Page 16 of From Air

“Are your teeth chattering?” Betty asks, pausing her wineglass at her lips.

Said teeth chatter while I nod several times.

She chuckles. “Then put your coat on.”

“Then it looks like I’m leaving.”

Betty offers me an eye roll just as the door opens again.

“Be r-right b-back,” I say, grabbing my clutch and navigating toward the back of the bar as if I’m using the ladies’ room instead of searching for heat.

“Could you be more underdressed?”

I turn toward the bar, where Calvin Fitzgerald is perched on a stool with a mug of whatever beer’s on tap in his hand. He makes an agonizingly slow inspection of my dress while wetting his lips.

I had fewer goose bumps standing by the door.

“It’s the only dress I brought with me, and I didn’t have time to shop for a new one.” I hug myself, rubbing my bare arms.

“It’s, uh ...” Fitz’s gaze lingers on my bare legs and red heels.

My heart races, and my fingernails scratch at my skin because I’m a fidgeter, and I think I like how he’s looking at me. And that’s wrong.

It’s against the rules.

I know he’s just toying with me, so I drop my arms and pull my shoulders back as if I’m ready for the paparazzi to take my picture. “See something you like?” I’m not letting him have the upper hand. I’m still planning my revenge.

What is it? I have no idea, but it’s still on course to be epic.

His gaze flicks to mine, and his eyes are a little bloodshot. A slow grin works its way up his face. “I don’tnotlike it.”

Oh my god!

I’m not drunk. I’ve had three sips of wine. He’s the one with impaired ... everything. It’s a game. Unfortunately, I like this game a little too much.

I like when he looks at me as if I could be his dinner. That’s messed up. Right?

His gaze abandons mine again, and it takes me a few seconds to register his new point of focus.Pointsof focus.

My erect nipples.

Damn Missoula weather!

Crossing my arms, I clear the frog from my throat. “I gotta get back to my friends. Do you need a ride home?”

He finds my face again. “I’m good. Thanks.”

“Good.” I nod. “That’s good.”

Fitz sets his beer mug on the bar and steps down from the stool, putting us so close I can feel his body heat. As he reaches for my neck, I turn to stone—a stone with a racing pulse. Sliding my gold chain between his fingers, he inspects the round pendant with a sand dollar in the middle. It belonged to my mom. And I would tell him that if I could speak.

“I have to use the men’s room.” He releases my necklace and brushes past me.

Whoosh!

I expel a huge breath and regain my composure before rejoining the birthday party.

For the rest of the night, my gaze wanders to the bar. Fitz buys another beer and plays pool with a guy he seems to know, from the way they’re laughing and chatting.

---