Page 21 of Stroke of Fate

“Enjoy your dinner. Let us know if you need anything else.”

I leave them to their meal, heading in a direction that’s anywhere but here. Halfway to the bar, I sense him behind me—my stomach dips, and heat radiates at my back from his presence, but I force myself to keep walking.

With every step I take, he follows, but I refuse to stop until a hand reaches out and forces me to. I spin around quickly, not looking up at him. I don’t trust myself enough to resist those whiskey-colored eyes that seem to draw me in so effortlessly.

Instead, my gaze locks onto the hand wrapped loosely around my wrist. His tan fingers are long and slender, the heat from his palm sending tingles up my arm. I resist the urge to pull away. Not because he’s hurting me, but because it feels too good having his skin brand mine.

My traitorous mind wonders what it would be like to have those hands explore other parts of my body, parts far more sensitive than my wrist.

When his hand gently squeezes mine, I snap my gaze to his, afraid I may have said that last part out loud.

His expression is solemn, almost regretful, and it’s such a stark contrast to the sly grin and cocky attitude he sported before that I’m not sure what to say or do.

“Bear, I wanted to say I’m—”

“Ohmigod, I thought it was you!”

A voice akin to nails on a chalkboard cuts him off, and he scowls at someone over my shoulder.

When I follow the direction of the voice, I fight the urge to roll my eyes.

Of course, it’s attached to what can only be described as a redheaded Barbie. Whoever she is, she’s overdressed for a place like Static and way too eager to see someone who looks like he’d be anywhere but in her line of sight.

Barbie makes a beeline for us, and I quickly pull my hand free from his hold. He looks like he’s about to make another grab for it, but I narrow my eyes at him in a silent warning. His brow lifts as if to say, “Don’t pretend you didn’t like it.”

I swallow down my response when redheaded Barbie slides in between us. She barely glances in my direction, instead focusing all her attention on him.

“I can’t believe I bumped into you here, of all places,” she practically purrs, curling a hand around his shoulder.

The move is possessive, almost sensual. And it’s like she knows she can get away with it. Either because she's just that confident or worse—she’s done it before.

I don’t know what happened between them, but something tells me it wasn’t nothing.

Was she the person in his shower yesterday?

The thought stirs something sharp and ugly inside me.

I have never been the jealous or possessive type, yet here I am, ready to peel every single one of her fingers off someone I have no claim over.

“Sadie, nice seeing you again.” His words are polite enough, but his tone is flat.

Sadieeither doesn't notice or care, still beaming up at him like he hung the moon.

She bats her fake eyelashes. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to see each other during summer break.”

It takes all my effort not to snort. God, can she be any more obvious?

And if Sadie is telling the truth, she couldn’t have been in his shower, so it must have been another girl. This is why I can't entertain anything with him. Not that I'm considering it, but if I were, this proves it would be a mistake.

My face must betray the irritation thrumming beneath my skin because his gaze finds mine instead of hers when he responds.

“We were in the middle of something.” He shrugs his shoulder hard enough for her hand to slip off.

Watching it fall to her side, where it should have stayed, makes me bite my lower lip to hide my smile. Knowing he’s shutting her down shouldn’t make me this elated.

Sadie scowls at me like it’smyfault he’s not interested in talking to her, but I ignore her. I’m not the threat she thinks I am.

“Actually, we weren’t.” Ignoring the tick in his jaw, I stick to my guns. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work.”

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