Foreplay: The Ivy Chronicles by Sophie Jordan Read Free Book Online Page B

right?”
    I nodded. “Fine.” I nodded toward Scott. “You can
let him go.”
    Scott was blubbering now. I couldn’t decipher his
speech. It was more sobs than words.
    Tightly bunched muscles eased beneath my fingers
and I realized I was still clinging to the bartender’s bicep. And yet I didn’t
release him. Not right away. I looked down at that arm as if I had to see for
myself where our flesh connected. Where his tan skin met my pale fingers. My
hand curled over part of his tattoo, and I imagined the inked skin felt warmer
there. Unthinkingly, I brushed at the dark edge of the wing and something inside
me squeezed and twisted. I dropped my hand.
    He tore his gaze off me and looked down at Scott
again. He lifted his other hand and Scott flinched like he expected another
punch. Instead he pointed down the narrow hall. “Get out of my bar.”
    Scott nodded fiercely, his face a mess. I winced.
It hurt just looking at him. He scrambled to his feet, mumbling, “I’ll just get
my friend.”
    Scott was almost out of the hall when the bartender
called after him, indifferent to the customers who glanced curiously in our
direction. “I don’t want to see you in here again.”
    Nodding, he scurried off.
    Alone with my rescuer, I inhaled into lungs that
suddenly felt impossibly tight, too small for air. “Thank you.”
    He faced me. “I saw him follow you into the
hall.”
    I cocked my head. “You were watching me?”
    “I saw you pass by.”
    So yes. He was watching me.
    Silence filled the air. I rubbed my hands along my
thighs. “Well. Thanks again. I hope you don’t get in trouble with your boss for
any of this. If you need me to vouch for you—”
    “I’ll be all right.”
    Nodding, I stepped past him, took three strides and
stopped. Turning, I pushed the wayward fall of hair back from my face and asked,
“What’s your name?”
    It just seemed absurd to keep thinking of him as
The Bartender. I didn’t want to go back to my dorm tonight, lie in bed, and
stare into the dark thinking about him—because I knew I would—and not know his
name.
    “Reece.” He stared at me, through me, his expression impassive, unsmiling.
    “Hi.” I moistened my lips and added, “I’m
Pepper.”
    “I know.”
    I nodded lamely. The napkin. Of course. With a
shaky smile, I stepped out into the main room.
    I was halfway to the pool table when Emerson was
there, her eyes enormous in her round face. “What happened to that guy’s face?
It looked like a truck hit him, and he practically ran out of here.”
    I linked arms with her and steered her toward the
exit. “The bartender happened.”
    “What?” Her cheeks flushed. “Like he got jealous
and . . . hit him?”
    I winced. “More like Scott tried to suck my face
off against my protests and Reece intervened.”
    “Reece?” she echoed.
    “Yeah. He has a name.”
    Shaking her head, she looked at me in awe as we
stepped outside. “I think you’ve gotten more than his attention, Pep.”
    I snorted. “He was just doing his job—”
    She shot me a look. “He’s a bartender. How is
kicking some guy’s ass for getting fresh in his job description?”
    “He’s not about to let a customer get accosted
outside the bathroom.”
    She looked skeptical as we weaved our way out into
the parking lot. “You just don’t see it. You don’t know how to see it. Trust me. He’s going to call you.”
    I wasn’t as naïve as Emerson claimed. He could have
kept me longer in that hall, said something more to fill that awkward stretch of
silence. For being such a player, he didn’t make any moves on me. He didn’t even
smile.
    No. He wouldn’t call. This wasn’t me being
negative. I just knew.

Chapter 6
    H e didn’t call the next day, and despite convincing myself that he wouldn’t, I had hoped that just maybe Emerson was right.
    Naturally, I blamed her. Em’s words niggled their way inside me and fed hope where there normally wouldn’t be. I couldn’t stop glaring at