Free Brazing (Forged in Fire #2) by Rachel Higginson, Lila Felix Page A

the end it worked.
    Because not only had they been kind to each other, but they’d forced me respect the hell out of both of them!
    I tuned back into their mundane conversation when Bridger announced, “Thanks for the invite, Tate, but I should get going.”
    “Yeah?” I asked with a hand on my hip and fingers tapping impatiently against the silk of my skirt. “You got things to do?”
    “That I do,” he nodded and took a step back.
    I didn’t believe him, but I wasn’t going to make a public scene about it.
    “Homework?” I pressed.
    “Always.”
    “You’re leaving this for homework?” I asked incredulously.
    He shrugged a helpless shoulder and I noticed for the first time how tortured his eyes looked. Hmm…
    “I’m leaving this place before you make me perform Celine Dion,” he tried to joke. “Careful, Sawyer, she’s been trying to make me sing female power ballads all night. Don’t let her con you into it.”
    Sawyer laughed.
    Butt out, Sawyer! Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something?
    “Fine, leave!” I shouted playfully. “I’ll sing It’s All Coming Back to Me by myself!”
    He had made it almost to the door when he called out. “I’m just sorry I’m going to miss it.”
    “Don’t worry,” I warned him. “I’ll call you tomorrow and tell you all about it!”
    He didn’t say another word. He just turned and left. But not before I caught the look of pure terror on his face after my threat.
    I wanted to toss my head back and let out an evil cackle.
    Oh, Bridger. We were so not done with this.
    Well, metaphysically I meant that.
    Practically-speaking, we were definitely over. He’d already left. And I had been forced to turn back to Sawyer and have a grownup conversation that required me to refrain from making all those classic Mark Twain jokes that sat idling on the tip of my tongue.
    Like I said, Sawyer was perfectly nice.
    Perfectly nice just wasn’t what I was looking for.
    Bridger might be the darkest rain cloud on the darkest day but now that he’d removed his presence from the bar, I felt more down in the dumps than ever. Was that how this worked? Or just how Bridger worked?  Did he somehow superheat his raincloud so it gave off warmth instead of chill and safety instead of paranoia and fear?
    If so, that was what I missed. Not anything but that comfortable heat I felt whenever I was near him and the mostly-uncomfortable tingling he brought out of me.
    “Are you really going to sing Celine Dione?” Sawyer shouted at me over the screeching background vocals.
    I smiled at him and shook my head. “Not for another…” I glanced at the clock and then at my drink, “five drinks. At least.”
    He threw his head back and let out a big laugh. When he met my gaze again, he was smiling a very charming grin at me and seemed to be genuinely amused. “In another five or so drinks, you might be able to convince me to join you.”
    I laughed too just as my stomach took a sharp dip and a cold line of sweat broke out on my forehead. No… No, no, no, no, no ! The nausea hit me so hard that I swayed forward and just barely caught myself on the edge of the table.
    “Whoa, there,” Sawyer, grabbed my arm to steady me. “You alright?”
    Crap. This was not exactly first date material.
    I looked up and tried to smile at him. “I, uh, man, that drink really caught up to me! I’m such a lightweight! I was so kidding about all that before.” I pressed my lips together and swallowed like thirty times in quick succession to keep from puking all over poor Sawyer’s jeans.
    “Oh, no!” And to give him some points, he sounded really bummed out. “Are you sure someone didn’t put something in your drink? I don’t mean this in a bad way, but you look really bad.”
    I let out a bark of bitter laughter. I knew he was right. Going by experience, I bet I was a lovely shade of putrid yellow right about now and the sweat beading on my upper lip probably the most attractive thing he’d