Page 88 of Score on You

His coarse stubble rasps along my throat when he nuzzles into me. “You good?”

“She couldn’t be better. I was about to make her a Slippery Dickery. Unless you wanna have at it, boss.” Harper holds up a cocktail shaker.

“Nah, I’m good on this side.”

“Where you can play guard dog,” she quips.

On cue, tension radiates from him while he scans our surrounding area. I rest my palm on his and thread our fingers together. A calm quickly loosens the rigidity in his stance.

I swivel sideways on the stool, tipping my chin upward in a silent request for a kiss. Ridge dips to accept my invitation. Our mouths meet for a brief but electric moment. A sizzle sparks in my veins when his tongue sneaks out to lick my lower lip before he straightens. His relaxed grin mirrors mine, but then he glances down at my outfit. I teeter in limbo for his judgment.

“You look”—his throat works audibly—“incredible.”

“Thanks, boyfriend.”

He scrubs over his mouth. “Gonna get me arrested.”

My ears must be deceiving me. “What was that?”

“These jokers won’t be able to resist. Too damn tempting.”

“She sure is.” The comment comes from the man beside me.

“Must be fucking joking,” Ridge snarls. The softness in his expression morphs into steel edges sharp enough to maim as he glares at the guy. “Care to repeat that?”

“Nope, just shooting the shit with my buddies.” He turns away.

My boyfriend throws invisible daggers at the customer’s back. I sit still while waiting for him to forgive the minor interruption. Meanwhile, the person sitting on my left must smell the anger wafting from him. He voluntarily vacates his seat before becoming the next target. Ridge claims the stool, seeming far too pleased with his ability to chase people away without a word.

“Where were we?” He lifts our connected hands to pepper kisses along my knuckles.

A sigh breezes from my parted lips. His eyes are pools of liquid fire as he shamelessly admires me. I might melt from his smolder. My dopey grin suggests as much.

“Good grief, Callie is sexy.” Harper reappears from serving others in her section. She fans herself, looking positively giddy while assessing her boss’s response. “Is it hot in here? Must be the fumes rising from her cherry cobbler.”

I scowl at what I’ve recently discovered is a code for my virginity. “Very funny.”

“You won’t be laughing when he’s gobbling it.” She mimics the act of eating.

“Harper,” I hiss.

“Don’t pretend your cooter cake isn’t eager for him to have a taste.”

“You’re incorrigible.” I duck my head to hide the flames blazing across my cheeks.

“I’d suggest you knock it off unless you want to lose your job.” Ridge’s authoritative reprimand demands obedience.

It also gains the attention of the guy sitting beside him. “Hey, Crusher. This is unexpected.” He leans over to glance at me. “Got yourself a yummy treat, huh?”

Ridge has the front of the guy’s shirt in a fisted grip before the man has finished speaking. “Care to rephrase that?”

He flounders in the presence of such animosity. “Uhhh…”

Ridge’s jaw ticks. “Is this a prank? Is every dude in my bar that desperate to send me to jail?”

“Nah, Crusher. We’re solid. I was just… making polite conversation. Didn’t mean any harm.” There’s a plea in his statement.

“Doesn’t matter. Leave her out of it.”

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