My black skirt is shorter than I’d like and the t-shirt I’m wearing with it is a bit more…form-fitting than it needs to be, not to mention I don’t ever remember it showing so much belly. If I weren’t an adult, Dad probably wouldn’t have let me leave the house until I changed. Unfortunately, yoga pants or cut-off jean shorts with paint on them were my only other options, so short skirt and tight shirt it is.

It doesn’t take me long to settle into the comfort of the familiar. Drinks flow freely and there’s more of a party atmosphere than usual. It’s not long before my head is spinning happily, warning me I need to slow down on the drinks.

I’m laughing with Ginger, who took the shift off to sit on the other side of the bar with me tonight, when I see the door open behind her. My heart squeezes painfully when I see my ex, Gabe, walk in with his girlfriend, Tina, on his arm.

He looks the same as always—dangerously handsome with his jet black hair, pale blue eyes and cocky, to-die-for smile. He even has the same issues as before—a girl on his arm and a wandering eye. He doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he’s checking out other girls. And Tina, God love her, she just pretends not to notice. Talk about dysfunction!

Ginger, having noticed my silent, open-mouthed stare, turns to look. “Oh sweet heaven, who let that bastard in?”

She turns and starts to slide off her stool as if to rectify the situation. Reaching out, I put my hand on her arm, stopping her from getting up. “Don’t. It’s not worth it.”

Actually, I’d love to see her kick his ass out, but it would only make me look more pathetic, so I’d rather just drink enough to drown him out of my consciousness.

I signal Tad, who is working a rare shift behind the bar tonight to cover for Ginger’s absence, and ask him to bring us another round of shots. That’s the fastest way to oblivion as far as I’m concerned. And oblivion is looking very appealing at the moment.

Ginger and I toast one another and down the shots. I feel the burn of eighty proof all the way to my stomach where it kindles a warm fire. She whoops excitedly and I laugh at her, but my eyes can’t help but stray back out to the crowd in search of Gabe.

When they find him, he’s sitting down at a tall table. Despite the girl at his side, his eyes find me. In them, there’s recognition. And hunger, just like there always was. And I react instantly, just like I always did. Only now, the reaction dies almost immediately, the flames doused by the cold waters of reality and how he’s here tonight with Tina rather than with me.

I’d listened to his lies for months, falling more deeply in love with him by the day, when all the while, he’d had a girlfriend he’d never had any intention of leaving. The worst part was, they have a son together. They were basically a family. And even though they’d never actually split, he’d made me feel like a homewrecker. He’d made me feel like my mother. And for that, he doesn’t deserve my forgiveness.

I try to enjoy the rest of the night, enjoy a farewell gathering with my old friends and coworkers, but my mood continues to darken. Every drink and every laugh seems tainted, tainted by the presence of the umpteenth bad boy I’d fallen for.

Ginger orders us another round of shots, which I gladly accept even though I know I’m pushing my limit, and we toss them back amid the cheers of our friends. The alcohol is just starting to burn off my bitterness when someone at the door catches my attention again.

This time, Cash strolls in.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - Cash

I’m not surprised by anything I see when I walk into the sports bar. It’s typical, with its dozen or so televisions lining the walls and a collection of tables in the center of the room facing them. The bar is to my right followed by four pool tables, crouching under long Budweiser lights. Beyond those is a small dance floor.

Within seconds, my eyes find Olivia. It’s like they’re drawn to her. When I see her sitting at the bar with her friends, I know two things are true. One, she’ll be drunk if she doesn’t stop drinking soon. And two, I’ll have that skirt pushed up around her waist before the night’s out.

When her eyes meet mine, I see resistance in them. I’ve seen it before, but I thought we’d pretty much moved past that. I can’t help but wonder what has happened since this morning to set her back.

There’s an explicative resting on my tongue, but I bite it back and keep my face neutral as I walk toward her. When I stop beside her, I watch her straighten her spine and tip her chin up. Yep, resistance. And she’s determined.

Even though it frustrates me, I find it pretty freakin’ hot. It makes me want to make her want me despite all the reasons she thinks she shouldn’t.

So I will.

Again.

“I would ask if I could buy you a drink, but it looks like you’ve already had a few too many.”

“I already have one father. He’s at home nursing a broken leg, thank you very much,” she says with a bit of a slur.

“No offense intended. Just an observation.” I signal the bartender, who is watching me with nothing less than hostility. “Jack. Neat.” I’m in her territory now. She’s among her friends and they’re obviously very protective. The strange thing is that they’d feel the need to protect her from me, even though they’ve never met me.

Damn, I guess she really does have a weakness for a certain type. And all her friends must know about it.

It irritates the shit out of me that she’s pigeon-holed me, as have all her friends. There’s nothing I hate worse than to be judged unfairly. Not one of these people knows the first thing about me, Olivia included.

It would be interesting to see how she’d react if she knew everything, knew the truth. In just a few short sentences, I could give her every reason in the world to run away from me as far and as fast as she can. But I won’t. Because I’m feeling selfish. I don’t want her to run away yet. I need more from her first.

A lot more.

When the bartender sets a glass in front of me, I toss him a ten and down my drink in one gulp. I nod for another and slide my empty glass back.

I make a point to ignore Olivia as I stand awaiting my next drink. Finally, she speaks. I almost smile. I wanted her to make the first move. And she did.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, scooting off her stool to stand beside me. I wonder if it makes her feel more in control, more in charge to be standing.

Or maybe it makes her feel safer, like she can get away quickly. Run.

“I thought you might need some help. So I came to help.”

I see her eyes flicker to her right for a split second before returning to me.

“How did you find me?”

“My brother.”

“No, I mean how did you know I was here?”

“Your father.”

“You went to my house?”

She’s obviously perturbed about that. “Yes. Is that a problem? Are visitors not welcome at your secret lair?”

I watch, fascinated, as anger stiffens her muscles. She props her fists on her hips. Damn, she’s fiery. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe you should wait until you’re invited?”

“If I was invited, then I wouldn’t be volunteering, now would I?”

Even in her agitation, I see her glance for the second time to a table at her right. I follow her gaze to a guy sitting there with a mousy-looking girl. The way he’s watching Olivia leaves me in no doubt that they know each other. And very well by the looks of it.

I take a step closer to Olivia and lean down to ask quietly, “Is that the guy?”

She jerks her head toward me, guiltily. Angrily. “What guy? What are you talking about?”

“Oh come on. Admit it. That’s the last bad boy, isn’t it?” I look back at the douche who is inadvertently making my life more difficult. “Looks like he recovered from the wood chipper pretty well. Want me to kick his ass?”

I look back to Olivia. A range of emotions flit across her face, beginning with confusion and ending in something close to humor, to a smile.

“No, I don’t want you to kick his ass.”

“You sure? Because I specialize in deassholization.”

This time she smiles. “Deassholization?”

“Yeah. Just think of me as the Orkin man of assholes—putting assholes in their place.”

“Well, I appreciate the offer, but he’s not worth it.”

I reach forward to tuck a stray lock of raven hair behind her ear. “If he hurt you, he’s worth it.”

I really don’t think Olivia knows how expressive her face is. I can plainly see that she’s affected by me, that she likes me and probably wouldn’t argue if stripped her down and licked her from head to toe, even though letting me would be against her better judgment. But I can also see that she doesn’t want to feel those things. She wants to be ambivalent, unaffected. She wants to be impervious to me. Only she’s not. And, if I can help it, she won’t be either.

I recognize the lively song that comes on. Ho Hey would never be played at my club, mainly because it is a club, but I like it nonetheless. The words have me feeling a little sentimental toward the confused and gun-shy Olivia.

“Come on then,” I say, taking Olivia by the hand. “Let’s go rub it in.”

I reach for her friend’s hand, too, the lady who’s been watching me since I walked in, like I’m a potential snack. “I’m Cash, Olivia’s boss. Come dance with us.”

“Ginger,” she declares with a broad smile. She wraps her fingers around mine, giving me zero resistance.

As I tow the girls across the bar toward the dance floor, Ginger is drumming up attention, which is perfect for what I have in mind. “Come on, y’all. Let’s give Liv a farewell dance she’ll never forget.”

Within seconds, there are two dozen of Olivia’s biggest fans surrounding us on the dance floor, singing along and showering her with smiles and hugs and attention. I can see her face light up, her demeanor relax.

She only looks back at that other guy one time, and even then, it’s almost an absent-minded kind of thing. For the most part, her focus is concentrated on the people around her. And on me.

I can see the ice melting each time her eyes meet mine. When I smile, she smiles in return. When I reach for her hand, she laces her fingers through mine. And when she turns to me, it’s looks as though, at least for the time-being, she’s stopped lumping me in with the d-bag who she wishes had fallen into a wood chipper.

Her eyes are sparkling and happy, and she appears to be genuinely pleased. “Thank you for this. You’re a very talented agent of deassholization.”

“Oh, this isn’t my method of choice. Trust me. But if it makes you happy then I’m okay with it.”

She looks away shyly, but her eyes come back to mine, unable to resist the magnetism that’s between us. “Well, it makes me very happy.”

“Then let’s finish him off, shall we?”

She quirks one eyebrow and smiles. I see the daring girl rise to the surface. She’s feeling like she can take on the world, conquer anything including an ex-boyfriend.

She’s ready to jump. And I’m ready to catch her.

“What did you have in mind?” she asks coyly, licking her lips.

I look around and locate the signage for the bathrooms. I smile down at her, taking both her hands in mine and backing out of the crowd, toward the restrooms. I don’t take my eyes off her.

Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are wide with excitement. She doesn’t know what I have in mind, but I think she thinks it’s risqué. And she seems okay with that, which makes me even bolder.

Not once does she glance at that guy’s table as we pass, but I see him from the corner of my eye. He says something to the girl he’s with and he gets up to leave. He looks angry, which makes me smirk.

When we reach the short hallway outside the bathrooms, I pull Olivia to me and kiss her. She’s warm and pliant, and within seconds, she’s working her fingers into my hair and pressing her chest against mine.

I was only planning to kiss her where that as**ole could see us, but Olivia isn’t thinking about him anymore.

Now neither am I.

The music fades around us when she bends her knee and rubs her leg against mine. I reach down and run my fingers up the smooth skin of her calf. She reaches down and puts her hand on top of mine, guiding it to her hip. Happy to oblige, I cup her perfect ass in my hand and squeeze.

Her moan tickles along my tongue and vibrates to my lower half to stiffen everything from my waist down. When the kiss that was supposed to be more a tease than anything else turns rough with passion, I stop thinking about everything but the girl in my arms.

I reach behind me and twist the door knob so we can slip inside the bathroom. I pause only for a second to catch my breath and look around. We’re in the ladies’ room.

I lock the door and pull Olivia back to me, reaching down to drag my hands up the backs of her legs, bringing her skirt up as I go.

Her panties leave the majority of her butt uncovered. I stroke the smooth skin with my palms, running my fingers along the crease between her cheeks then pulling her h*ps snugly against mine. I want her to feel what she does to me.

She’s panting into my mouth and her fingers start fumbling with my belt buckle.

Damn, why did I wear a belt?

I help her get my jeans undone. I’m just about to reach inside them when she pushes my hand aside, wrapping her fingers around me and squeezing. I just about explode when she strokes me all the way to the tip and back down again, her tongue licking against mine in the same slow movement.

I grab her wrist and stop her. Olivia looks up at me with passion-dark eyes and a flushed face. Her lips are red and swollen and my only thought is of them wrapped around me, sucking me.