Текст книги "Love Hate Relationship"
Автор книги: Jessica Prince
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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 16 страниц)
Since that strange morning when I woke up in Rowan’s bed, things seemed to have gone back to normal. Well, normal-ish. I didn’t think anything about our interactions would be considered normal to the outside world, but it worked for us. He was still an unbending asshole most of the time. I was still a smartass whenever the opportunity arose. And with him being an unbending asshole, the opportunity arose a lot. But there was one major shift between us that I found myself enjoying more than I should have. We laughed. All the time. We made jokes, we teased, we pushed each other’s buttons. And it was fun. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed so much with a man. It was as if we understood each other on a deeper level, in a way I refused to let myself overanalyze.
He still touched me whenever there was a chance. Those touches could have still been considered less than professional, but I didn’t have it in me to fight any longer. I didn’t want to. I was skating a very slippery slope, craving those touches like a junky craved their next fix. My body reacted to everything about Rowan. His voice, his presence, his smell. There wasn’t one thing about him that didn’t turn me on in some way. I was in Hell, but damn if I wasn’t absolutely loving every minute of it.
The only downside was, in the evenings when I had to go home and give myself the talk. I spent an hour every night, standing in front of my mirror, reminding myself not to look too hard, feel too much. I had to keep my guard up. I had to be strong, because when that hurt came… and it most definitely would, I needed to be prepared. My life had never been easy. And I’d have been the most stupid of fools to forget that. I went to bed every single night telling myself that Rowan Locklaine hurting me eventually would not break me. But the fear was always there, buried down deep where I could ignore it whenever I chose to.
But I was tough. I could handle it. If I just kept telling myself that, it would eventually become the truth… right?
It had to.
“What are you doing?”
“Jesus, Rowan!” I yelped, my entire body jolting, nearly sending my laptop crashing onto the floor. He was right there, leaning over the arm of the couch behind me, his handsome face only an inch or two away from me. And I hadn’t heard him coming. “You scared the shit outta me!”
“Sorry.” He chuckled with a grin that said he was anything but sorry. Before standing to his full height and moving around the couch, he leaned in to plant a kiss on the tip of my nose. That was another development in the week that had followed waking up in his bed. Rowan’s lips seemed to find themselves on my body at least three times a week. For the most part, the pecks were somewhat platonic, but that didn’t stop my body from damn near overheating every single time he did it.
“So, what are you doing?” His large frame plopped down onto the other end of the couch, causing me to bounce. Before I had a chance to bend my knees to move my feet out of the way, his long fingers wrapped around my ankles, pulling my feet onto his lap like it was the most casual, normal thing in the world.
“What’s it look like I’m doing?” I responded snidely, trying to camouflage the fact that my heart felt like it was about to beat right out of my chest. A smart woman would have yanked her feet back, creating much-needed space. But smart flew right out the damn window when it came to Rowan. “I’m working. Something you should be doing. Or is your book going to write itself?”
“Needed to take a break. I wouldn’t want to exhaust my creative genius, now, would I?”
“Hmmm,” I mumbled noncommittally before adding in a sarcastic, “Sure.”
“You know, maybe you wouldn’t be such a smartass if you just read my books. Then you’d understand what all the hype’s about.”
Focusing my unseeing gaze on the computer screen, I tried my hardest to keep from giggling as I responded with a casual, “Not my taste, sorry.” It was so hard not to laugh every time we fell into that particular discussion. My unwillingness to read anything other than my go-to genres—romance, romance, and more romance—irked Rowan like you wouldn’t believe. And I loved mashing at those buttons, watching him briefly lose it. I’d lost count of how many times we’d argued over my refusal to read his murder/mystery series.
“Jesus, you’re such a girl,” he said with an annoyed grumble.
“So kind of you to notice,” I deadpanned, eyes still on my work.
“Oh, I definitely noticed,” he said with a low, deep rasp.
Making the conscious effort to ignore the sultry tone of his voice, I pushed forth with my typical smartass attitude. The combination of his tone, the way he was still touching me, and the fluttering in my belly at the easy way we were with each other was sensory overload, and I needed to put a stop to it before I melted into his comfy sofa. “Besides,” I started, switching gears in order to shift the mood in the room. “I heard those books were sooo boring. Why waste my time?”
Those crystal-clear, blue eyes narrowed on mine just as his agile fingers prodded at the soles of my feet. “Agh! Stop!” I screamed as he continued to tickle me, writhing around on the couch, trying to get away, holding on to my laptop the best I could. “Stop! Stop! I’m sorry!” I cackled and snorted, failing to break his hold on me.
“You take it back?”
“I take it back! I take it back!” I giggled maniacally. “I was just kidding!” Finally, thank God, he stopped and I was able to suck in a much needed breath as my laughter died down.
The minutes bled together as we fell into a comfortable silence, my eyes refocused on my work as Rowan’s focus rested on the TV screen. I wasn’t sure how long had passed before his deep voice broke through the silence.
“What the hell are you watching?”
I looked up at the TV and back to him. “Chrisley Knows Best.”
He studied the show for a few more seconds, his midnight brows pulled together in a furrow. “Why’s that gay dude feeling up on that woman?”
“Todd Chrisley’s not gay!”
“Oh, babe,” he laughed. “He’s totally gay.”
“He is not! That’s his wife. And those are his kids. See?” I flailed my arm at the screen. “He’s so not gay.”
Rowan turned to me, his expression one a grown-up would use on a naïve child. “Any man who uses the term ‘retweet’ out loud is gay. Sorry to burst your bubble, but that woman’s his beard.”
“Stop ruining reality TV for me, ass-face! Don’t you have a boring-ass book to write?”
He glared at me as I burrowed back behind my computer. “You really don’t want to stay employed, do you? First rule of being a personal assistant is you don’t shit on your boss’s work.”
I smiled sweetly. “I’d never shit on Lauren’s work. I think she’s fabulous.”
That earned me another chuckle as we fell back into our routine, me working, Rowan pointing out every single thing that could possibly prove the man on TV to be gay. I refused to believe it.
As I scrolled through Rowan’s emails, responding or deleting as necessary, something caught my eye. “Hey, who’s Bree Vincent?” The moment the question passed my lips, Rowan’s entire frame locked up tight.
All humor had fled his features as he looked at me, and I felt a chill race up my spine from the ice in his gaze. The warmth disappeared, replaced by the frigid cold I hadn’t seen since the first weeks of us working together.
“What did you say?”
“Uh… Bree Vincent?” I repeated hesitantly. “There’s, like, six emails from her in the past two days.” I tried for a lighthearted laugh as I asked, “She a crazy stalker fan or something?” but it fell flat.
“Or something,” he responded in a low, menacing voice as he removed my feet from his lap and stood from the couch. “Delete them,” he demanded as he started from the living room.
I couldn’t tell you why I insisted on pushing. Every fiber in my body rallied against it, but my curiosity forced me to push him further. “But don’t you want to know what they say? I mean, the woman’s pretty insistent. Maybe she’s a reporter or something—”
“I said fucking delete them!” he bellowed, startling me enough that I jerked back. A combination of emotions played out on his face as he raked both his hands through his hair in severe agitation and began a short, clipped pace. The anger, I recognized; it was the other one I was unsure of. Was it pain… sorrow? I couldn’t quite tell, and that ate at my insides. “Please, Navie. Just… just listen to me, okay. For once, don’t argue. Just do your fucking job.”
His words were harsh, cutting, and my normal reaction would have been to spit venom right back at him. But something stopped me. My gut told me there was a reason for his overreaction, that I shouldn’t take it personally, that this wasn’t a battle I should pick. So I went against my nature and gave him a quick nod. “Okay,” I whispered.
Without another word, he stormed from the room. I waited until I heard the slam of his office door before turning back to the computer sitting in my lap. My fingers didn’t hesitate once as I highlighted each of the emails and did a hard delete, ensuring they disappeared completely.
We didn’t talk about it.
Other than a quick apology for his behavior, Rowan and I never mentioned the emails or Bree again. A week passed, and every time a new one showed up in his inbox, I did the same thing I’d done with all the others, deleted them. I never told him. He never asked. Despite how badly I wanted to know, I forced myself to push all thoughts of Bree to the back of my mind, telling myself it was none of my business. We carried on like it had never happened. And I tried to convince myself that everything was fine… even though I knew it wasn’t.
That was how I ended up at Pepper’s boutique two days before the American Heart Association event, with Rowan in tow, a smug grin tipping up his lips as we pushed through the front door.
“Ooh, girl!” I heard exclaimed the instant I stepped inside. The owner of that voice popped up in front of me, as if out of thin air. “Aren’t you just de-lish! Mmm mm mmm.” The man I’d never seen before in my life gave an exaggerated snap of his fingers before taking me by the shoulders and turning me in a circle. As I momentarily faced a laughing Rowan, I made sure to give him my best ‘I hate you’ glare, even though it had no effect. “You’re like a sexy Pollyanna, baby girl. I’d like to stick you in my pocket and take you home with me. And those eyes! You’re an absolute doll!”
“Uh… thanks?” It wasn’t until he stepped back that I got a good look at the man in all his flamboyance. Salmon-colored, skin-tight skinny jeans hugged every inch of his thin, yet lean, legs. His teal polo shirt—equally as tight—should have clashed with the pants, yet somehow, it worked brilliantly. The dude wore the collar popped up with a tribal scarf in accenting colors wrapped around his neck. Everything from the trendy boat shoes on his feet to the fedora covering his chocolate-brown hair screamed fab-u-lous. The guy accessorized better than I did! But it was the Calvin Klein model-esque face that did it for me. He was stunning, all sharp cheekbones and chiseled jawline. An absolute pretty boy. And had it not been for the amazing compliments he’d given me the moment I walked in, I would have hated him on the spot—for the simple fact that the guy was clearly competition when it came to landing a man.
“No thanks needed, sugar. I think you and I are going to be the best of friends.”
“And who exactly are you?” Rowan asked, pressing close against my back.
“Mmm,” the man hummed approvingly as he leaned to the side in order to run his eyes up and down Rowan’s frame the best he could.
“Give me an hour, big boy, and I’ll be whoever you want.”
I burst into a fit of laughter at the man in front of me at the same time Rowan pushed closer to me, as though I could shield him in some way from a guy who weighed about fifty pounds less and stood several inches shorter than him.
“You’re right,” I told him. “I think you and I are gonna be great friends.”
“What can I say?” He grinned at me before making sexy eyes in Rowan’s direction. “I’m very likable.” Rowan grunted uncomfortably, causing me to laugh once again. “I’m Tomas,” the man said, reaching out to shake my hand. “Toe-mas,” he annunciated, bringing my hand to his lips and pressing a kiss against my knuckles. “Like Thomas, but with a little… flair,” he finished, giving his shoulders a shake.
“Well, Tomas.” I giggled. “I’m Navie.”
“Ooh, I love it!” he exclaimed with an excitable clap. “That name fits you perfectly! So much better than Jennifer or Tiffany.” His lips curled up as if those names would be an insult to my very being.
“And this is Rowan,” I offered, stepping out of the way completely so Tomas had a perfect view. Who was I to deny a person their little piece of happiness?
“Traitor,” Rowan rumbled under his breath as Pepper came from the back of the shop.
“Yay! You’re here!” Done up in her typical Rockabilly fab, she rushed over to me and wrapped me in a big hug. “And you brought a babysitter?” she asked, giving Rowan a wink.
“You’re hilarious, Pep,” he shot back with an eye roll. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cell and held it up. “You know, I could always call Griffin to join us and make a little party of it?”
Her smile morphed into a fierce glare before she took hold of my hand and started leading me away. “Come on, Navie. Let’s go get you the most fabulous, expensive dress we can find.” She shot a smirk over her shoulder at Rowan. “I have Rowan’s card on file. Tomas, please make sure Mr. Locklaine is very comfortable.”
I shot a look over my shoulder as I giggled. Rowan’s face went surprisingly pale at the same time Tomas offered, “My pleasure, sweetheart. My pleasure indeed.”
It usually went without saying that I absolutely hated shopping. I was barely over five feet tall with more boobs and butt than I would have preferred. Finding clothes that fit my frame was next to impossible.
But watching Rowan coming out of his skin every time Tomas made a play made trying on countless dresses so worth it.
“So, what are your plans after this?” Tomas asked. “I’m thinking me, you, a bottle of tequila and a couple of neckties. Make an evening of it.”
From my place behind the dressing room curtain, I had to pause in pulling up the next gown as I leaned over in laughter, clutching my stomach as I wheezed in a breath.
“Oh, for the love of hell! Pepper, will you call off your dog, for fuck’s sake?”
I just finished pulling the dress up and securing the zipper when I heard, “Oh, baby,” Tomas purred. “I won’t bite… unless you want me to. But you feel free to use your teeth whenever you want. Hard.”
“Pepper!”
“Tomas, take it down a notch or a thousand, babe.”
“You got it, sweets.”
I stepped through the curtain just in time to watch Tomas hold his pinky and thumb up to his face, mouthing call me to Rowan as he walked away from him.
“All right, Pepper.” I laughed as I climbed the two steps onto the small podium in front of the three-way mirror. “This is the last one I’m trying on. It better damn well be good enough.”
She emitted a startling, ear-splitting screech that had me spinning around to look in her and Rowan’s direction. She went all girly with a squealing, “It’s so perfect!”
“Oh, sugar,” Tomas breathed with his clasped hands tucked to his chest. “You’re bringing a tear to my queer little eye.” To prove the point, he sniffled and ran a finger across his cheek.
Turning back to the mirror, I gazed at my reflection and was inclined to agree. It was a gorgeous Grecian-style gown in a soft, cream-colored chiffon. It flowed from my ribs all the way down to my toes in four layers, the three top layers made sheer so it looked like water as I swayed from side to side. The A-line bust was designed with a shimmery gold appliqué that twisted all the way around and wove into the one and only strap on my left shoulder. It was classy without being overstated. It accentuated my body while still being unbelievably comfortable. But the main selling point was the fact that I felt beautiful in it.
“Oh, wow,” I breathed as I ran my hands down my waist, my fingers skating over the smooth material, taking everything in with wide eyes.
“Rowan? What do you think?” Pepper asked, pulling my attention away from the mirror to look back. What I saw left me nearly breathless. The muscle in his jaw ticked like it did every time I saw him get angry. But the way his throat moved as he swallowed, the way his crystal-clear gaze darkened as his eyes raked back and forth over every inch of my frame, the way his fists clenched and unclenched over and over… well, something about all of that led me to believe that anger was the last thing he was feeling.
And because of that, I felt warmth pool in my belly, a tingle between my thighs that refused to go away. At that very moment, I was thankful for the gathered material around my breasts masking the fact that my nipples had hardened painfully under his stare.
“I’m thinking he might like it.” Pepper’s voice held joyous humor as she joined Tomas in clutching her hands to her chest.
“Oh, baby. He more than likes it,” Tomas replied. “Judging by that python standing tall behind his fly, he loves it.”
That did it. That pulled both Rowan and I out of the heat of the moment. My head fell back in hysterical laughter at the same time Rowan exclaimed, “Jesus, Mary, and motherfucking Joseph. Come on, Tomas!”
“What?” He shrugged innocently. “Just stating the facts, stud. If she wasn’t so goddamned sweet, I may have to cut a bitch.”
“Aww, thanks, Tomas.” I giggled as I turned back to my reflection.
“Anything for you, sweet tea.”
It was official. I was in love with Tomas. And I was so getting this dress.
It was official. I was so fucked.
I tightened my fist around my aching cock as I tugged faster and harder. Those familiar tingles started at the base of my spine, my balls tightening as I got closer to blowing. And the one vision behind my lids as I pumped my dick at a furious pace, chasing after my orgasm, was Navie.
God, Navie.
That fucking dress was going to be the death of me.
But it wasn’t imagining her in that dress that was going to push me over the edge. It was that dress, and the way she looked with her head thrown back in laughter, and that goddamned look on her face when she turned to me. I’d been hard just staring at her. Watching those navy-colored eyes dilate with want, like I was a lake in the middle of the desert and she hadn’t had water in ages. That look was what had me grunting as I lay in my bed, in my dark room, shooting my load all over my hand and stomach.
Jesus Christ.
If an orgasm was that good just thinking about her, I couldn’t imagine what it would have felt like if it had been her small hand wrapped around me. Or better yet, her tight pussy snug all around me as I pounded into her.
Yep, I was royally fucked.
It felt like the night of the gala had snuck up on me unexpectedly. Yes, I had a fabulous dress and amazing high-heeled strappy sandals in the same shade of gold as the applique on my dress. My hair and makeup were both flawless, thanks to Pepper and Harlow’s impeccable work. I’d managed to find the time to create chandelier earrings that looked like hammered gold leaves, plus a thin slave bracelet with matching leaves that ran from my wrist up the back of my hand where a thin chain looped around my middle finger. But mentally, I was freaking out.
Other than Rowan, I wasn’t going to know anyone there. And to say I didn’t fit in with the crowd that attended an event such as the AHA gala was an epic understatement. I hadn’t felt so out of my element since I was a teenager.
“Stop fidgeting.” Rowan reached across the seat and wrapped his long fingers around my hand that had been tugging at my bracelet.
His soft words and gentle touch pulled my attention from the passing buildings outside our limousine's window. “I can’t help it.”
His grip on my hand loosened as he flipped my palm over and looked down, the tips of his fingers whispering over the gold leaves wrapped around my wrist. “You keep yanking on this bracelet and you’re going to break it.” I turned my attention from his handsome face, his strong jaw covered in a day’s worth of stubble. He still managed to look slightly rugged, even while wearing a designer tux, and my body had been tingling since the moment I climbed into the limo and first caught sight of him. “You make this?” he asked, jerking me back to reality.
“Yeah. And the earrings. I needed something to match my dress.”
“Gorgeous,” he said on a whispered breath. I thought he was talking about the bracelet, but when I looked up from our hands that crystal gaze was focused solely on my face. My breath hitched as his eyes roamed every inch of my features. He leaned in closer, his hand on my wrist tightening as though he was afraid I’d pull away. I had absolutely no intention of pulling away. I didn’t have it in me to fight any longer. Denying myself something I wanted so badly was exhausting, and I didn’t want to do it anymore. Consequences be damned, I’d find a way to deal with the aftermath when that time came.
Which it undoubtedly would.
“Rowan…” That one word came out like a plea, soft and breathy, full of need. We were so close I could see his eyes flare at just the sound of me saying his name. He wanted me. I wanted him. It was undeniable.
Then the curtain came crashing down on our moment.
“Mr. Locklaine, we’ve arrived,” the driver’s voice called across the intercom.
“Fuck,” he nearly growled as he pulled away, resting his back against the seat as he raked his hands through his hair. His words were mumbled, but I could understand them perfectly. “Fucking shit. Goddamn it.” And I couldn’t have agreed more.
His chest rose and fell on a deep breath as I tried to get my rapid heartbeat under control. I sucked in as much air as possible, coaxing myself with a silent in through your nose, out through your mouth. It took a few seconds, but I finally started to calm down. That was, until Rowan focused those darkened eyes on me.
“This isn’t over. Goddamn, this is so not fucking over.”
“I know.” The surprise that flashed across his face told me he’d been expecting a fight. Well, I wasn’t going to give him one.
“Tonight, after this is over. Come home with me.” It wasn’t a question. He wasn’t giving me any room to change my mind.
“O-okay,” I stuttered on a nod.
A slow, brain-shorting smile spread across his lips as he spoke a quiet, “Okay.”
He held on to my hand firmly as he guided me out of the limo, letting go once I was on my feet to rest his palm at the small of my back. The touch provided a sense of comfort as we walked into the Plaza Hotel where the gala was being held.
“Whoa,” I exhaled. “Talk about lifestyles of the rich and famous,” I whispered for only Rowan’s ears.
“This place will be packed with pretentious douchebags and narcissistic bastards.”
I turned my face up toward him and gave him a quick smile. “So, what you’re saying is you’ll fit in perfectly.”
“She’s got jokes.” He grinned, giving my side a pinch that caused me to let out a small yelp. Both of us laughed at the few disapproving looks from the people around us.
“So, tell me what to expect tonight,” I said as we walked into the ornately decorated ballroom. Yep, so out of my element.
Rowan led me to the bar closest to us, one of two on either side of the room. “Well, it’s going to be boring,” he started. “Mind numbingly boring. Cocktails and a silent auction followed by a dinner, where we’ll undoubtedly be stuck in conversations so dull you’ll want to stab your eardrums out with a butter knife.” He turned to me and gave a crooked grin as I sat on one of the available barstools. “That’s frowned upon, by the way. You’ll be tempted, but I suggest you keep all cutlery away from your ears.”
“Noted,” I giggled.
“During the dinner, someone—most likely a limp-dick politician who doesn’t give a shit about the charity—will drone on about all the reasons we should open our checkbooks and ask each of us to donate an amount that would be enough to buy a private island, all while purposefully sliding in comments as to what he or she is running for and why they’re the best choice for New York’s blah blah blah. Then they’ll announce the winners of the auction items, making sure to give the exact dollar amount, down to the penny, hoping to emasculate the rest of us who weren’t willing to fork out that much. Sprinkle in a shit-ton of schmoozing in between, and there’s your night.”
“Wow, you make it sound so appealing,” I responded sarcastically.
“Well, now you know why I hate coming to these things.”
The bartender came over for our drink order, a scotch on the rocks for Rowan, a gin and tonic for myself.
“So,” I asked a few minutes later, taking a fortifying sip of my drink as I turned to scan the room, “Are you telling me you have enough money to buy your own personal island?”
Rowan rested his side against the bar next to me, his elbow propped up casually as he brought his glass to his lips. I was momentarily mesmerized by the way his lips wrapped around the edge, how his throat bobbed when he swallowed. I had to give my head a quick shake to pull me from my stupor.
“Maybe a small one,” he teased. “What? You thinking of becoming a gold digger?”
“Nah, not really my style.” I scanned the room once more, taking in all the money that was wandering around—an ideal scene for people watching, honestly. I gave Rowan a cheeky grin. “But I’m sure you’d have no problem finding one here if you’re in the market.”
It was like perfect comedic timing—only not funny whatsoever—when an elegant, French-tipped hand snaked over Rowan’s shoulder just seconds before a surgically enhanced blonde plastered herself to his side.
“Rowan,” she purred in an annoying nasally voice. From the strange look of her face, I could only assume the Botox had botched her attempt at a seductive expression. To Rowan’s credit, he at least appeared to be caught off guard, but that was more than likely because he’d forgotten the plastic woman’s name two minutes before she’d walked out his door—or he walked out of hers. None of that lessened the sharp sting I felt in the pit of my stomach as I watched the two of them.
“Uh… hi…” Yep, he totally forgot her name. His wide, icy eyes shot to me as if wanting me to step in and save him. Not a fucking chance in hell. He’d made his bed, had sex with the five-foot-nine Barbie Doll in it, he could very well lie in it.
“You don’t remember me?” she asked with what I was assuming was a pout. Hard to tell with all the collagen pumped into her lips. It took an act of God to prevent me from reaching for my phone and snapping a quick picture. I wanted to blast that baby all over Instagram as a warning to always seek a board-certified plastic surgeon.
Did she get that shit done in Tijuana or something?
When all he did was stand there like a dumbass mute, she continued. “Brandi… with an i?” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “The bathtub at the Waldorf?” Oh, gag! “You called me sweetheart?” You and every other available vagina this side of the Hudson.
“Oh, of course!” Rowan lied through his teeth. “Brandi. Yes, I remember.”
She attempted a grin that couldn’t bust through the toxins she’d pumped into her skin. “I knew you would!” I wanted to gouge my eyes out. Or better yet, stick a fork in one of the airbags she called a boob and watch her fly away. “Are you here alone? We could leave a little early if you wanted, go back to my place…” She trailed a fingernail down the lapel of his jacket, lower and lower until Rowan grabbed her wrist, stopping her just inches from being indecent.
I was pissed.
Or more aptly, I was jealous. And that itself was enough to piss me off even more. I didn’t get jealous. Ever. I’d never been jealous in my life. Yet there I sat, fuming over the biggest man-whore on the eastern seaboard. Good Lord, how had things spun so out of control?
“Um, no. I’m actually—” he began to answer.
Clearing my throat loudly, I pasted on a saccharine-sweet smile as they turned to look at me. Boobzilla scanned me up and down, clearly finding me lacking. Rowan just looked downright uncomfortable, which was really saying something, considering nothing seemed to ruffle his feathers. Seeing his immense discomfort suddenly shifted something inside of me, tapering off the decent sized mad I’d been working on. He didn’t want her pawing all over him. He’d even begun to tell her he was with someone before I interrupted. While I would have loved to throw a Texas sized hissy fit, he honestly hadn’t done anything wrong. At least at that moment. For that reason, I decided to throw him a bone.
I extended my hand in the human blowup doll’s direction. “Hi, I’m Navie.” When her expression remained impassive, I continued. “Rowan’s date.”
She let out a less than feminine snort. “You must be joking.”
“She’s not, actually,” Rowan answered, detaching himself from the she-bitch and moving to my side, snaking his hand around my waist. My heart did a little flip at his possessive gesture. My body liked that way more than it should have. “It was nice seeing you again. Enjoy your evening.”
Just like that, he turned his back on her, stepping in front of me and effectively cutting her off. But I wasn’t done.
Taking a page out of Rowan’s playbook, I looked over his shoulder, smiling big as I said, “Lovely meeting you, Barbara.”
“It’s Brandi,” she glowered.
“Whatever.”
When I looked back at Rowan, his eyes danced with amusement and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. “Something tells me I’m going to be very happy I brought you with me tonight.”
I pursed my lips together and blew out a long puff of air, creating a less than ladylike sound. “Pfft, of course you are. I’m delightful.”
“Come on then.” He chuckled, pulling me from the barstool. “Let’s go have some fun.”
“As long as I don’t end up behind bars again, I’m down. If you’re in there with me, who’d bail me out?”
