I turned to Clint when he called my name, loud enough to be heard over the music. “What?”
He squinted. “What were you looking at?”
I shook my head. “Nothing. There was a man who wasn’t dressed for the club, but he left. What’s wrong, Clint? Do you not trust our waitress?”
The look he gave me said he didn’t, and he wanted to give her a piece of his mind. He shook his head. “No, I don’t. Don’t want to say this, but we need to get the hell out of here. I got a bad feeling, and I don’t ignore those.”
“YOU weren’t kidding,” I breathed when Clint parked his SUV in front of a tiny one-car garage.
He scowled at me. “About what?”
I smiled. “You really aren’t far from Mom, and the jackass owners of this place did let it fall into disrepair. I used to pass by here when I would jog, and it made me so mad to see it run down. I’m glad you bought it.”
I thought those words would cheer him up, since the entire drive home he was broody and silent. His closed eyes and deep sigh said otherwise.
“What?” I whispered.
He opened his eyes. “Rae. I don’t know what the fuck happened at the club, but I know we’ve got to get inside.”
I stood at his front door admiring the front porch. Two rocking chairs were angled next to a small round patio table. I could see Clint sitting out here since all the other homes were picturesque and the trees lining the street would make for a lovely view in the evenings. The wooden railing looked to be brand new, but I didn’t have time to look any closer before Clint guided me inside.
He handed me my overnight bag, locked the door, and jerked his head signaling me to follow him. I toed off my high-heel sandals and followed him on bare feet.
His house was deceptive. From the street it appeared to be tiny due to how narrow it appeared, but the house had depth and it surprised me how spacious the living room was. An overhead light came on, and I saw the rich, gleaming mahogany floors.
I turned wide eyes to him, but his narrowed eyes killed my excitement.
“Where are your shoes, Rae?”
Dropping my bag to the floor next to the couch, I looked to the front door and back to him. “I took them off at the door. My feet are killing me.”
His lips formed a cross between pursed lips and a pout. “How bad are they killing you?”
My brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
He dipped his chin while his eyes heated. “Always loved you in heels, Raegan.”
I did a slow nod. “Ah. I can go—”
“I’ll get ‘em. You want something to drink? Seeing as I know there won’t be any drugs in a drink I make you?”
I blinked so I wouldn’t roll my eyes. “Do you really think there was something in my drink, Clint?”
My breath wheezed out of me when I saw the look on his face. I should have known better, and deep down, I did know better. Attempting to brighten the mood in the SUV when we got here had been a massive fail, so I shouldn’t have asked about the drink. Even if it was a valid question to me, Clint had a way of taking questions as an affront on his ability to read a situation.
“Yeah, I fuckin’ do, Raegan. Hate to tell you this, but I’ve been in there twice a month for the past five years. Our waitress is one of the better ones there, and she’s good not just because she’s fast, but also because she makes eye contact. When she left those drinks, she wouldn’t look either of us in the eye. That always raises a red flag for me.”
I put my hands in front of me. “Okay, all right. I didn’t mean to poke the bear, so to speak. It just seemed like—”
He sauntered into my personal space to take my hands and wrap them around his back. His voice lost all the irritation from a moment ago. “I know what it seemed like, honey. Sorry to take my attitude out on you, it’s just that I shouldn’t have taken us dancing. It’s too soon for that when there’s a threat out there.”
While he spoke, one hand slid around to the back of my head while the other moved down and around my shoulders.
“I suppose I should’ve reminded you. But I got a little excited when you mentioned it on the phone,” I whispered.
His eyes traveled from mine down to my lips, reminding me how expressive his eyes could be. He lowered his head and kissed me slow, sweet, and short.
“I caught your excitement earlier too, babe. Now, do you want another margarita, or do you want some Bushmills?”
I blew out a breath because I did love a whiskey before bed, but I knew better than to chase tequila with whiskey.
“If you have the mix, I’ll go with a margarita.”
After a gentle peck, he said, “You got it.”
Spending time with Clint again, many things were the same and yet so many were different by just a hint of nuance. He’d always get me something to drink at night, but it was rare he gave me options. Thinking back on it, we probably didn’t have many options ten years ago. Dancing with him was much the same, but there was that added degree of more experienced dancing, which made sense if he went there as frequently as he said. Sex also fell into this boat. It was damn similar, but better because of the nuances of difference.
I remembered
