I give her a thumbs-up and then head in the direction of the ladies’ toilets.
I make my way through the throng of people and head down the corridor to the restroom. The sign at the end of the hallway points an arrow to the left for men and right for women and disabled.
It’s kind of eerie here. The lighting is shitty, and the bass is thumping off the walls, making it feel like a scene out of a Z-list horror movie.
Reaching the end of the hall, I turn right, and my steps falter as my heart picks up pace.
Kas.
He’s standing near the disabled restroom, his shoulder leaning up against the wall.
He’s wearing blue jeans and a white shirt. His shirtsleeves are rolled up, showing his gorgeous forearms—I might have a thing with his arms—and his hair is loose and tucked behind his ears.
He looks amazing.
But, whatever, I don’t care.
What I do care about is what he’s doing here.
“What are you doing here?” I echo my thoughts.
He pushes off the wall, so he’s standing upright. “Hello to you, too.”
I give him a look. “Hello. Now, what are you doing here?”
He tilts his head to the side. “I needed to use the restroom.”
“I meant, the club. But, whatever, the men’s room is back that way.” I thumb in the direction of it.
A smile tips the corners of his lips up. He folds his arms around his chest. The fabric of his shirt tightens around his biceps, and the veins in his forearms are visible…and looking very lickable.
But I don’t care.
Yeah, sure, you don’t, Daisy.
“Where’s your date?” he asks.
I have a sudden flash of guilt, my heart jumping, but suspicion quickly takes over.
I narrow my gaze on him. “How did you know I had a date tonight?”
He shrugs those amazing shoulders of his. “I’m the boss. I hear things.”
“Well then, you should know that my date was canceled because your horses got loose, and my date had to go round them all up.”
“Yeah. Shame that.”
Mother…effer.
“You sound real cut up about it.”
The corners of his lips lift, as does his shoulder.
My eyes narrow further. “It was you, wasn’t it? You let the horses out.” It’s not a question. I know he did. I can see it in his eyes.
Bastard.
He gives me an affronted look, but that bastard smile is still on his lips. “And why in the world would I have done that?”
“Who knows?” I throw my hands up. “To ruin my night? To piss me off? Who knows why you do the stuff you do? Probably because you get off on making my life miserable.”
Or he was jealous.
Over me?
Not likely.
I let that thought flitter away into the darkness.
He stares at me for a long moment before saying in a low, throaty voice, “Trust me, Daisy, when I say that what gets me off definitely isn’t making you miserable.”
Oh…wow.
But I don’t let his words affect me. I keep my expression fixed and my anger flowing. “No? So, you just like to make me miserable for fun then.”
Something changes in his expression, and his eyes drift away from me. “Do I really make you miserable?” His voice is uncharacteristically quiet.
I tighten my arms around myself. “Maybe not miserable…but I wouldn’t exactly say that you brighten my day either.”
Well, apart from when you were kissing me. But then you went and ruined that.
He shifts on his feet. “I don’t mean to be an arsehole to you.” His eyes come back to mine, and there’s something earnest about his expression.
“So then, don’t be,” I say softly.
He sighs, his eyes lifting to the ceiling. “It’s not that easy.”
“It’s as easy or as hard as you make it.”
His eyes flash back down to mine. “You make it hard.”
Fire ignites in my belly. “You know what? Fuck you, Kastor Matis!” The words are out before I can stop them.
“Did you just say that you wanted to fuck me?”
My eyes slice to his. His face is serious, but there’s a twinkle in his eyes.
The bastard is making fun of me.
“No.” I grit my teeth. “You know exactly what I meant.” I drop my arms, putting my hands on my hips. I let out a sound of exasperation. “God, can you just stop being such a twat?”
There’s a moment of silence.
Then, in a deadly serious voice, he asks, “Did you just call me a…twat?”
My heart bangs hard against my rib cage. Then, I steel my spine. Defiantly tipping my chin up, I say, “Yes, I did. Because you are acting like a twat.”
He stares at me for the longest time. His face is perfectly blank.
Then, I see his lips twitch, and he bursts into laughter.
Full-on belly laughter.
I’ve heard Kas laugh before but nothing like this. It’s a beautiful, infectious sound. Before I know it, I’m laughing, too, and it feels good.
“I can’t believe you called me a twat,” he says between laughs.
“Well, you deserved it.” I chuckle.
He wipes his eyes. “Yeah, you’re right; I did.”
Our laughter has ceased, and now, we’re just staring at each other. Eyes caught on eyes.
Something changes in the air between us. It’s like the laughter cleared the anger away, and all that’s left behind is pure chemistry and heat. And it seems to be strengthening in its intensity with each passing second, drawing me to him.
My pulse starts to beat in my ears. My skin is tingling. My stomach is coiling and tightening.