Fall Into You (Morally Gray, #2)(3)

“Okay, you win. Here goes nothing.”

I sigh heavily, then chug the rest of my whiskey. Rising from the chair, I smooth my skirt with damp palms, then cross the room with my chin lifted and my shoulders squared, pretending a confidence I don’t feel.

Dark and Stormy watches me approach with the all the warmth of a contract killer.

By the time I stop at his tableside, I’ve decided to go with the truth rather than some cutesy opening line. In my present state of mind, I doubt I could come up with one, anyway.

“Hello. I don’t want to be here.”

He looks me up and down, his gaze traveling slowly over my figure. After a beat, he says in an unfriendly tone, “Yet here you are.”

We stare at each other in an oddly tense silence, as if both of us are waiting for the other to say something next and think whatever it is, it will be awful.

Finally, I say, “It’s my girlfriend’s birthday.”

A crease forms between his dark brows. “I don’t understand the connection between that and you standing there.”

“She promised me she’d stop trash-talking my ex if I came over and talked to you.”

He thinks about that for a moment. “That’s blackmail.”

“When it comes to Chelsea getting what she wants, all means of coercion are on the table.”

He glances past me. “Which one’s Chelsea?”

“The blonde.”

“She looks harmless.”

“All the most dangerous creatures do.”

He leans back against the booth and tilts his head, showcasing his beautiful jawline. His gaze grows assessing. “Were there any other terms of this blackmail of hers?”

“I have to stay for at least ten minutes.”

“And it’s important to you that she stop trash-talking your ex?”

“Yes.”

I can tell something about that pleases him, but can’t imagine why. He says, “All right. Sit down.”

He gestures to the empty space beside him in the booth. Somehow it doesn’t look like an invitation. Though his mouth is saying I should sit, his expression says he’d prefer I take a hike in a distant, snake-infested wilderness.

Apparently, he only likes to stare at women, not speak to them.

Too bad for him I’m not intimidated by cranky men with bad manners.

I sit beside him and smile politely. “I’d apologize for the inconvenience, but I think I’m going to enjoy annoying you for the next ten minutes.”

“Why would you want to annoy me?”

“You look like a lot of women’s biggest regret.”

We stare at each other in another tense silence. Only this time, I can smell his cologne. Spice, musk, something woodsy. Sexy and expensive. I can also see the color of his eyes, a fathomless dark blue that could be beautiful if it wasn’t for their hardness.

His tone low and his gaze piercing, he finally says, “And you look like a diamond some clown discarded so he could play with dirt. How long were you and this clown together?”

Startled, I blink. “Hang on. I’m trying to pick myself up off the floor.”

“What do you mean?”

“Is it really so obvious I’ve been dumped? How awful.”

“It’s your whole vibe. You’re like one of those shelter dogs.”

“Pardon?”

“You know. Barks real loud and acts tough, but only because it’s scared it’s about to get kicked again. And your man didn’t dump you. He freed you. He did you a favor. Take all that energy back that you’re wasting mourning the relationship and focus it on yourself. A queen doesn’t need the love of the village idiot.”

A breathless laugh of disbelief escapes me. I can’t decide if this guy is a mind reader, a genius, or a just a jerk.

I also can’t decide if he’s complimenting me or not. In the same breath he called me a queen, he compared me to an abused animal. Also, his entire demeanor suggests he thinks I’m a hopeless case who shouldn’t be allowed to vote.

“And here I thought Chelsea was the trash talker. We’re not even two minutes into the conversation, and you’ve already called my ex a clown and an idiot.”

“That’s being generous. Because any man who’d let a woman like you go is nothing but a little bitch.”

Captivated by this strange person and his even stranger manner of speech, I angle my body toward his and focus my attention on him more fully. “You don’t know me. I could be the bitch. Maybe I drove him away by being too needy.”

He shakes his head, a sharp motion that makes a lock of dark hair fall out of place. It settles onto his forehead, boyishly charming.

“There’s no such thing as too needy. The wrong person will never be able to meet your needs. Stop giving people grace who make you feel like you’re the problem. And stop holding on to who he pretended to be. He lied.”

Our gazes clash but hold. A frisson of electricity passes between us, supercharging the air.

Despite his prickly personality, the man is undeniably attractive.

After a moment, he looks away. He takes a swig of his drink and sets the glass on the table. A muscle flexes in his angular jaw. When he speaks again, his voice is gruff.

“I recently went through a breakup too.”