I freeze where I stand, hesitating and holding my breath. She’s all smiles as she waits for me, her hip cocked out to one side as she runs the other hand through her hair. She’s got on these loose jeans full of holes, then this ridiculously tight white shirt that only covers her boobs and the top of her stomach. What do girls call those? Crop tops? Might as well be a Cock top for the thoughts it’s inspiring in my body.

Dammit.

There’s nothing but sweetness behind her eyes. True to her word, she hasn’t made a single inappropriate comment or innuendo all night. She’s acting like she genuinely wants to be friends. And yet, something tells me she could transform that sweetness into sex appeal in the blink of an eye if I gave her the go ahead. Which I won’t. Because I can’t. I really fucking can’t.

I blow out a long breath as I work up the courage to step out from behind the bar. When I do, she takes a step forward, coming within arm’s reach. The scent of strawberries fills the air around me again, and my dick instantly twitches in remembrance.

Dammit. What was I thinking sending the other guys home?

It’s too late to dismiss her now. All I can do is grab my jacket and put her in her car.

“I have to lock both doors. Let me get the back taken care of, then I’ll meet you out front. Don’t walk out without me,” I add. I’m not about to chase after her across the green again.

“Oh, Dempsey,” she sing-songs as she turns on her heel and heads toward the front of the bar. “What do you really think’s going to happen to me on the streets of Hampton after dark?”

“Just wait for me,” I huff, too annoyed by my reaction to deal with her sass.

I stalk through the narrow hallway that leads past the bathrooms and the liquor cage to the back. I make quick work of locking and bolting the back door, then hit the lights as I backtrack.

I can see her silhouette against the front door as I approach. I watch, transfixed, as she runs her hand through her thick blond curls. I’m standing all the way across the goddamn bar, and yet I swear I can smell her scent when she shakes out her hair.

I hit the main panel, dousing the bar in shadow. The blue-teal backlights that line the liquor shelves behind the bar are the only source of light that remains.

I can’t see her anymore. But I can feel her.

Her sass. Her sweetness. That inexplicable lightness I feel when she’s near.