I studied him, trying to make sense of what he said, realizing it was a locked door I had no chance of getting through. Instead, I hiked myself up onto the stool.
Ollie’s eyes went wide when he approached, his attention flicking between the two of us as if he were shocked Rex might actually be talking to me.
“What can I get you?” Ollie asked.
“A margarita would be nice.”
Rex and I sat in silence for a few moments, saying nothing while Ollie mixed my drink and placed it in front of me. “Thank you,” I said, taking a sip before I chanced a peek at Rex.
At his profile.
At his nose and his lips and his jaw.
Shivers rolled and those butterflies swarmed.
“Your daughter is adorable.”
A smile flickered on his lush mouth. “Yeah . . . she’s a handful.”
His words were pure adoration, and for the first time, Rex dropped his shield.
As if just the mention of her had the power to send it tumbling down.
So maybe I melted a little.
“I’d venture that kind of handful is the best kind.”
His chuckle was slow. “Sometimes I wonder how I handle that little hurricane. Barely can keep up most days.” Even though it came out playful, there was an undercurrent of sadness. A suggestion of fear.
I nodded before we both turned away, facing forward and sipping from our drinks. It was as if we both needed a breather, a moment to sort through whatever was happening between us.
It felt like maybe in the silence, we were calling a truce.
The band playing at the small stage behind us at the other end of the bar moved into another song. I’d barely been paying attention to them all night, the songs only a backdrop to the vibe, the band members just as trendy as the bar itself.
But this . . .
This was a song I knew so well.
They were singing a haunting cover of “Awake My Soul” by Mumford & Sons.
Slower and quieter than the original.
The lyrics were full of longing and heartache.
Mournful and somehow hopeful.
I sipped my drink, getting lost in the feel. In the comfort of the soft, scratchy voice of the singer, in the startling warmth that radiated from Rex.
My grandmother’s face flitted through my eyes, her belief a whisper in my ear.
My teeth caught on my bottom lip when I turned to find him watching me.
Intently.
Something fervent rose between us. Alive and potent. It sent my nerves spiraling free.
He took a slow pull of his beer, his words measured. Careful. “I’m really sorry about your grandmother, Rynna. She was a really good woman.” Sadness flashed through his expression. “Don’t know of anything worse than losing someone you love.”
Emotion thickened my throat, stunned by his sudden care and swimming in the stark loss. “I feel like I lost her a long time ago.”
The admission was strangled, ripped from my chest as if I couldn’t keep it in for a second longer.
That stunning gaze searched my face through the shadows. “Had it been a long time since you saw her?”
There was no accusation behind it. Just honest curiosity.
“Yeah.”
“Why’d you stay away so long?”
I choked out an uncertain laugh. “Because I wasn’t brave enough.”
He frowned. “You seem awful brave to me.”
My head shook. “No. I’m not brave. Or maybe I just wasn’t brave soon enough.”
The lyrics lifted in the atmosphere, words about life and death and the impermanency of our bodies. I swore I saw Rex’s spine go rigid.
I touched his arm, unable to stop myself. My skin lit up at the contact. He stared at it before he jerked away and pushed from the bar.
Shocked, I spun around.
His chest heaved and he looked . . . panicked.
“Rex—”
He roughed a hand over his face, cutting off whatever connection we’d shared. “I’ve got to get out of here.”
Then he turned, stalked through the crowd, shoved open the door, and disappeared into the night.
Leaving me sitting there staring at the vacancy he’d left behind, wondering exactly what I’d done wrong.
8
Rex
I was agitated.
Pissed and confused.
A disorder trembling me to the bone.
As hard as I tried, there was no corralling it. No shaking the bristling anger that had followed me through all of last night and into this morning.
It was a blinding fury that had taken to my veins when I’d found her backed into a corner by that piece of shit.
Hell. It’d been ignited the second I’d looked up from the table and saw him talking to her.
I didn’t even know her, and she sure as hell wasn’t mine, but I couldn’t stomach the idea of her leaving with him. Of her going back to his place or maybe him going to hers.
The vision of him following her up her stairs had made me want to claw my eyes out. Two of them falling into her bed.
It was no surprise he turned out to be a pussy-bitch pretty boy who had the misconception he had the right to reach out and take whatever he wanted whether someone wanted to give it or not.