Page 8 of Stockholm (Angel of Mercy #1)

Jesse grabs Bo’s hand, pulling him close and gripping his hips as he leads him out to the dance floor. There’s a hunger in the air surrounding these two, and I can’t help but feel envy. Eric’s never touched me in such a possessive way. It was always soft, always sweet.

Like I could break if he wanted me too much.

“Here, is this better?” I hear Dean ask, and he moves to slide into the other side of the booth so that we’re facing each other. “I’ll be a gentleman and keep you company since these two have abandoned you to me.”

My eyes dart up to his wolfish expression.

His words shouldn’t turn me on, this is wrong. Masculinity drips from everything he does, every move he makes, and the thought of being left to him in any way has my many dreams of him resurfacing in my head.

I shake them away. He’s just being polite. I can do the same and then run for it as soon as Bo is ready to leave.

“Thanks, it’s better than sitting here by myself, I guess.”

“Not exactly an enthusiastic response, but that’s fine. You know, you could go and dance or something. You don’t have to be stuck with me.”

The thought is mortifying. “I don’t dance.”

He’s watching me again. Like he could learn everything about me through the few words I share. “Why’s that? ”

I shake my head, searching for the correct answer. “I—I just don’t. I don’t like people watching me. That kind of attention freaks me out.”

“What kind of attention do you like?” he asks, his eyes doing the darkening thing again and I take another sip of my drink.

“None, I guess.” The answer seems important to him, and he nods.

“Where’s your husband now? I’m surprised he’s not with you.”

“Business trip. And we don’t usually do stuff like this. Like I said, this is kind of new.”

“Hmm,” he starts, stretching back against the seat. “And he’ll be back Monday?”

I nod, and he looks away.

Silence falls at the table for a moment, and it makes me squirm. I’m making it weird, somehow. I just know it.

“Sorry, I know this probably isn’t the night you were hoping for. You should go hang out with Jesse. I really need to be getting home anyway.”

He raises his eyebrows, taking me in. “You can’t drive like this.”

Holding up my phone, I show him the Uber app. “I won’t be.”

A large hand lands on the top of the phone and pushes it down to the table. Looking up at the man across from me, he shakes his head. “I can take you home.”

For the briefest of moments, my thoughts play that out. Getting into his truck, sitting next to him in the small space as we made our way out to the rural place outside of town where my house was built. Having this man in my driveway, saying goodbye in the car.

The butterflies taking flight in my stomach are all I need to answer him. “That’s not a good idea.”

He keeps me locked in that eye contact, like he’s reading my soul. I wonder what he finds there, when a small smile tilts his mouth. “No. I think you might be right about that.”

I hate myself for the disappointment I feel.

This. Is. Not. Me.

Standing, I reach for my purse. “Do you mind telling Bo I had to leave? I’m sorry, I know this is weird. ”

“Stop apologizing,” Dean says, but they are the softest words he’s spoken to me, and I glance again at his face.

“Right, sorry. So—I mean, ugh.” I scoot out of the booth, frustrated at myself. How I’m making myself look. How he must be thinking of me. Like I’m just the wallflower who can’t string a sentence together without panicking and running from the building.

A hand grabs mine, and my eyes widen.

“I can see you want to run away, Emma, but you don’t have to. I don’t mind staying in this corner with you if that’s where you feel comfortable. Please?”

My jaw clenches. It shouldn’t feel like life or death, his request. I’m married. I shouldn’t be here, with this stranger grabbing my hand, asking me to stay.

I shouldn’t want to consider it.

Shaking my head, I tug my hand free. “Sorry, I have to get home.”

Rushing for the door, I burst through it into the street. The night air feels good on my flushed skin, and I start walking to the corner where my Uber is set to pick me up.

Relief weighs heavy on me. Thank god I left. I’m out of the bar, I’m going home. It’s going to be okay. It will just be me and Molly in our quiet house.

It will feel good. It will feel normal .

I hate how off center these last few weeks have made me. Changes are taking place in Eric’s world, so why is it my life that feels it’s been thrown to the wind?

Tomorrow, I’ll force everything back to normal.

Saturday. Bo and I have one short morning shift at the bank and then Eric will be home.

Everything will go back to the way it’s supposed to be.

My routines, my schedules. Tucked safely back into my house, where I feel peace instead of this chaotic desire thumping in my heart.

Not desire. That’s not what I meant.

Finally the car arrives, and I slide into the backseat, shutting the door behind me. The driver pulls away from the curb and I press my forehead to the glass .

Dean stands outside the bar, leaning back against the glass window, watching as I pass by.