Page 51 of Phishing for Love
His jaw tight, Aaron places his body between me and the drunken guy. I’m stunned and slightly charmed at this protective side that’s come out.
“She’s taken,” he says, the words almost a growl.
“Relax, man, I didn’t know.”
“Now you do.”
In the next second, his friends are steering him away and Aaron visibly relaxes, turning to face me. Those eyes of his zero in on mine, and it takes everything in me not to look away. This is the first time I’ve stood so close to him. His expression is a mix of concern and something else I can’t read.
He’s right in what he said, though.
I am taken.
Dragging my gaze away from his, I say lightly, “Well, that was my excitement for the evening.”
Aaron frowns. “It’s a little chaotic in here,” he points out. “You’re welcome to sit with me until your friends arrive.”
A ripple of relief moves through me. I wasn’t looking forward to fighting the crowd and trying to flag down a bartender. “Thanks. I’ll take you up on that.”
I hop onto the bar stool. I’m wearing a tight, short skirt, and I notice Aaron make a concerted effort not to stare at my legs.
“What can I get you to drink?”
“A beer, please.”
I reach for my purse, but Aaron waves me away. “I got it.”
He makes his way through the dense crowd to the bar in four long strides, people unconsciously parting for his tall, broad form.
He’s back in no time with our beers. I tap my bottle with his. “To the weekend.”
“The weekend,” he echoes, although he doesn’t sound as enthusiastic as I do at the prospect of not going into work for two days.
The cold liquid goes down smoothly. I let out a soft sigh of satisfaction, feeling my shoulders relax, the knots in my back loosen.
Aaron’s gaze flicks over me. I took extra care with my appearance today, going for a chic French look. My hair is caught up in an elegant chignon, drawing attention to my classic gold hoop earrings. I’m wearing a striped, collared shirt with my mid-thigh black skirt. A bold, red lipstick completes my look. Nathan’s been distracted for most of this week, and I’m determined to capture his attention tonight.
As though he can divine my intentions, Aaron says, “So, you and Nathan, huh?”
“Yup, me and Nathan.”
He takes a contemplative sip of his beer. His shirt sleeves are rolled up, showing tanned forearms corded with muscle. I look away.
“How long have you been seeing him?” Aaron asks.
“A year.”
“Long time.”
“It is.” I pick at the label on my bottle. “We’re really comfortable with one another.”
He raises an eyebrow. I don’t know if it’s just me, but that eyebrow looks awfully judgmental.
He seems to weigh his words before speaking again. “That’s how you describe your relationship? Comfortable?”
“Comfortable is a good thing,” I reply, feeling defensive, though I’m not sure why.
“Sounds boring.”
