But not enough for me to forget that I wasn’t ready yet. I had a hard enough time wearing nice dresses that showed off my figure—I wasn’t sure I could comfortably be naked around someone. My body was revved up, but my mind wouldn’t stay in it once clothes hit the floor. Insecurity would come raging in, and I’d make it awkward, which would make things weird. I didn’t want the first time back to be weird.
“You’re right. I do need to go in there. I have to exchange information with Austin,” I murmured, backing off. “My safety is on the line. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? We can have another flying lesson—you’ll get another opportunity to make me scream.” I belatedly realized how that had sounded. It was like the whole “Netflix and chill” debacle all over again. “I mean—”
“I’ll take great pleasure in it,” he said softly, his voice the equivalent of liquid sex.
I shivered from my head to my toes, about-faced, and walked back into the bar. Best to just abandon ship. I’d climb into that boat another day, when I was feeling a little braver. Maybe it would help if he’d take things slower. The man was stuck on full speed ahead, that was for sure.
Only when I was separated from him could I take a deep, desperately needed breath.
“I take back the whole wanting-to-date thing,” I muttered as I threaded through the people standing around, making my way to Niamh. “I’m too old for this.”
“Too old for what?” Niamh asked, two full bottles of cider in front of her and a third in her glass. An empty wine glass and a bottle of wine waited at the top of the bar in front of my usual place.
“Has this turned into a self-service bar, or…” I looked down the way, catching Austin’s eyes as he looked toward me. His gaze dipped, hitting my lips, before rage and then frustration flashed through his expression. The look was there and then gone, and when he looked away, his face was a flat mask of disinterest.
“This place is wedged!” Niamh gestured around us. “They heard about the attack and everyone wants the gossip.”
Fancy that. I hadn’t even noticed anyone entering the bar.
“So yeah, help yourself,” Niamh continued. “Austin is mostly keeping up, but poor Paul is run ragged. He’s useless when it’s busy like this.”
“Austin seems pissed at me. How was I supposed to know Damarion would throw his weight around?”
“You’ve got lipstick all over your face. Got a snog off that hot gargoyle, did ye?” She grinned at me as I grabbed a bar napkin and started wiping. “No, Austin’s not mad at you. He’s struggling with having another alpha in his territory without being able to force submission.”
A wave of uncomfortable fear washed through me. Their fight had been so brutal…the violence of it uncontrolled.
“They would’ve ruined this bar. I wouldn’t have thought Austin would jeopardize his place of business.”
“Allowing Damarion to treat the patrons badly, without recourse, would’ve been jeopardizing this place. It was bound to happen. If the circumstances had been different, they would’ve rumbled right when they met. Instead, they had to do their jobs and make sure you were safe and your people were secure. Ye pulled rank then, and ye did it again now.” She smiled with pride. “The best bit? They are both happy to let ye do so. They are happy to let a Jane with new magic push them around. I regret ever having thought about retiring. This is a good laugh. I am absolutely tickled, so I am. I bet Austin never, in a hundred million years, thought he’d end up in this situation. He says he wants to leave town, so he does, but I bet you he’s also desperate to stay. I got a tenner on it with Edgar.”
My mood darkened for the second time that night, dragging me low. “It doesn’t sound like a good laugh. The last thing I want to do is create upheaval.”
“Ah, you’re grand. ’Tis good for him, you’ll see. Anyway, what were ye mumbling on about just now? What are ye too old for? Sex on the first date? Because I’d beg to differ. You’ve been on the merry-go-round and ridden enough horses by now to do as you please. Don’t even go on a date. They’re a load of bollocks anyway. Just fashion yerself a cowboy, grab a ride, and see how hard he bucks, eh?”
I smiled through my mood. “He’s young. Damarion, I mean.”
“What are you on about? He can’t be more than six or seven years younger. Yer just not used to it because women usually have to date older men if they don’t want an eejit. But that’s for younger women—we’ve enough troubles that we’d do better being less mature, not more. Yer not lookin’ for a long-term thing anyway, right?”