Page 29 of Too Sweet
Pun intended.
We stop at the bar, ordering beers, ready to get a few down our throats before we hit the club. I’m on the hunt, glancing around the room, searching for the perfect woman to take home tonight. Instead of a sharp-featured brunette, I spot a blonde I know all too well.
“Am I paranoid or...” Aisha says, amusement lacing her voice as she stops before us, “...are youstalkingme, Toby?” She grins, their weird, flirtatious tug-of-war about to begin—again.
Toby and Aisha had a thing last year when they spent two weeks traveling all over Mexico. Things were going well till he cut her loose when they got home. He’d never admit it out loud, but he got scared. We’ve been friends for years. I know how he thinks. He was falling in love too fast, so he dumped her.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Toby muses, cuffing Aisha’s wrist to pull her closer. “I read your books,baby girl. I know what you like.”
I tune them out.
Aisha has an undeniable ability to drive me up the wall with her presence alone. I don’t know what it is about her. She can be a bit ostentatious but overall she’s a good kid; yet my blood boils whenever she’s around.
Before she hooked up with Toby, she tried it on with me. I shot her down and she decided we should be friends. Apparently, I was the first guy who saidnotoher, and she took that as a great basis for friendship.
She’s been getting on my nerves ever since.
Most people aren’t comfortable around me. I’ve got a tight circle of friends who know there’s no reason to hold themselves wound up tight in my presence, but everyone else is always wary. Some are downright scared.
Not Aisha. She finds annoying me entirely too entertaining, and now that she’s dancing back and forth with Toby again, I see her more often than I’d like.
I take a long, hard look around the bar, scanning many women and waiting until somethingclicksinside my head.
It does. Louder than a fired gun.
I look again, double-checking my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me.
Fuck.
I squeeze the back of my neck, my entire body flooding with blazing heat. Huffing an exasperated puff of air down my nose, I glance at the ceiling, muttering profanities until the dictionary of filthy words runs dry.
She’s here.
She’s fuckinghere, of all places.
She stands twenty feet away on her toes, despite wearing heels. That’s how tiny she is. Even in heels, she’d fit under my arm without an issue. The baby-blue dress she wears is an inch below the knee, flared from the waist down. Her blonde hair is in two braids hanging down her front to her waist.
The bartender slides a wine glass her way, and she turns around, those emerald greens of hers laser-focused on one of the tables. She’s a far cry from what I got myself used to. Oddly refreshingwiththe aura of goodness humming around her. I never noticed girls like Mia, but she stole my attention with piano, and there was no overlooking her after that.
I move away from the bar on autopilot, following in her footsteps. Thehoneysucklescent lingers like an invisible trail leading to treasure. I catch her wrist before she approaches whichever table she’s heading to. The touch of her skin sends a shot of endorphins through my system, but it’s not enough to ease my flaring temper.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Mia?”
The triplets are in Vegas, and the thought of her not being looked after makes my skin crawl. There are far too many sleazy assholes roaming Newport Beach for a girl like Mia to be out without a bodyguard.
“Why are you shouting at me?” She gawks at my hand holding her wrist. Her eyes narrow, and the self-defense skills my brothers taught her resurface. She glances at my throat, then quickly checks the position of my legs.
She’s afraid. She flinchedagainwhen I touched her.
How the hell am I supposed to deal with her when she’s so skittish? I want to wrap her in my arms, curve her into my chest, and hold her until she calms down, but it’d probably have the opposite effect.
She’s pocket-sized, but she broke Brandon’s nose, and I think she could cause me some damage, too. Explaining to Cody why his little girl felt the urge to take me down would be problematic, so I drop her hand, taking half a step back. I pump my fists, reining in the turmoil of my emotions.
It doesn’t work.
My pulse soars again, whooshing in my ears when I notice fading, yellowy-green bruises dotting Mia’s arms.
Botharms.
