I shouldn’t be bummed out that a guy who obviously isn’t into me is giving me an easy out. At least he’s not expecting anything in return for his chivalrous behavior.
Reaching the door, I glance back one more time and notice a big blond man walking to the pool table with a frown, and there’s a shorter Black guy with him too. He looks just as pissed, and I hold my breath, pausing by the exit to make sure Carson isn’t about to get pummeled.