Page 51 of Behind the Bench

This fucking woman.

I’m irrationally turned on by her and the fire she is constantly spitting at me. I wonder if she brings that fire into the bedroom. I bet she's a damn minx in bed.

Fighting the semi that is slowly growing in my pants, I turn to look at the bartender who seems to be even more enraptured by Ellie and her attitude. “I’ll take a double of Basil Hayden,” I say to him, trying to break his damn stare on Ellie. “On the rocks,” I add with a bit of venom.

So much for sticking to beer.

Both the bartender and Ellie turn to look at me. The drop of venom in my voice does its job because he is no longer looking at her, and now she is looking at me.

“Put it on my tab,” I say, dismissing the bartender but holding Ellie’s stare.

I’m not sure where this caveman personality of mine came from but Ellie doesn’t seem to mind it at all. No, her eyes and smile tell me that shelikesit.

I can’t help myself. I grab her barstool and pull her closer to me so she’s nestled in between my legs. Ellie gulps. I stare at her throat as it bobs and practically invites me to bite it.

She must be able to read my mind because the next thing she does is flick her hair over her shoulder and tilt her head to the side. She’s fuckingbeggingfor it.

I lean in closer, but stop a few inches away, giving her a chance to pull back.

“Two shots of tequila and a double Basil Hayden on the rocks.”

We both jump back, the moment broken as he pushes our drinks closer to us. Ellie doesn’t hesitate, she grabs a shot of tequila, throwing it back without any salt. She doesn’t even flinch before she grabs the second and throws that one back too.

I’m not sure if I should be impressed or concerned with how unaffected she is by straight tequila.

I slowly bring my glass to my lips and stare at this woman before me, trying like hell to figure out where we go after another almost kiss I wish we would’ve fucking connected on.

Before she can freak out over our stolen moment, I try to think of something, anything, to keep her here with me instead of fleeing. I let the bourbon warm my chest and I say the only thing that comes to mind. “So, about that karaoke story…”

Ellie looks relieved that I’ve decided to ignore our heated moment and change the subject. She tucks the stray piece of hair I’ve been itching to touch behind her ear before breaking out into a grin. Damn, I could stare at that smile all day.

“It’s probably the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to me,” she says before diving into a full-blown story about how she fell off the stage in Nashville while singing Eric Church. At one point she even stands to reenact how her foot got tangled up in the speaker cords, before performing a ballerina-esque twirl and pretending to fall face first off the stage.

She sits back down in her barstool, and I’m both surprised and elated that she doesn’t scoot it back to its original position. She’s still sitting snug between my legs, close enough for me to smell the tequila on her breath.

My aversion to tequila seems to be a distant memory at this point, because there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to taste it off her tongue right now.

“But imagine me falling three feet off the stage into a pile of drunk bachelorettes.” She smiles at me. “I’ll never show my face at Alan Jackson’s bar ever again.” She’s laughing as she says it, and I can’t help but join in.

Feeding off the energy between us, I take a chance and rest my hand on the top of her knee while sipping my bourbon with the other. Ellie glances down to look at the connection. I’m about to pull away when she rests her hand on my opposite knee and then looks up at me.

We sit like that for the next twenty minutes, lost in our own little bubble, telling embarrassing stories from college. Ellie sounds like someone I would’ve gotten into a lot of trouble with in my twenties.

Hell, she’s someone I’d like to get into a lot of trouble with in my thirties.

I can’t believe the girl who tainted my childhood is sitting across from me, stealing my breath one smile at a time. It’s like I’m in an alternate universe, and I’ve forgotten everything we’ve ever done to each other in the past. I’ve struggled with separating Ellie from my father’s manipulation and abuse. All I had were horrible memories of us being cruel together as kids and teens, and my father comparing me to her every single day of my life. But now that she’s here sitting in front of me, coaching and rebuilding a team next to me, I’m starting to see that Ellie is so much more than my mind made her out to be.

The apology works its way up my throat and is sitting on the tip of my tongue. I go to open my mouth but am interrupted by a southern, twangy voice.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to another rowdy night of karaoke at The Cracked Mug.”

Ellie’s attention is immediately pulled away from me as she turns in her seat to watch the DJ. I’m not sure what I did to deserve it, but she keeps her hand on my knee while waiting tosee who is singing first. I mean, there’s only about eight of us in this entire bar, so that leaves about six options.

She turns her head to me. “Wait until you hear Sadie sing. She’s going to blow your mind.”

Ellie turns back to the stage but I don’t take my eyes off of her. That is until I hear the next words out of the DJ’s mouth.

“And to start us off tonight singing ‘You Look Like You Love Me’ is Ellie and Lincoln!”

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