Because he was right.
And that pissed me off more than anything.
Drew sighed and stepped aside. “I’m not saying go make her your girlfriend. I’m just saying, maybestop pretendingyou don’t want to know what she tastes like.”
I flinched.
He grinned. “Yeah. Thought so.”
I grabbed the crate and walked past him without another word, straight back into the bar.
The moment the door swung open, the noise swallowed me up again—chatter, glasses clinking, the bassline from the jukebox thudding low. But all I could think about was her.
Lydia.
Sitting there in my bar like she belonged. Like she didn’t even realize she was turning every gear in my head until I didn’t know which way was up.
I wasn’t ready to say it out loud.
Hell, I wasn’t even ready to say it tomyself.
But I knew this.
She’d walked into my life like a wrecking ball in lipstick.
And the scariest part?
I was already letting her rebuild something in the ruins.
She walked out of the bar like she didn’t know she’d just lit a match and left me standing in gasoline.
I watched her go—tight ponytail swinging, her bare legs catching the last of the streetlight glow—and I couldn’t stop myself.
Not this time.
I threw my bar rag on the counter and followed her out, the door slamming behind me hard enough to rattle the hinges.
“Lydia,” I called, voice rough and too loud.
She slowed. Turned halfway. Didn’t look surprised to see me.
Like she’d been waiting for me to come after her.
I stopped a few paces away. I didn’t trust myself to get closer. Didn’t trust what I’d do if I let myself stand too close and look too long.
“Did I forget something?” she asked, chin tipped up, all calm and cool like I hadn’t been burning alive from the second she walked into the bar.
“You shouldn’t flirt with Drew,” I said.
It came out more territorial than I meant.
No, that’s a lie. I meant it exactly like that.
She blinked once. “Excuse me?”
“You don’t need to play games.”
“You think I’mplaying?” she said, her voice sharp now. “You think I’m doing this to get a reaction out of you?”