The Feline Gaze

“Yeah, he’s harmless,” I tell her.

“Need one of the bouncers to walk you out?” She raises an eyebrow. “We don’t need to mess around with guys like this.”

“Nah,” I shake my head. “I’ll be okay. What do I owe you?”

The bartender looks from me to Lester and back again and then she whispers to me.

“On the house tonight, love.”

“Thanks,” I say. Her unexpected generosity warms my heart. Okay, so maybe not everyone in this bar is a terrible person. I reach out to shake her hand, sliding her a twenty when I do, and she rolls her eyes.

“Apparently, you don’t know the meaning of ‘on the house,’” she laughs.

“Consider it a tip.”

“Well played.”

I grab my purse, push past Lester, ignore whatever words are pouring out of his mouth, and head outside. Once I’m out in the chilly night air, I give myself a second to breathe.

Yeah, I think it’s a little safe to say that I’m beyond frustrated with how everything went down. I blame Alastair, honestly, because without the push and the threat of being seated with Lester at his wedding reception, I never would have gone out of my comfort zone and headed into a bar.

Never.

For a minute, I think Lester is going to follow me, but he doesn’t. I look over my shoulder and see him leaning on the counter. He’s already moved on to flirting with the bartender, which is just as well. I don’t need him in my life right now.

I don’t need any of this.

I lean against the building and look around the darkened parking lot. It’s decidedly quiet, which is strange. Usually, there are at least a couple of taxis loitering around, but there’s nothing tonight. Fuck. I’m way too buzzed to drive and I know it. I might take risks in the business world, but I don’t gamble with my life. I certainly don’t gamble because I drank too much due to stress. Lester really got under my skin. So did Greg. What I need is to get home, eat some food, and fall asleep. I don’t need to drive to get there, though. At least I’m sober enough to realize that.

I took a cab here, so I don’t have a car sitting around or anything. Luckily, I’m always prepared for the inevitable, so I’ve got a couple of ride-sharing apps on my phone. I start fumbling for my cell. I’ll call a car and then I’ll go home. Yep. That’s it. That’s my new, perfect, flawless plan. See? Who said drunk girls couldn’t make decisions?

“Rough night?” A deep, sultry voice draws my attention away from my apps, and I look up, surprised to see the handsome shifter from earlier. He’s tall

er up close, and if possible, even more handsome. He’s lean and muscular with these bright, piercing eyes that make me want to yank off my panties and throw them at him.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Where’s your redhead?” I ask, looking around, trying not to let him know just how stupidly turned on I am. Who gets aroused from a look, anyway? Okay, maybe it’s been awhile since I got laid. Apparently, it’s been way too long. If a stranger is having this kind of effect on me, then I have bigger issues than finding a date.

The man chuckles, deep and low, and he smiles at me like I’m the silliest thing he’s ever seen. That shouldn’t make me happy, but somehow, knowing that I made him smile makes me feel ridiculously content in a strange sort of way. He’s not looking at me like I’m being annoying or stupid. He’s looking at me like I’m adorable. This is a feeling I’m not used to, and I want to harness these emotions and just hold onto them forever.

“She had somewhere to be,” he says.

“Another date?” I ask.

“More like a husband,” he shrugs.

“Ouch.”

“Well, to each their own,” he says. “But from a drama perspective, I’m not really interested in pursuing something with someone who has other partners.”

“What about a moral perspective?” I ask, turning back to my phone. I try not to stare at him too hard. After all, this guy is way, way out of my league. I’m not shy about my own level of attractiveness. I know I’m pretty. I’m not embarrassed about my body or my curves or my flaws. Still, I know that this guy is the type of person who could literally bed any girl in Tigress and with options like that, he probably isn’t going to be choosing me.

I start scrolling through my phone to find an app. I’m starting to feel a little more buzzed and I want to get home, tear off my clothes, and climb into bed. Yeah, that’s definitely what I need right now. Forget the food. Forget the sex. Sleep is what I need. Sleep and good dreams and if this guy wants to come home with me...I’ll let him.

Dammit, Cassidy, I groan inwardly. Get it together, girl.

He shrugs. “What other people do and how they choose to live their lives isn’t really any of my concern, now is it?”