Small-Town Cinderella

Debbie swallowed. “Gary, that’s so...sweet of you to say. But the thing is...” Oh, jeez. She hated doing this. She’d been on the other side of the “it’s not you, it’s me” speech too many times not to feel badly about delivering it. “I’m not really looking for anything serious. I just want to meet some new people, to go out and have a good time.”

His sincere expression quickly morphed into one that was far more interested. “Well, in that case, why don’t we get out of here? I’ve booked a room in a hotel just down the street where we can really have some fun.”

“Whoa, there, Gar! I think you still have the wrong idea about me. But, you know, good luck with all that!”

Grabbing her glass, Debbie downed half the wine in a single gulp as she made her escape.

Speaking of which... Yep, Drew was still in the corner booth. Still watching...which meant as much as tonight was starting to look like a bust, she couldn’t go home yet. She didn’t want to give Drew the satisfaction of thinking that he’d run her off or worse, that he was right and that she should be spending her nights at home alone like a good girl.

She was going to have fun tonight, she thought grimly, even if it killed her.

* * *

She was killing him.

Drew’s hand tightened around the soda he’d been downing all night. He hadn’t come to the bar to drink, though that was the invitation he’d issued to Cassidy Carter. It had been strictly business, and he didn’t drink on the job. Of course, Cass had left over an hour ago, and he still hadn’t switched to anything harder than pure sugar and caffeine. He was a little afraid of what he might do if even so much as a beer went to his head. Hell, the rate the night was going, he should probably switch to diet and caffeine-free.

Every time Debbie laughed, every time she touched another guy—even if it was just to shake hands—every time she leaned closer to hear what one of them said, every damn time the guy’s gaze dropped to the rounded curves on display beneath a sweater that looked like it was made out of cotton candy, Drew had to fight to keep his butt in the booth.

He’d always considered himself a patient man, but he was quickly running out. Still, he kept waiting. Waiting for Debbie to realize none of these losers were good enough for her. He could see it at first glance. What was taking her so damn long?

He’d thought overhearing Debbie at Darcy’s bachelorette party was bad. But that had only been words, and he’d done his best to convince himself it was just talk. That she wasn’t serious about wanting some stranger to sweep her off her feet. Clearly, he was wrong. Not only had Debbie meant every word, she was backing them up with actions.

And it was killing him.

Drew didn’t want to look too closely at the reasons why. Debbie was an old family friend, and he was worried about her. That was reason enough, right? He didn’t want to think that he was jealous or that he wanted to be one of the men standing close enough to her to know if that sweater could possibly feel as soft as it looked. He certainly didn’t want to think about any of those men kissing her the way he had on the balcony last weekend because he shouldn’t have been the one kissing her, either. Tonight only drove that home more than ever. How could he be the one to protect her if he had to worry about protecting her from himself?

But when the waitress brought Debbie yet another glass of wine and when the introduction handshakes turned into nice-to-meet-you hugs, he couldn’t stand by any longer.

He was saving her from herself. When she came to her senses and forgot all about this whole adventure and excitement streak she was on, she’d realize that, too. She’d probably even thank him for it.

A burst of mocking laughter that sounded just like his brothers’ echoed in his head.

Yeah, sure she would.

* * *

Debbie wasn’t sure how long she’d been talking to the brown-haired guy standing in front of her before she realized she no longer held his full attention. His gaze kept flicking toward a point over her shoulder. She might have feared she was too boring to hold his interest, but boredom didn’t put a look of fear in a guy’s eyes.

“I think I should, um...” He was already backing away before he blurted out, “Nice meeting you, Debbie.”

She didn’t have to turn around to around to know Drew was behind her. “What are you doing, Drew?” she asked as she drained the last of her wine and motioned to the waitress for another glass.

“I was going to ask you the same thing.”

“I am here for singles’ night.” She turned to face him, feeling herself wobble slightly in her new shoes. She should have gone with the boots instead of the heels, but the pumps had the cutest bow on the toe.... “And you should be with your date.”

A frown pulled his dark brows together. “I’m not on a date.”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t imagine the brunette you were with earlier.”

“That wasn’t a date. She’s a coworker on a custom house I’m building in the area.”

“You always hold hands with your coworkers? I bet your subcontractors love that.”

“We weren’t holding hands. Cassidy was upset and I was trying to reassure her. The client we’re working for is a real nightmare, and Cass is ready to quit. None of which explains what you’re doing here.”

“I told you. It’s singles’ night, and I’m single,” she said, crossing her arms and meeting his scowl with a smirk.

He mimicked her actions, minus the smirk, folding his muscular arms over his broad chest, as he replied, “Well, so am I.”

“You’re not signed up for this event,” she protested.

Glancing over at a nearby high-top table, he spotted the clipboard and a few leftover name tags. Within seconds, he’d scrawled his name across the sign-in sheet and slapped a tag to his broad chest. His name in bold, block letters with the word contractor written beneath. “It’s not supposed to be a business card, Drew,” she said as she reached out and poked him right in the name tag.

He caught her hand and held it for a moment as his gaze dropped to her chest. Or at least to the name badge on her sweater. “Obviously.”

Debbie blinked, for a second having forgotten what she’d written on her own tag. “Oh, yeah. That.”

Hungry for the taste of adventure....

It had sounded like something fun to write down at the time, so why did she suddenly feel embarrassed, like a teenager caught by her mother making out with a boy on the front porch? She didn’t know. She couldn’t even be sure how a moment like that would have felt. She’d never dated as a teenager. She’d never had the opportunity to do so many things.

And that was why she was willing to take a chance on this singles’ group. Okay, so tonight had been a bit of a disappointment. There were other events planned. This night was only the beginning. She smiled her thanks and handed the waitress some cash in exchange for another glass of wine.

Lifting her chin, she met Drew’s gaze head on. “You’re not my big brother, Drew. I don’t need you to rescue me.”

A flash of guilt flickered across his expression, and Debbie realized she’d nailed it. He really did think of her like a little sister, someone to look out for, someone to protect. She took a swallow of wine to wash away the ache in her throat. So much for thinking he might have been jealous. So much for the foolish hope that he’d approached her because he wanted to be the guy she was talking to instead of the half a dozen or so men whose names she’d already forgotten.

Catching her by the wrist, he took the wineglass from her hand and set it aside. “I think you’ve had enough.”

“You’ve got that right,” she muttered. She’d certainly had enough of him!

Pushing past him, she headed for the exit. The cool, quiet night air brushed her heated cheeks, a welcome relief from the noisy, crowded restaurant. Her heels crunched unevenly across the asphalt, but she didn’t get far before he caught up with her again.

“You shouldn’t be driving.”

“I didn’t have that much to drink.”

“You had four glasses of wine.”

“You were counting?” Debbie snorted, only to realize maybe that was a good thing since she seemed to have stopped keeping track after two. No wonder the asphalt was rocking beneath her feet, and the stars were shooting like a pretty kaleidoscope overhead....

“Let me take you home.”

Oh, why did Drew’s murmured words have to sound so much better than any of the invitations she’d heard from potential dates that evening? Not that he meant anything by it. Just like he hadn’t meant anything by the kiss they’d shared. “You can’t fool me.”

He was playing the role of the white knight—offering rides home and apologizing for kisses when he should have been kissing her again.