Page 10 of Meant for You

But the last time I’d spent real facetime with her, before everything went to shit, she’d been wearing a floral button-down shirt, a matching cardigan that her aunt had picked out, and a shin-length skirt. Occasionally she was allowed to wear khaki pants or jeans for riding.

I mean, I’d always known she was beautiful on the outside as well as inside. Of course I had. I wasn’t fucking blind. I’d just programed my brain to ignore that fact. That didn’t seem to be working anymore, though.

And then my mind went blank because she was standing beside me, head tilted back, looking up at me. Not in my eyes, though—my ear.

“Hey,” she said.

I swallowed several times, ignoring Bull’s low chuckle—the prick—and forced my body to relax. “Hey.” I sounded like I’d been smoking ten packs a day for the last forty years. I cleared my throat. “Wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“Bull crap,” she said, lips tipped up on one side.

I grinned.

She rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”

“Didn’t say anything. Would your aunt wash your mouth out with soap for that kind of language?”

“Definitely. Good girls don’t curse,” she said, a soft smile on her lips.

The way she was looking, no one here would mistake her for a good girl. She was, though, through and through.

“Hey, Bull,” she said.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Bull said and smiled. “You want a drink?”

She turned toward the bar, eyeing her options, and while she wasn’t looking I aimed a hard stare at the other side of the room. At the fucker who hadn’t taken his eyes off Eves since she’d walked in. If he looked at my girl one more fucking time, I’d remove his balls with a rusty knife and force-feed them to him.

He quickly looked down at his beer.

“What do you suggest?” Everly was asking Bull. “I’ve only had wine with Cassy at dinner or when Quinn comes over and we watch a movie. But I’m not sure wine’s my drink.”

“Beer?” Bull said.

“Um…” She turned to me. “Let me try yours first.”

She took my bottle from me, and I watched as she lifted it to her lips, dark pink and glossy from whatever she had on them, and took a sip. A shiver moved through me, pins and needles dancing up my back and over my scalp.

Fucking. Hell.

My gaze shot back to the fucker sitting behind her, and I narrowed my eyes at him when I caught him looking at her again. He quickly ducked his head, pretending to look at his phone.

Everly was smiling. “Yeah, okay, I’ll have a beer, thanks.”

I grabbed her drink and mine and moved in behind her, blocking her from any dickhead that might look at her ass, and pointed to a table at the back of the bar where we could have some privacy.

I had some serious explaining to do, and I preferred to do it without an audience. She was being polite in front of Bull—Everly was always polite—but I was under no illusion that she’d suddenly forgotten or forgiven me.

I’d hurt her, and somehow I had to make it right or at least try.

I put our drinks down and held out her seat. She sat and I took the one across from her.

I leaned back and stared over at her, my gut tightening, knotted. Fuck, I’d missed her. Everything about her.

“You’ve changed,” I said before I could bite my damn tongue.

She toyed with the label on her beer. “How so?”

Don’t say it. “The way you dress.” Nope, do not say it. “You’re…you’ve, ah…filled out.”