Sweet Trouble Read Online Free

swats. Fuck. Not a good thought to have just as I’m about to take her into my arms and dance with her.
     

Chapter Four
    Bailey
    Mr. McKinley is like man repellant. After being leered at and ogled by half the men in the bar, I’ve apparently become invisible the minute we start dancing. Not one man looks at me. Not even the man wearing the baseball cap that says Boats and Hoes . When Sydney and I ordered our drinks at the bar, he asked if he could buy them for us and Sydney shut him down so swiftly, I almost felt sorry for him.
    Dancing with Mr. McKinley is wonderful. Easy. I concentrate on his instructions so I don’t think of the way his touch sends a sizzle of arousal across my body. And his scent makes my rational thoughts scatter like frightened rabbits.
    The irrational part of my brain wants more. More than a whiff of his sexy scent. More than a single dance in a dingy bar. More. No. Don’t go there, Bailey. He’s handsome and virile and has a presence I’ve never encountered before, but I’m sure he has something against me. I don’t need to start a relationship underwater.
    “How’d you get in the bar if you’re underage?” he asks.
    His words rumble across his back and I can feel the reverberations beneath the palms of my hands.
    “Are you almost twenty-one?” he adds.
    “Pretty much,” I say, hoping he’ll just drop it, because one, it’s not his business, and two, I don’t want anyone to hear that I’m underage.
    “When will you be twenty-one?”
    “So nice of you to ask. Are you going to send flowers?”
    “Answer my question. Are you almost twenty-one?”
    “I am, in fact, almost twenty-one.”
    Which is so much of a stretch, some might call it a lie. I turned twenty just a couple of weeks ago. I glance up at him, momentarily distracted by his grey eyes. They’re cold. Just like him. And his nose is crooked in the middle. I’m surprised I didn’t see it the other day. My gaze drifts to his beard and I can’t decide if I like it or not. It looks good… well, great, but he has a nice square jaw too, and it’s hidden under the beard, which is a bit of a shame. His lips quirk. He knows I’m checking him out.
    “So when is your birthday?”
    “Middle of September.”
    He shakes his head. “Eleven and a half months from now?”
    “Right.” I manage to keep dancing while I keep my gaze fixed on his.
    “That’s a bit of a lie.” His smile fades. “I don’t care for liars, Bailey.”
    Why does he get to call me by my first name when I’ve only addressed him formally?
    “It’s just a little one, Mr. McKinley .”
    He scoffs. “A little lie. It’s like wanting to go jump in the pool.”
    Well, there’s a comment that makes no sense at all. “A little lie is like a swimming pool…why didn’t I think of that?”
    “Shut up and listen.”
    I must be a glutton for his abuse. What I should do is leave now, go to my car in the rain and go home. Every other couple is pressed together, some looking and smiling at each other, some kissing, and some holding each other tight like they’ll never let go. Me? I just got told to shut up. Right after he called me a liar.
    “As I was saying,” he continues in an irritated tone. “It’s like wanting to jump in the pool, and just before you do you see some little turd floating down in the deep end.”
    “I…see.” I don’t, really. But I want to act like I know just what the hell he’s talking about because by now I’m curious just how unstable this man might be.
    “You don’t care if it’s a little turd or a big one.”
    “Not at all.” I’m guessing here, but I think I was supposed to say that.
    “Because it’s contaminated the whole pool. Right?”
    His logic does make some sense which should worry me. How much rum did Sydney put in my coke? He’s looking at me like he expects me to praise his little truism, one that will forever remain seared into my visual cortex. “You’re kind of a silver-tongued devil aren’t