Page 123 of Right Man, Right Time
“Are you really in here alone?” Posey asks as he steps into the VIP section with Holmes and Rivers.
“Yeah,” I answer, though I keep my eyes ahead, watching Ollie.
“Why? Your girl is out on the dance floor. Don’t you want to dance with her?” Posey asks, taking a seat.
“She’s having fun. I’m not going to wreck that.” I glance at Holmes and say, “Surprised to see you here.”
“He’s attempting to get a certain someone out of his head,” Posey says.
“Dude, come on,” Holmes bemoans. “You said you weren’t going to say anything about her.”
“I just mentioned it, nothing more.” Posey lifts a bottle of beer to his lips that he must have grabbed on his way in here.
“I told him to go for it,” Rivers says. “Holmes is a catch. You’re telling me she wouldn’t choose you over some other guy?”
“She won’t,” Holmes says as he sinks into his chair and lifts his beer as well. The server appears at that moment and brings the boys more bottles.
When she stands tall, she says, “There are some girls who want to come join you boys. Would you like me to let them in?”
“In a second,” Posey says.
When the server leaves, I raise my brow at him. “Getting into trouble tonight?”
“Celebrating our first victory,” he replies. “And attempting to find a girl for Holmes. Rivers, you’re on your own, bud.”
“Actually, Ollie’s good friend Ross is interested,” I say just as I look out toward the dance floor and catch a guy grinding into Ollie.
Red-hot anger flashes through my body in seconds, and I find myself standing just as Ross filters in. “Hey,” he says. “Uh, who all is here?”
I don’t even bother with introductions. I blow right by him and head toward the dance floor. He’s outgoing enough to fend for himself.
I have one thing on my mind, and it’s to get that fucker off Ollie immediately.
Not that itreallymatters, but Sarah’s betrayal was private, unseen—thank fuck. But if Ollie is photographed with another guy so soon into our “relationship”, it will be very, very public.
Let’s be real, Silas. This has nothing to do with paparazzi.
Okay, Ollie might not be mine, but she isn’t going to be someone else’s, that’s for damn sure.
Mine.
My fists clutch at my sides, my jaw is so tight I think I might crack a molar, and with every step I take forward, I feel myself growing angrier and angrier until I reach them and tug on the guy’s arm, pulling him away.
“Silas,” Ollie says in shock.
“Dude, what the—hey, you’re Silas Taters.”
“I am, and you’re dancing with my girl. So unless you want to know what it’s like to have your face beaten in by a professional hockey player, then I suggest you leave her the fuck alone.”
The guy holds up his hands and takes a step back. “Dude, I had no idea.”
“Beat it,” I growl.
The man gets the hint, and without another word, he takes off.
“Was that necessary?” Ollie asks, arms folded, looking just as angry as me.
“Don’t fucking test me tonight, Ollie. I’m not in the mood.”
