Page 58 of Common Grounds

I shake my head slowly. “I don’t think I should go over there. I can’t guarantee I won’t physically move that guy to the other side of the room.”

“Dang, Trev. You’re wound tight tonight. Relax, man. She doesn’t want him. Go over there and get us some beers, casually say hi to your new friend, and see what happens. It would be rude not to at least say hello, and I can almost guarantee that once she sees a better option, she’ll ditch that guy real quick.”

I eye him warily, but he has a point. What’s the harm in saying hi to a friend in a bar? It would be weird if I didn’t.

He presses his cash into my palm as I slide out of the booth and take a second to roll some of the tension out of my shoulders. Mike is right; I am wound up tonight. I need to play it cool, or I’m going to scare her off for good. I take a deep breath and let it out before making my way to the bar.

I sidle up on the other side of Violet. When she notices me, I nod in greeting. A slow, mischievous smile stretches across her face as her eyes light up like things finally got interesting. I suppose they have.

“Well, hello there, Trevor,” she says a touch too loud. Emery snatches her hand off McGlasses’ arm and whirls her head around, her eyes wide and her ruby-red lips parted. I would claim those lips right now if I could.

“Hey, Violet.” I try to keep the strain out of my voice, though I’m glad for the music and the noise of the bar to cover up the edge I feel creeping its way into my words. “Emery.” I nod at her. I completely ignore McGlasses. I’m not interested in knowing anything about him. I’m only interested in him going away.

The bartender comes over, and I place my order, all the while aware of Emery’s eyes on me.

“What are you doing here?” she asks. McGlasses shifts pointedly behind her, brushing his arm up against her back. She ignores it, her eyes searching mine instead.

“Mike insisted on celebrating the shop’s moderate success tonight. I’m here to get us some drinks and wanted to say hi.” I drop the cash on the bar as the bartender comes back over with our beers. “Keep the change,” I tell him, then turn back to Emery. Her gaze is intense, her pupils dilated enough to make her already dark eyes seem completely black, even despite McGlasses clearly shuffling to try to get her attention back on him. Mike might actually be right. She doesn’t seem to have any interest in him at all now that I’m here.

Amusement is practically radiating off of Violet, but I try not to seem overconfident as I take one glass in each hand. “Have a good night, ladies. I’m sure I’ll see you later this week.”

I try to walk as casually as I can back to the table. I make Mike switch with me so I don’t have to look at Emery and that asshole while I finish this drink, which I resolve to do as quickly as possible so I can get the hell out of here.

Mike looks over my shoulder. “I’d ask how it went, but I think it went pretty well.”

“What makes you say that?” I ask sullenly into my beer.

“She’s headed over here right now.” He stands from the table and takes his beer with him. “Good luck, buddy,” he mutters, clapping my back. He greets Emery, then walks toward the bar.

She flops into the booth across from me, and her knees brush against mine as she slides further into her seat. To my surprise, she makes no move to break the contact, though her cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink. She drags her bottom lip through her teeth, smudging her red lipstick slightly. I wish it were my lips messing up her lipstick. My dick goes hard at the thought.

I take what I hope is a laid-back sip of my drink. “Hey,” I say, and immediately do a mental facepalm. That’s the best I could think of to say?

“Hi,” she returns. Her brows pinch together ever so slightly. “Do you want me to leave? I don’t want to interrupt your guys’ night.”

I huff, carefully setting my drink down on the table. She left that guy to come over here to talk to me, and the realization makes me bold. “Emery, I’m surprised you haven’t figured out that I never want you to leave.”

Her cheeks flush darker, but she doesn’t protest. That’s a good sign.

She rubs her palms together, which is when I notice she doesn’t have a drink. But before I can offer to get her one, she blurts out, “I know you and Cass were talking about me.”

I study her for a moment before I nod. “We were.”

Her throat works against a hard swallow. “Aren’t you going to say anything about it?” she asks quietly, and I think I hear some trepidation in her voice. She must have been working up to this question.

“What’s there to say? You were married. Now you’re not, which you more or less told me. Right?”

“Right.” She drags the word out slowly. She takes a sharp breath in. “It’s just that… well, most guys press for more information. You didn’t. And they have this look when they find out.”

“What look?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs tightly and looks down at the table, as if she’s uncomfortable in her own skin. “Like they feel bad for me, or there’s something wrong with me.”

I press my knee into hers, and she snaps her gaze back to mine. She seems to settle into it.

“Do you miss him?” I ask gently.

“Hell no,” she answers quickly, then chuckles as if she’s amused at her own speedy response. “No. He and I were not good together.”

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