Katee Robert: In Bed with Mr. Wrong

What? Bri made a conscious effort to close her mouth before she spoke without thinking. Why would anyone assume that he’d have an alcohol problem? She knew for a fact Drew stopped by the local bar most days after work to have a beer, and there had never been a whisper of anything like that.

The waiter approached, all smiles and cheer, giving her the much-needed break to figure out how she was supposed to respond. She ordered a red wine while she considered, while Ryan ordered Drew’s favorite locally made beer. For all his negativity toward this town and its people, he’d obviously maintained a few roots of his own.

As soon as the waiter walked away, the charm he’d conjured up fled from Ryan’s face. Before she could say anything, he charged on, “And that’s not even getting started on how every single person here is so integrated in the past that they can’t step into the future.”

“There’s nothing wrong with having an appreciation of the past. It defines us.”

“Some of us don’t want to be defined by a drunk asshole of a father, or things we did when we were snot-nosed kids.”

He said it so matter-of-factly, it took her half a second to process his words. A drunk father? She’d known Drew for nearly a year and he’d never once mentioned anything like that. All she knew was that both his parents were gone, just like hers, but he never went into the details.

She unfolded her napkin, moving slower than normal as she processed the information and held it up to what she knew of Drew and Ryan. Maybe his leaving Wellingford had more to do with leaving his father behind than leaving the town? “I’m sorry.”

He frowned, as if waiting for her to say something else. But what else could she say? She hadn’t had the easiest of childhoods, either.

The line between his brows deepened when she didn’t jump in. “Whatever you’re thinking, knock it off.”

She laid her napkin in her lap. “I was just thinking that you and I aren’t that different.”

“Get that thought right out of your head, Bri. You’re wrong. You and I are nothing alike.”

Funny, but she wasn’t so sure anymore.

For all her talk of their being alike, she pitied him. Ryan could see it on her face. This was why he never came home. It didn’t matter that he’d moved on with his life and made something of himself, or that he was part of one of the most elite professions within the Air Force. They’d never see him as anything other than Ryan Flannery, Drunk Billy’s youngest boy, and the Boy Who Burned Down the High School.

The people here had no desire to know the real Ryan. The woman sitting across from him was no different. Hell, she fit in here better than he ever had.

As much as it pained him to admit, there was something about her that got under his skin. He shouldn’t care what this near stranger thought of him. She was no one.

Except he did care. It didn’t make any sense. She wasn’t flashy or oozing sex appeal like some of his exes, but she had an understated look that made him sit up and take notice.

She smiled as the waiter brought their food, and even thanked him as if she really was the sweet woman Ryan had been promised. As the man walked away, she took a bite of her spaghetti, closed her eyes, and made a sound that he’d remember to his dying day. It was a cross between a whimper and a moan and it brought to mind all sorts of thoughts he had no business entertaining.

He shifted, unable to take his gaze off her face, and equally unable to stifle his body’s reaction to her. Holy shit . She looked even softer with her eyes closed and a small smile on her face. His body went on high alert, his instincts demanding he reach across the table and touch her. He must have let some of that desire through, because when she opened her eyes, she blushed.

“Stop staring at me.”

“We’re on a date. Staring goes with the territory.” He let himself look his fill, coasting over the mass of dark hair, the blue eyes her glasses couldn’t quite hide, and those lips, rosy and too damn kissable for his frame of mind. He leaned forward, ignoring his plate. She bit her lip, looking uncomfortable with his attention. This, at least, fit with how his brother had described her. Shy. Needing to be taken out and shown a good time. Which left the question of why . “So tell me. What are you hiding from?”

Bri went rigid. “I’m not hiding from anything.”

He’d struck a sore spot, one he couldn’t help poking at again with how irritated he was by his reaction to her. “Sure you are. Look at the way you dress—”

“I am not mousy.”

“—and the way you wear your hair.” He reached across the table and twined his finger through the lock closest to her face, enjoying the way she blushed harder. He would have enjoyed it a lot more if her hair wasn’t just as soft and thick as it looked. After giving it a tug, he released her and sat back. “All signs point to you hiding. From what?”

She set her fork down and took a sip of her wine with shaking fingers. It was nice knowing he wasn’t the only one with frayed nerves. But by the time she set the glass down, her calm mask was back in place. “I have nothing to hide from.”

She was lying, which only made him more curious to know what made a woman like Bri tick. While it was obvious he wasn’t getting answers tonight, he couldn’t resist one last dig. “In that case, you’re really trying too damn hard to fit the picture of what a librarian should be. Because, seriously, you’re wearing cat-eye glasses and frumpy clothes.”

She glanced at him from under her fringe of bangs, those eyes like a kick to the gut he didn’t want to deal with. “How would you know? I doubt you’ve spent much time around books, let alone in a library full of them.”

Well, hell, that stung. “You don’t have a damn clue what you’re talking about.”

“Then why are you so angry?” She pushed her plate away. “I’m not really hungry, and I think we’ve put in enough time for this favor to be considered successful. I’m ready to go home.”

She was done, just like that? “So eager to run home and read to your fish.”

“Mr. Smith is significantly better company than I’m keeping right now.”

It figured that she’d think that. She’d started this date looking down her nose at him, and it appeared she was going to end it the same way. Ryan picked up his beer and drained the last of it. “That’s all well and good, but I’m having another beer.” Being at the same table with this woman was enough to drive a saint to drink, and he sure as fuck wasn’t that good of a man.

“Do whatever makes you happy. I’ll get a cab home.”

Like hell she would. That was just what he needed—her telling Drew he was being an ass, and then having to explain to his brother and Avery why things had gone so horribly wrong. He would rather get her home and forget this shit ever happened. With a sigh, he motioned her back down. “Relax. I’ll pay the tab and drive you home. No need to get your panties in a twist.”

Her knuckles went white where they clutched her purse. “My panties are none of your concern.”

Their bill arrived and he pulled out his wallet. “Honey, if there wasn’t such a large stick up your ass, you’d be begging me to rip off those lily-white granny panties—with my teeth.” She gasped, but he ignored her response and pushed to his feet. “But that might be too much excitement for a prickly little librarian like you.”

…

By the time Ryan pulled up in front of her house, Bri was ready to throw herself from the SUV to get away from her own mind. His words had sparked her imagination in the worst way possible. All she could picture was him kneeling before her, his huge shoulders parting her legs, and pressing his mouth against her there . No one had ever done that to her before, so she’d never felt the loss. Now? Now she clenched her legs together in an effort to tell herself she didn’t need it.