Page 4 of Full Out Fiend

Apparently, she can’t take her eyes off me, either. We’re in a stalemate—a sexy, intimate, how-far-can-we-push-this stalemate. It’s rare for a person to actually maintain eye contact when stared at the way I’m homed in on her. This woman really is different from every Jen, Kelly, Caitlen, Nikki, and Jessi in this place.

“We need more shots!” the redhead declares.

I lower my hand and angle my body to hide the single shot I’m still holding. The last thing we need is for these women to connect the dots about who supplied round one. Especially now that I realize it’s the last thing the angel in white—Daphne—wants.

A high-pitched chant of “shots! Shots! Shots!” breaks out as Daphne rolls her eyes. I waggle my brows in reply, fully invested in seeing how this plays out. The smallest hint of a smile teases at the corners of her mouth. My brain instantly goes haywire when I focus on the perfect pink outline of her lips.

“Comeonnn, Daph. You’re supposed to be living it up! Let’s get wasted!” The redhead pulls on Daphne’s arm, disregarding any semblance of boundaries or personal space.

“I’m good. You guys go. I’ll save the table.”

She speaks. Even her voice is angelic—soft and a little raspy. My heart stutters.

“Daph,” the redhead whines.

“I said I’m good,” she insists. The flush of her cheeks deepens, crawling down her neck and painting her chest crimson.

I force myself to look away from the flushed skin along the neckline of her dress.

The redhead stomps one foot as she crosses her arms over her chest. “You’re such a spoil-sport. Just come up to the bar! We’re more likely to get free drinks if the bride is with us.”

I’ve heard enough.

“No means no, Red.”

With a scowl on her face, she opens her mouth, but I whip out my secret weapon before she can argue, smoothly sliding the shot I’ve been harboring under the table to her.

“Here. Drink that, then head up to the bar and tell Jake that I said the next round’s on me, too.”

The redhead doesn’t question a thing—just accepts the random drink from a stranger before biting her bottom lip salaciously and throwing it back

“And who should I say is buying?”

I look back at Daphne, who’s still considering me, before I reply.

“My name’s Fielding. Fielding Haas.”

Chapter 4

Fielding

Thegroupscatters—mostofthem literally abandoning the bride now that free drinks are up for grabs. One girl lingers for a few seconds before Daphne gives her a subtle nod. Within seconds, she and I are standing at the high-top alone.

Awkwardness settles around us.

I should take the hint. A better man would leave her alone. But there’s something about her I can’t turn away from. And I never claimed to be a good man.

“Smoke break?” I joke, tilting my head in question.

“I don’t smoke,” she murmurs, looking away for the first time and tucking her thick dark hair behind her ear.

“I don’t, either. Do you trust me?”

She doesn’t reply. But she doesn’t object. I take her teetering at face value. What do I have to lose?

Reaching for her hand, I smirk in satisfaction when she lets me pull her away from the table. “Come on,” I insist as I navigate through the crowd and out the front door.

I hold on to her until we’re rounding the corner, ducking into the narrow alley between The Oak and Clinton’s, the restaurant next door.