Free Flow (The Beat and the Pulse #6) by Amity Cross Page B

I turned and saw Hamish standing on the other side of the bar, his gaze fixed on me like a target. He’d come straight out of the cage and was dripping sweat and blood everywhere. He was bare chested, and his hands were wrapped tight, and I found myself staring at his tattooed pecs. I think I licked my lips, but I wasn’t sure I was seeing things clearly or if he was a mirage. You know, like water in a desert or some other metaphor for the sexually starved.
    I blinked once, and he was still standing there. I blinked again, and this time, I realized he was real.
    “What’s with you and Storm?” he asked, slamming his palms down onto the bar.
    “You’re bleeding,” I said, hedging around his question. Grabbing a serviette from the stack under the bar, I pressed it against his eyebrow. He swatted my hand away but took the little square of paper and pressed it over the cut himself.
    “What’s the score with you two?” he asked again.
    “It’s no big deal,” I said with a shrug.
    “Lori,” he said more firmly. “Tell me.”
    “We went out a couple of times,” I said, which was true. “He went to America to try his luck in the UFC, and I stayed here. It didn’t work.” A thin explanation that glossed over all the major plot points and cut out all the spoilers.
    “I don’t like the way he talks to you,” he snarled. “I don’t like the way he talks about you, either.”
    “What?” I asked, my blood starting to chill.
    “He’s got a fuckin’ nasty mouth on him. I shut it once, and I’ll shut it again if I hear him talk about you like that again.”
    “Like what?”
    Hamish pulled the serviette away from his eyebrow. Glancing at the blood, he hissed and then dabbed the cut again.
    “Hamish, like what? ” I asked more forcibly.
    “He was talkin’ about your…” He gestured to my vagina, and I scowled.
    “My vagina is none of his business.”
    His jaw tensed. I’d pegged him for a teeth grinder, and right now, he was going for broke. His teeth would be bloody stumps if he didn’t take a beat.
    “Did you win?” I asked.
    “Smashed his face into the ground,” he replied, his eyes blazing.
    “Well, go wash up, Hercules,” I retorted. “You’re dripping your man sweat all over my clean bar, and your testosterone is maxing out all over the place.”
    He glanced down. “That thing is clean? You’re delusional.” He opened his mouth but then shut it like he thought better. Then he said, “No woman ever complained about my testosterone levels before.”
    I scrunched up my nose. “You might want to put a cold compress on your head, too.”
    He slammed his free hand down onto the bar and eyeballed me. “There’s more to it.”
    I shrank away slightly. “More to what?”
    “You and him.”
    “Leave it,” I said, glancing at the people around us who were enjoying the show. If they weren’t talking before, they definitely were now. I didn’t want to be the center of anyone’s attention. I just wanted to coast under the radar. It was safe and warm where no one had anything they could use against me.
    “He thinks he’s got a claim on you.” Hamish glared at me as if it were all my fault, and maybe it was—for forcing a guy like him, like Storm, to commit when I couldn’t even put my own life on hold to go to America while he fought for his dream. Shit, now I was blaming myself for the guy’s infidelity.
    “Don’t,” I snapped at Hamish. “Don’t think you know shit about it because you don’t. I don’t need you to fight my battles, Hamish. I didn’t ask you to.”
    “Don’t you want anyone to care for you?” he asked.
    “What’s that meant to mean?”
    “Shove a little harder,” he hissed. “I can take it.”
    Glancing at my hands, I took a deep breath. After nothing for so long, now there was an influx of everything. Hamish. Storm. Swirling emotions I thought I’d locked away for eternity had been set loose.
    The only thing I’d learned tonight was I hadn’t