“No, you’re not.” He leaned over the bar again. “Because you’re here for a reason. You’re up to something.” He trailed a finger along the inside of my wrist and I couldn’t mask my shiver this time. His eyes brightened knowingly and his grin turned smug, arrogant.
I narrowed my eyes and snatched my hand away from his reach. “I just happen to be sensitive there. Don’t get cocky.”
Craig pinched his lips together to stop himself from laughing, but the effort was railroaded by the laughter in his eyes.
I felt an answering tug of amusement at my own lips and I looked away, hoping the absence of his face would stifle it.
“So who are you looking for?”
My gaze snapped back to him at the question but thankfully I didn’t have to answer because a group of girls wandered into the club, laughing and making a lot of noise. They headed straight for the bar.
Craig winked at me and strode away to help Jo serve them.
Even knowing I shouldn’t, I watched him as he chatted and flirted with the girls. Part of me admired the fact that he didn’t suddenly stop flirting with them in order to make some headway with me, but another, much larger, part was disappointed.
The truth was I’d craved affection my whole life, and since much of my childhood was spent receiving so little, I’d become especially greedy in my adulthood. Since my first boyfriend when I was sixteen, I’d longed to be the only female (who wasn’t related to him) to matter to anyone I dated. I wanted to be a man’s whole world. Like . . . he’d die for me kind of love and vice versa.
When I was fourteen, lonely and starving for affection, I’d fallen in love with romance novels, and ever since then I’d hoped for an epic love story of my own.
I wanted to be the only woman he saw.
Unfortunately, that uncompromising need for full-on love had ruined my relationships. My boyfriends never seemed to live up to my expectations. They never bought me presents just because they saw something that reminded them of me. They looked lustfully at other women when they didn’t think I was looking. It didn’t bother them when another man flirted with me right in front of them.
And they should definitely not fuck other women when they were in a relationship with me. My second-to-last boyfriend, Gary, didn’t seem to understand that one at all!
Maybe what I wanted didn’t exist.
Maybe I was wrong to be so fixated on finding the perfect man for me.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
But that didn’t mean I didn’t think it wasn’t reasonable to believe that a man who seemed overtly interested in me should refrain from flirting with other women while he was flirting with me!
I scowled at Craig as he said, “That’ll be ten eighty, gorgeous,” to the perky brunette eyeing him like he was bloody David Gandy.
I was right. He called every woman “gorgeous” and “beautiful.”
I’d lied to him before when I said I hadn’t felt anything when he called me beautiful. I had felt the heat of it. But that heat suddenly burnt out and turned to ash. I didn’t like the taste of it and I sipped at my wine and looked away, hating the disappointment I felt.
I stared at the door, willing Angus to appear. If he would just show up I could put my plan in action, ruin his life like he’d ruined Darcy’s, and forget all about the handsome bartender who I’d subconsciously let play me like he apparently played all women. I’d been hurt before by men, but since I’d never been in love, it was a hurt that had only lasted a little while. It wasn’t anywhere close to the hurt that Darcy was feeling. My sweet, beautiful, kind sister, who had already seen enough pain in this life. Angus had cut her open. I didn’t want to be cut open like that, which meant the next time I chose a man I’d pick one who treated me like I was the only woman in the room.
“You never answered my question. Who are you waiting for?”
My head jerked around at his question and my thoughts must have still been obvious in my eyes because Craig’s expression softened to concern. He reached for my hand and murmured, “Darlin’?”
I pulled my hand away before he could touch me and hid the sadness I’d allowed him to see. “I’m not waiting for anyone.”
“Liar.” He gave me a mock-disappointed look and heaved a weary sigh. “I guess I’ll just have to stand here and badger you all night, then.”
“Please don’t.”
As if he sensed the sincerity in my plea, he pulled back a little, giving me space, at least physically. However, he didn’t walk away. “Why are you here, Rain?” His question was serious, all flirtatiousness having ebbed away in reaction to my demeanor.
I smirked. “If that’s a philosophical question then I can honestly say I have no bloody clue why any of us are here. If it’s a literal one . . . I’d tell you to mind your own business.” I added a little smile to lessen the blow of my words.
He gave me a small smile back. “Then I’ll ask you an easier question. How old are you?”
I sighed, realizing he really wasn’t going anywhere. “I’m twenty-four. How old are you?”
“Twenty-five. Where were you born?”
I frowned at the quick-fire question. “Inverness. Where were you born?”
“Edinburgh born and raised. What do you do for a living?”
I cocked my head to the side and studied him. “Are you planning on writing my biography?”
He gave me this mysterious little smile but said nothing else.