Page 12 of Boulder's Weight

I should say yes.

I should finish my drink, pay my tab, and get the hell out of here.

Never come back to this bar.

Maybe even beg Tara for forgiveness and find another Mexican city to start over in.

But I'm tired of running.

And one night—one more night of forgetting who I am and what I'm running from—sounds too tempting to pass up.

"Depends," I hear myself say. "You offering something worth sticking around for?"

His grin widens, and I know I'm playing with fire.

But fire has always drawn me, even when I know I'll get burned.

"Oh, I think I can come up with something," he says.

Three drinks in, and we're laughing like old friends.

Boulder's hand rests on my thigh, fingers tracing idle patterns that send sparks shooting through me.

The bar seems to have faded away, leaving just the two of us in our own little bubble.

"You never told me what really happened a couple months back," he says suddenly, his green eyes serious as they flick to where my black eye used to be. "With your eye."

I stiffen immediately, the pleasant buzz from the alcohol evaporating. "And I'm not going to."

He studies me for a long moment, then nods. "Fair enough. We all got our secrets."

Relief floods through the second he drops it.

Most men would push, would demand to know, would try to fix it.

But Boulder just accepts it and moves on.

"So..." he says, leaning in closer. "You want another drink, or you want to get out of here?"

The smart answer is another drink.

Stay in public.

Don't go anywhere private with him.

Don't risk exposing yourself any more than you already have.

But I'm so fucking tired of being smart—of being afraid, of looking over my shoulder.

"Let's get out of here," I say, downing the last of my whiskey.

His eyes darken with desire, and he throws some bills on the bar, not waiting for change.

His hand finds the small of my back as he guides me toward the door, and I know what I’m getting myself into.

The touch is possessive in a way that should scare me, but instead sends a thrill through my body.

Outside, the night air has cooled slightly, but it does nothing to ease the heat building inside me.

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