My chin quivered as it all became too much. “Okay, but it’s kinda hurting me though.”
He immediately dropped my hand. In the blink of an eye, his whole demeanor changed. Returning in full force was the mercurial man who’d captured my attention on the courthouse steps. “Right. Well, I have a lot of work to do before I can get to sleep tonight. The IBALS can be exhausting. Have a spectacularly mediocre time at your convention. I hope the lectures on real estate are utterly riveting. It was decent seeing you again, Remi.”
I bit my bottom lip, knowing exactly what he was doing and appreciating it more than words could express. He wasn’t being a dick. That wasn’t in Bowen’s nature. But he’d given me the out I so desperately needed to escape this conversation guilt-free.
“Decent?” I teased.
He shrugged. “Well, you were with another man and then spilled a glass of wine. Almost cost me my best handkerchief too. It definitely could have gone better.” His chin tipped in a curt nod. “Have a good night.” With that, he left. Turning to face me one last time but still walking away, he chuckled and shook his head. “The other nerds are never going to believe this.”
Just as I had that day at the courthouse, I watched him go, admiring Mr. Tall, Dark, and Nice Ass all over again.
That should have been the end of it. I should have gone to my room, packed my bags, checked out, and driven to another hotel across the city. Or better yet, just driven home. However, rationality was not in charge.
With wine still squishing in my shoes, I chased after him, catching up as he waited for the elevator.
“I wasn’t with another guy,” I stated.
He didn’t look at me, but I caught the reflection of a smile in the closed metal doors. “I know. As much shit as you give me about being a nerd, that guy would have been a real step down for you.” He shot me a teasing side-eye. “Did you see those pants?”
I laughed, and with my next inhale, it felt as though my lungs fully expanded for the first time in months. “Also, I didn’t spill the wine as much as I knocked it over on him.”
“What? Ms. Grey, you’re a menace. I saved that hopeless man.”
“You probably did. He didn’t even tell me his name before he thought it was a good idea to put his hand on my thigh.”
All the humor on his face vanished, rage swelling in its place. “What the fuck?” With brows drawn, he peered over my head to the bar in the center of the lobby, his golden gaze darting around. The minute he located the asshole in question, he abandoned the elevator. Long strides carried him back toward the bar.
“No, no, no!” I jumped in front of him, my hand against his chest. “It’s fine. I took care of it. Then you took care of it. Nice touch with the whole I’m-the-love-of-her-life bit. Forget about that asshole. He paid for a drink that he’s wearing home. That’s enough for me.”
“It’s fucking not enough for me.”
“Yeah, well, Karma has a way of working these things out. I’m relatively sure he pissed off the bartender too, so he’ll be drinking foamy beers and virgin cocktails for the rest of his stay. Not everyone at the IBALS can be as dashing as you. Cut him some slack.”
“Oh, I’ll cut something, but it’s not going to be slack.”
I barked a laugh. Bowen was a man through and through. I was positive that, if a situation arose, he could handle himself, but that handsy mouth-breather was not a situation. He was a dumbass who had most likely paid to lose his virginity on his thirtieth birthday. I was not going to be the reason the cops got called.
“That motherfucker won’t even be able to count to ten when I’m done with him. Let alone do any accounting.”
“All right, Samuel L. Jackson. Let’s bring the motherfuckers down a notch.”
The hinges of his jaw ticked, but his gaze finally bounced back to mine. “And it wasn’t a bit.”
“Huh?”
“The whole I’m-the-love-of-her-life thing. It wasn’t a bit, and you damn well know it.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. No. It hadn’t been a bit at all. Which was exactly why I’d tried to avoid the topic by attempting to escape to my room to begin with.
Speaking of…
“Oh boy, would you look at how late it’s getting.” I faked a yawn and walked back to the elevator, repeatedly stabbing the already lit button.
“Remi, it’s five thirty.”
“I know,” I spoke through another faux yawn, this time adding in a stretch for good measure. “The time change. The jet lag. Traveling. It’s been a long day.” None of which was true. I’d leisurely driven the four-ish hours up to Charlotte, never crossing a time zone. But I’d take any excuse at the moment. Even the made-up kind.
