Page 3 of With A Little Luck
At least, not anywhere that I can see from opening the door two inches and peeking around. Rolling my shoulders back, I give myself a mini pep talk. I can’t stay trapped in here forever, and if I take too long, they could come looking for me.
I exit the bathroom and head down the hallway until it spills into the weird area with the bar on my right and a few booths on my left. It’s less busy here than at the front of the bar, likely because the dance floor is in that direction.
I frown, stopping dead in my tracks.
The guys from earlier linger near the front edge of the bar. To get to the exit, I’ll have to walk right past them.
Dammit.
Why hasn’t anyone stepped in to ask them to stop being creepy assholes?
Probably because no one noticed.
Maybe if I had made a scene, someone would have interceded, but the last thing I need tonight is more drama.
Glancing around, I check for any new parties of women having a girl’s night.
I don’t care if it would be weird.
I would go over and join them.
Girl code says you take in any random woman being harassed by creeps. There’s safety in numbers, but I don’t see any groups of women.
I really should have stayed home tonight.
Okay, I guess I’m going to have to walk closer to the front and use my phone there while ignoring those guys. That, or go up to the bar and ask if they have a bouncer.
I take off down the corridor, but the men walk toward me at the exact same time.
A whimper escapes my lips.
I don’t know what to do, but my instincts scream to run. Spinning around, I prepare to hightail it back to the women’s room until I spot two men sitting at one of the booths on the wall.
The man on my left is huge, with broad shoulders and a plethora of tattoos covering his arms, neck, and chest—at least, what I can see around his T-shirt. He has short dark hair that’s longer on top and shaved close on the sides, stubble, and he’s wearing aviator sunglasses…insidethe bar.
He looks more intimidating than the guys who won’t leave me alone, and that means he can scare them off.
The man laughs and says something to the guy across from him before tipping his beer to his thick lips.
I stumble up to the side of their table and slide into the booth next to the big guy. “I’m sorry to bother you. Can I sit here? Just long enough for those guys to leave me alone, then I promise I’ll go.”
“Of course you can.” His gaze darts between me and the guys who are still meandering closer. “Let’s move you over here. That way, if they decide to come say hello, I’m between you and them.”
I’m not expecting him to twist to the side and lift me, sliding me over his lap and placing me on the inside of the booth.
I squeak and awkwardly bump the table, but the man across from him keeps their beers from spilling.
“Ridge,” the big guy says, tossing his arm over the back of the booth. “That’s Knox.”
“Q-Quincy,” I stutter out as Ridge’s scent hits my nose. It’s so complex that I can’t understand what I’m smelling at first. It’s like tobacco, but the pipe kind with hints of bergamot and leather… He smells like the expensive cologne I sniffed at the mall and fell in love with. Comparing his scent to what I remember reading on the info card is the only way I’m even able to pick out the different notes.
Shit, this might be a problem.
My nose is obsessed.
The overwhelming urge to turn and bury my face in his chest makes my cheeks heat.
Come on, suppressants. Don’t fail me now. You can hold out for a little while longer.
