Page 39 of Wish Lists and Road Trips

“Okay, then,” she said. “Show me.”

I stepped behind her and took hold of her elbow. She settled against my chest, head just below my chin, and my eyes inadvertently dropped to her cleavage. Thankfully, she didn’t notice.

“Just toss nice and easy,” I said, showing her how to weigh the beanbag. “Don’t chuck it.”

She nodded and I guided her hand back and forth a few times, letting her weigh it, feel the right motion.

“You got it?”

“I got it.” Her tongue peeked out to wet her bottom lip and she stared at the target. I forced myself to step back as she lined it up just like I showed her, bending her knees to toss it.

And she completely missed the board.

I groaned. “You’re killin’ me, Smalls.”

Her mouth hung open as if the possibility of failure hadn’t even occurred to her and it was so adorable, I wrapped my arms around her shoulders, laughing. Brit giggled with me, a little snort punctuating the rise and fall of it, and I was fucking smitten.

“I need another drink,” she decided.

“That’s not likely to help,” I whispered in her ear.

She tipped her head, smiling. “Rude.”

I let her go and followed her through the crowd, waiting a step behind while she put more drinks on the tab I’d started. The bartender liked her better and I didn’t want to wait all night.

She’d just ordered when the guy beside her slid down the bar until his arm touched hers. It didn’t matter where you were in the world, some things were always the same: As soon as a pretty girl leans against a bar, Some Fucking Guy is in her space. This guy had a backwards camo hat and his hand brushed her lower back while he whispered something in her ear.

My fingers curled into a fist, but I forced myself to stay put, let her handle it. She’d made it clear she didn’t like me looking out for her. And I wasn’t entirely sure looking out for her was where my reaction was coming from anyway.

She came back with a beer for me and a cocktail for herself. Plus two more tequila shots balanced in her palm. I took them from her and downed mine. “What’d that guy want?” I blurted.

She raised an eyebrow, and I knew how it sounded, but I still wanted to know.

Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she said, “That’s Dean. He was just being friendly.”

I made a neanderthal grunt sound in the back of my throat, and took my beer.

“What?”

“This is why I didn’t want you to come here alone.”Good job, Nick. You made it thirty seconds.

Brit smiled like a patient babysitter. “Why? Because a guy might hit on me?”

“I don’t like the look in his eye.” Caveman shit aside, he was still staring at her and it wasn’t just impolite—it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I stepped closer and rested my hand on her hip, letting him see me claim my spot as her friend or personal protection or whatever the hell I was there to be.

I whispered in her ear, letting him see that too. “Be careful, please.”

She held my eyes, a challenge on her lips, but a group of rowdy women wearing plastic tiaras and hot-pink sashes pushed up to the bar around us, forcing us apart. I let go of Brit and she gave the women the same open, friendly smile she’d given that guy. She really had no sense of danger whatsoever. To her, everyone was a new adventure.

“Cool bracelets,” a short redhead said.

“Thanks.” Brit shook her wrist and a seashell charm caught the light. “They’re from Nicaragua. Handmade.”

“No shit.” They all came closer to get a better look.

“Is this your boyfriend?” one of them asked, pointing at me like I was part of the decor.

“Mm-hmm,” Brit said at the same time as I assured them I was not. Brit’s eyes snapped to mine, her lips parted, and I felt like I’d said the wrong thing, though I had no idea why.

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