Phoenix Rising

"I'm Dave. What can I get you?"

Dave gave me a megawatt smile. I batted my eyelashes at him, casting my eyes sideways to see if it was working. My whole purpose was to annoy Clint.

"I'll have a tequila. Blanco. No ice."

"You want lime with that?"

"Lemon please. And a water on the side."

He nodded and poured me a drink. I reached for my wallet but Dave held up his hands.

"No way, Ms. Delancey. This is on the house."

"Thank you, Dave."

I was always gratified when people knew who I was. Especially this far from the Delancey Estate. I wasn't world famous or anything, but I was well known in Texas.

And Nashville of course.

Clint said nothing as I reached for the lemon and squeezed it into my drink. I licked my fingers clean before lifting my drink towards my lips. He turned to me, his hand gently catching my wrist.

We were so close, we were almost embracing. I stared into his eyes, daring him to take what I was offering. He wanted to, that much was plain.

We stayed like that for a moment and then he let go.

"You should not be drinking."

I raised my glass to him.

"But I'm off duty."

I winked, poking his chest.

"And so are you."

He sighed heavily.

"How old are you anyway, Phoenyx?"

I coughed, almost choking on my drink. Did he think I was underage? No wonder the man ran away from me!

I fluttered my eyes at him playfully.

"Don't worry Clint. I'm legal."

He narrowed his eyes at me but I could tell he was intrigued.

"Legal for what?"

I shrugged, sipping my tequila. A lady did not shoot her tequila. She sipped it.

I downed the rest anyway and slammed the glass down. The bartender was back in two shakes as Clint looked at me with a worried look on his face.

"Another?"

"Yes, please."

Clint's eyes were wide with alarm.

"Phoenyx, what are you doing?"

I smiled at him.

"I'm bored. All I do is work, work, work,” I singsonged with a mischievous smile. “I want to have a little fun."

I tilted my head and stared at him.

"Don't you?"

"No. I do not want to have fun. I hate fun. Now you should get on home like a good little girl and–"

"I am not a little girl,” I snapped.

We were staring at each other, both of us breathing hard. It was like we were in an Old West gunfight, waiting for the other one to draw. I wondered for a moment if I was the bad guy or the Sheriff in this scenario.

"Phoenyx–"

He sighed heavily, clearly giving up. I sipped my drink and looked around the bar. I had won. But if he was going to ignore me, I was going to have to talk to someone.

"What do you guys do for fun around here anyway, Dave?"

"Talkin' to a pretty lady is at the top of my list."

He grinned at me, wiping a glass with a dishtowel. I felt Clint tense up beside me.

"You don't say?"

I finished my drink and Dave started to pour me another.

"That won't be necessary, Dave."

Clint stood up and gripped my arm.

"Come on, I need to get home."

I shook him off.

"Well, I don't."

"Listen Phoenyx– I'm too old for you."

"Whatever are you talking about, Clint?"

I grinned at him, making it clear I knew exactly what he was talking about. He ran his hand through his hair, making him look adorably boyish.

I batted my eyelashes at him.

"Who cares about age? Besides, I'm just having a drink and enjoying myself."

He grit his teeth, looking at me like I was driving him crazy. Good. If he was crazy, maybe he'd give in to this fire raging between the two of us.

"I am not leaving you here with all these men."

"What men?"

I looked around innocently. Hmmm… there were quite a few fellas giving me the eye. I might have been nervous if Clint wasn't with me. But he was. So I played dumb, wondering how far he was going to take this.

I gestured to the room at large.

“It’s perfectly safe. There are plenty of women here."

He leaned down, bracing his arm on the back of my chair. He was inches away from me. I couldn't help but stare at his lips. They looked… surprisingly soft.

"They don't look like you."

I was breathless, thinking he was about to kiss me.

"What's wrong with the way I look, Clint?"

His eyes searched my face, dropping to my lips. This was happening. This was really, truly about to happen. My curiosity would finally be assuaged– I would find out what Clint felt like– how he tasted– how–

"Everything is wrong with the way you look."

Oh. My. God.

My stomach lurched in pained embarrassment.

I looked away from him, my mood instantly deflated. I felt like I'd had the wind knocked out of me. He didn't like the way I looked? Had he been looking at me with disgust all along? I felt like a fool.