Page 67 of Live for Me

And the whole fucking truck about ended up right in a ditch because of it.

I was lucky to have survived the rest of the drive to that bar. It wasn’t an upscale establishment. It wasn’t even a club. It definitely wasn’t the kind of place you brought a woman that you wanted to impress, but hopefully with a little more luck, it would be a quiet kind of place. The kind where no one would happen to recognize two people who walked around with massive contracts for their return, dead or alive. Judging from the parking lot, it would still be crowded inside. I just hoped it would be a laid-back kind of place that matched the feel of the rest of this weird state. That way, Memphis would feel safe enough to do pretty much anything she pleased while we were here and there wouldn’t be issues with anyone else.

I knew better than to believe that after the bouncer waved us right through the door, though. I had my wallet out to hand him cash for both of us, but rather than taking it from my hand, he looked at the tiny woman behind me. His eyes roamed over every inch of her before he decided he didn’t want the cover fee.

“You come here a lot?” Memphis nearly yelled to be sure I heard her over the music.

“What? I’ve never been here?”

“Do you know that guy? Why’d he let you in for free?”

That had to be the cutest shit I’d ever witnessed in real life.

I put my hand on her lower back to push her toward the bar ahead of me, but I leaned down to her ear so I wouldn’t have to yell for her to hear me.

“He letyouin here for free, sugar. I’m just the guy who happened to walk in with you.”

“What?” she asked with a nervous laugh. “I don’t know him.”

So fucking cute that it hurt me.

“Means you’re the prettiest thing in here tonight, angel. Enjoy it.”

When she stopped dead in her tracks to turn just her head to look up at me over her shoulder, it took every bit of restraint that I possessed to not kiss her. The little sparkle that drifted through her eyes when she’d smiled earlier didn’t even fucking compare to the pure glow radiating from them in this moment. Convincing my brainandmy dick that she hadn’t actually wanted that just then was the feat of a lifetime. Further convincing myself that she hadn’t actually leaned back ever so slightly so that the back of her body just barely brushed against the front of mine was even more complicated. I was so fucking focused on her face that I couldn’t even force myself to pay attention to the rest of her. It was way easier to just decide that my brain was playing games to try to help my dick get his way. I’d imagined that part. Just like I’d imagined that she stood there that way longer than would’ve ever been necessary for any reason.

I wasn’t supposed to be thinking about sex tonight.

Fuck. Again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

memphis

Means you’re the prettiest thing in here tonight, angel.

Who said shit like that?

Better yet, who said shit like that and then didn’t react at all whenthe prettiest thing in heretonightjust stood there and stared right at him like she had no brain? Like she would’ve been perfectly content if he’d just kissed her right then and there so we could both turn around and leave this place.

Add intense confusion on top of the already uncertain self-esteem situation that seemed to plague me every single fucking time this man was within eyesight.

Utah’s hand went to my hip to start pushing me forward again. He directed me to the only opening at the bar itself and I squeezed my way into it, wondering where Utah thought he was going to go—there wasn’t space on either side of me for him to sit. Then I spent a solid three seconds trying to think of ways a human body could spontaneously combust because I watched his hands grip the edge of the bar just beside both my elbows. He wasn’t even touching any part of me, and I could still feel the heat from his body at my back.

So, it really wouldn’t bespontaneouscombustion. It’d be whatever fire that apparently radiated from him that would set me ablaze.

“What do you want, Memphis?” he asked. Right beside my head, to further all my issues.

Oxygen.

But he meant to drink.

I couldn’t come up with even a single kind of alcohol at that moment to be able to respond to him successfully. I couldn’t even make myself look at him again because everything inside me was still somersaulting with embarrassment that he’d simply chosen not to kiss me a minute ago.

“Have you had liquor before?” he asked, a little more quietly, a little more directly into my fucking ear.

“Not really,” I whispered.

His hands shifted from the bar to both my arms, and all my senses somehow stopped working in ways that I could understandandstarted firing messages at my brain simultaneously. I couldn’t do anything beyond the realization that his hands were big enough to wrapall the wayaround my upper arms. I didn’t even recall breathing until one hand moved to reach for his wallet again, and the bartender shook his head and winked at me when he said the first round was on the house. When he placed two shot glasses in front of me, it dawned on me that I hadn’t even actually heard Utah order anything.

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