Follow Me Back (A Fight for Me Stand-Alone Novel Book 2) Page 2

  It was a flash.

  The girl looking at me.

  Eyes the greenest green.

  A grassy plain.

  Mossy, warm earth.

  For a second, I lost my footing.

  Lost ground.

  Lost sanity.

  Because just looking at her felt like something profound.

  Before I could evaluate the feeling, I shook it off and twisted my mouth into the smile my ma said I’d always wielded like manipulation.

  And I strode her way.

  2

  Hope

  He caught me staring.

  Crap.

  He caught me staring.

  I jerked forward, trying to hide myself in the fall of my hair.

  It was no use.

  I could feel him approaching.

  Shivers trailed down my spine. I stiffened it, gnawing at my bottom lip when I felt the presence roll over me from behind.

  Potent.

  Powerful.

  Persuasive.

  That was what the man looked like. Persuasion and dominance and sex.

  Like one of those models in a suit with a single hand tucked in the front pocket of his pants, an understated watch showing off his masculine wrist, his face hard and chiseled and angled.

  If he didn’t scream all man, he’d almost be pretty.

  Turbulence shook my spirit.

  I knew his type.

  The type that oozed arrogance and pretension and ego. I knew to stay as far away from his breed as possible.

  What made it worse were the chills that skated across the surface of my skin when he was suddenly right there, his essence a breath across my shoulder. My senses were slammed with a woodsy, citrusy scent. Like an orange zested on a pile of maple leaves and whipped up in a vat of sugar, the concoction doused with the warmth of a sweet whiskey.

  Goodness. The man even smelled smooth.

  A new glass of the same wine I’d been sipping slid in front of me while the man slipped into the vacant stool next to mine. “Thought you could use a refill.”

  I turned to face him, and I had to fight to keep my jaw from dropping right to the floor, because the glimpses I’d been stealing from across the room did absolutely nothing to prepare me for what he actually looked like up close.

  So tall. So obscenely tall. Muscle packed on his long, lean frame. Blond hair short, the front a smidge longer, styled in a polished, immaculate way. Lips plush and soft and dangerous.

  He looked like discord.

  Chaos with an easy, arrogant smile.

  A perfect, controlled disorder.

  I shook my head to break myself from the stupor.

  What he looked like was a damned broken heart. I lifted my chin. “Is that so?”

  As if it were evidence of a crime, I glanced at my glass that was still half full.

  “Mm-hmm. I’m a guy who’s all about being prepared. What kind of man would I be if I ran the risk of you running out?”

  “How chivalrous of you.” I tried my best to force the words from my tongue like darts of sarcasm. But with the way his lip twitched in amusement, I was sure the man picked up on the way my response shook.

  God, I had to be careful, or else I’d be wrapped right around his finger. My gut told me it’d be easy to do.

  Round, round, round, and I’d be nothing but putty stomped beneath the sole of his expensive shoe.

  I traced my fingertip around the rim of my own glass. “But completely unnecessary. I have a one-drink limit.”

  His brow lifted, and something playful danced around his flirty, sensuous mouth. “Ah . . . I see . . . you got wrangled into being the designated driver for your friends? Drew the short end of the stick?”

  I fought the unease that welled in my chest and turned away as I admitted, “Something like that.”

  Truthfully, I would never consider my circumstances as a negative. The short end. A chore or a saddle. But that didn’t mean I had free space to flit my days away. Especially with a man like him.

  Angling his head around, he captured my attention with that potent stare. As if he’d immediately caught on to the current that ran through the center of me. I shook when I got the sense that maybe he was searching for a way to see it, to find what it was made of.

  His brow drew together. “Or this just isn’t your scene?” The flash of a moment passed before he seemed to settle on a conclusion, his eyes dimming in some kind of softness. “I’d put down bets on the latter.”

  Something about his response made my tummy twist and dragged my attention to my best friend.

  Her laughter floated through the air, her voice buoyant as she talked with a few of our other friends, her smile free.

  Everyone there to celebrate her.

  There was no question she was having a great time. Kind of the way she’d been hoping I would when she’d convinced me to come. “It’s my best friend’s birthday. Jenna,” I explained. I turned to look at him, unable to keep out the wobble of affection that fell into the words. “It was kind of mandatory that I show.”

  The flirtation rimming his lips turned to straight seduction, and he edged forward, his words a murmur two beats from the shell of my ear. “And what would she say if I whisked you away from here?”

  There was nothing I could do to stop it. The attraction that throbbed in the center of me.

  Its own entity.

  It lit in the air between us. Heat and a lusty kind of desire.

  There was no denying this beautiful stranger affected me.

  But even sitting there talking with him was reckless. “She’d probably say go for it. I’d say you’re wasting your time.”

  Almost chuckling, he rubbed one of those massive hands over his defined jaw, grin growing wide behind it. “I promise you . . . I’d make sure it wouldn’t come close to being a waste of your time. I’d make good use of every second.”

  The other thing I didn’t like about his arrogant, pretentious kind? They were also presumptuous. They thought they could reach out and take whatever they wanted without it costing them anything. Without a thought toward what it might cost you.

  Ignoring the attraction that blazed at my insides, I rode on the offense and inched in a fraction. My words dropped to the hiss of a breath. “Do I look like the kind of girl who follows a complete stranger out of a bar? You might be on the prowl, but I’m here to celebrate with my friend. Give her my time, because she pretty much gives me all of hers. And honestly, I’m kind of tired of the idea that a man can just snap his fingers and a woman will start peeling off her panties.”

  He jerked back, intense blue eyes going dark. Like the sun setting on Bora Bora, tossing its turquoise waters in a glittering black. As if he were shocked by the rejection and liked it at the same time.

  Or maybe he was just envisioning exactly what that might look like, because his gaze was tracing down, over my skirt, and to my ridiculously high heels I’d had to crawl to the back of my closet to find.

  Slowly, he dragged those darkened eyes back up to my face. A flush pulled across my chest as he went.

  His tongue licked out to run along his bottom lip while I sat there watching the flip.

  The way his entire demeanor shifted into something playful and casual.

  “Well then, as much as I love the idea of you peeling off your panties, you can see I’m not over here snapping my fingers. You just looked like you were having a horrible time, and I thought maybe I could rectify the situation.”

  “Which I can only imagine included the two of us ditching our clothes.” I wanted it to come off as hard. Confident. Instead, it sent a rush to heat my face.

  Ducking down, I bit my lip, cursing myself under my breath. I was so absolutely terrible at this. So out of my element. That alone was enough to remind me I didn’t belong there.

  At a bar where all the rules changed.

  Chuckling under his breath, he stood, towering over me. I shivered when he leaned down, his words just a whisper at my temple.
“If that was what you wanted? Me to wrap you up and steal you away from here? I’d be a fool to pass up the chance. You’re wound up so tight, I’d spend the entire night undoing you. Time and again. But I would never ask you to do something you aren’t comfortable with.”

  His response took me by surprise, and when he straightened, I was a shaky mess. The man cast me a smile and pointed at the full wine glass. “If you get the inclination, drink up. Let go. Just for a little while.” He looked around the bar. “I get the feeling you deserve it more than any one of us.”

  Something gentle swam through the depths of those icy eyes, and my chest tightened in an almost painful way.

  Kindness.

  I saw it there, hiding underneath something so powerful I didn’t have the strength to fathom it.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  He dipped his head and turned away without another word.

  I tried not to watch when he strode back across the bar. But I couldn’t help the furtive peeks, enthralled by the way the man weaved through the high-top tables.

  All causal ease and confidence.

  He got right back to living it up with his group of friends, instantly laughing as if he hadn’t missed a beat, slinging an arm around a big guy’s shoulders as if they’d been friends forever.

  At the yank on my arm, I jerked to find Jenna standing there.

  Brown eyes wide and intrigued, her voice was laced with the scandal. “Who was that tall drink of deliciousness? Good lord, if I knew what this bar was serving up . . .”

  I shook myself out of the daze the man had me in and forced myself back down to reality. “He was nothin’ but a train wreck avoided.”

  “Oh, come on, Hope.” She flung my arm all around with the plea. “You promised me you’d have a good time. One night, remember?”

  Peering up at her, I worried my lip. “I’m sorry. Last thing I want is to be a downer on your party. But you know I have to be careful.”

  “You think I don’t know that, Harley Hope? But that doesn’t mean you have to pretend like you’re dead. I mean, look at you! You are the prettiest girl in the whole damned place, and here you are, wastin’ it.” She hugged my head against her chest, basically burying my face in her boobs as she petted my head as if I were a brand-new puppy.

  There was no stopping my grin.

  “And for the record, the only way you could possibly be a downer on my party is if you weren’t a part of it. Now, get that gorgeous ass up and do a shot with me.”

  “Are you crazy?”

  She hauled me up onto my ridiculous heels, her grin wide and her gaze hazy. “Tonight I am.”

  I hesitated. Sympathy lined her features.

  Because Jenna?

  She got it in a way no one else could.

  She squeezed my hand. “It’s fine, Hope. I promise. You deserve to have a little fun, too.”

  I shook my head, and I gave, letting myself get lost for a little while. Because I knew that, come morning, reality would be waiting for me. It wasn’t going anywhere.

  Two hours later, I stumbled out the front door and into the slowed warmth of the Alabama night. Streetlamps poured a dingy glow across the sidewalk, the area still busy with people moving from one place to the next, the bouncer still at the door standing guard.

  Jenna had insisted she’d walk me out, but I’d refused. The last thing I wanted was to break into her fun. But it was time for mine to end. I’d already indulged in a way I never allowed myself to do.

  Head down, I rushed toward the street where a small line of cabs waited to whisk away the revelers of the night.

  My heel caught in a crack in the sidewalk. My senses dulled, too slow to process it. The way it tipped me and sent me fumbling forward.

  I gasped, nothing I could do but anticipate the nasty faceplant.

  That gasp only grew when a big arm was suddenly around my waist, hauling me back onto my feet, steadying me there.

  My chest heaved, and I already knew by the time he turned me around that it was him.

  Those eyes searched me, carefully, the man almost out of breath as he demanded, “Are you okay?”

  I stepped back, trying to get my bearings.

  I blinked so many times the man had to think I was crazy.

  But Mr. Panty Dropper was right there.

  Hands on the outside of my arms, the contact sending tingles flying across my flesh.

  The worry in his expression shifting to a wry grin. Face so beautiful I couldn’t help but stare.

  Damn that shot.

  Because ideas thrummed through my mind. The dangerous, dangerous kind. Ones that made me question and want and wish I could have something more in my life.

  But I didn’t need more. I had enough—more than enough—and I knew I had to be content with that.

  “You look fine to me,” he said, smirk kicking up at the corner of his mouth.

  Squeezing my eyes closed, I clamored around for my senses, for something to say, mortified the second it came tumbling out. “Are you stalking me now?”

  Amusement played all over that mouth. “Uh . . . you’re serious?”

  I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to put up a wall, a shield, because I could feel this man everywhere. “Of course, I’m serious?”

  Leave it to me that it came out a question.

  A disbelieving chuckle rolled from him, and he hooked his thumb toward the door behind him. “I was standing right here when you came out. Just put my friend in the cab to make sure she made it home safe. You’re the one that came blundering out, Princess. You’re lucky I was out here to save you.”

  He took a single step forward, filling the space.

  Fear tumbled through me.

  Not in a way that made me concerned for my physical well-being. But for the fact this man made me feel things I couldn’t. Not yet. Someday, maybe. But right then, I didn’t have that luxury.

  “Someone’s feeling a little full of themselves tonight.” It was all a rumbly tease.

  “Not even close,” I managed, gulping around the words.

  His expression was back to doing that gentle, knowing thing. His head tipped to the side, and the gorgeous man appeared as if he might actually have the capacity to understand. As if he could see right through me to the heart of the matter.

  I didn’t know if that comforted or terrified.

  “I really need to go,” I told him.

  He reached out, tender when he barely grazed my chin with his knuckle.

  I gasped.

  Shocked by the zing that raced through my nerves. Blooming and tugging right through my middle.

  Hooked.

  A tether drawing me in his direction.

  A magnetic force.

  Powerful and potent and somehow soft.

  Tucking his bottom lip between his teeth, he seemed to contemplate before he nodded and stepped back, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. I know. Go home, sweet girl. You don’t belong here. Just . . .” He wavered and then said, “Can you do me one favor?”

  Unnerved, I blinked.

  Waiting and unsure, because I was sure this man was so utterly different from my first impression of him. So much more than the assumptions I had made.

  “Take care of yourself. Let yourself off the hook once in a while. You deserve to be happy.”

  I let the emotion wind to my mouth. “I am happy.”

  “But fear is holding some of that back.”

  And I knew it then.

  He could see straight through me.

  “There are some things important enough they are worthy of that fear,” I told him, not sure why. Not sure how he made me want to split myself right open and reveal it all to him when I didn’t even know his name.

  His chin ticked up in a quiet kind of understanding, and I gave him a small nod before I turned and opened the door to the cab waiting at the curb.

  I stalled when I heard his voice hit me from behind. “I truly hope whatever is holding it back resolv
es itself quickly.”

  From over my shoulder, I cast him a small smile. “Don’t worry. My heart is always hung on hope.”

  Before I allowed myself to say anything else, I hopped into the backseat of the cab, slammed the door, and didn’t look back when it drove away.

  I gave the driver my address, my thoughts all over the place as we traveled the short distance to my sleeping neighborhood. He pulled up in front of the one-story house on the left, the grassy yard literally hedged in a white-picket fence.

  My emotions warred between satisfaction and dread. This little place rang with hope. I just had to make sure it stayed that way.

  I tossed a twenty into the front seat, mumbled a, “Thank you,” and then stepped out. The click of my heels echoed against the walkway that cut down the center of my yard, the towering trees swaying overhead as I made my way up the two steps to the covered porch.

  I already had my key out, ready to slide it into the lock as I approached the door, when I sensed the movement.

  The hairs lifted at the back of my neck.

  Shivers raced.

  A flood of dread. A sea of apprehension.

  Slowly, I turned, watching as the shape emerged from the shadows.

  Ominous.

  Cold.

  My heart roared, an erratic crash that thundered through my body, lifting to a deafening pound in my ears.

  I took a step back toward the door. “What are you doing here?”

  He laughed a malignant sound.

  That was what he was.

  Malignant.

  Set on destroying the best part of me. For years, I had kept faith that one day he would see. That the stones of anger that lined him would finally crack, and his eyes would be opened to what true beauty actually looked like.

  That he’d understand the world’s definition of perfection was nothing but a falsity.

  Now, I knew better.

  He approached, his steps slow as he moved. “I think the better question would be, what are you doing just getting home?”

  “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

  He laughed again. As if I were ignorant. Small. Foolish. “Anything you do is my business, Harley. Do you really think running off is going to change that?”

  “Yes.” I said it with as much power behind it as I could manage, the sound of the word reverberating through the dense air.