His Lover to Protect - Katee Robert Page 0,4

attention to the fact she could actually tell his eye color now. It aggravated her for absolutely no reason that they weren’t anything as mundane as blue or brown or even her own hazel. No, this ass had a green so light, it could almost be termed sea-green. Luke’s brows dropped, which didn’t do a single thing to help his angry expression. “What the hell is ‘bitch face’?”

“You should know. It seems to be your permanent expression.” And what did he have to be so angry about? They were in a beautiful city, rich with history and lore and a thousand other things. She’d been here only two days and she already felt a little lighter on her feet—something she would have thought impossible even a month ago.

Except she had just kicked the hell out of his knee. If it was as she suspected, and he had an old injury there, that would certainly explain some of the nasty attitude he was throwing her way.

That, and the fact that he’d shown up to save her, and she hadn’t needed saving in the first place. Something like that would piss off her ex something fierce. She glanced down at the bar. Damn it, I came here to move into the future, not dredge up the past. “Have you ever tried being nice to people?

“We can’t all be dancing through the tulips and breaking into song with whatever animal happens to be closest.”

Alexis blinked. “Did you just compare me to a Disney princess?”

His grin shouldn’t have sent a spark through her, but she rationalized that it was anger making her perk up—not anything so stupid as desire. Luke propped his elbow on the bar and leaned against it. “If the glass slipper fits.”

He looked so incredibly smug, she wanted to grab the nearest drink and throw it in his face. He really thought he had her number. She wasn’t sure why she was surprised. Sometimes it seemed like everyone she came into contact with, from her judgmental grandparents all the way down to the waitress at her favorite diner back home, thought they knew all there was to know about her. Why would this man be any different? “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

“I know enough.” Luke’s gaze raked over her, seeming to take her in and dismiss her in one smooth move. She hated him for it. People had been doing the same thing for most of her life—looking at her for what she could bring to the table, or what she could do for them. All found her disappointing. They never cared enough to look beyond the surface.

“What are you running from, princess?”

Everything.

But she didn’t have to come halfway across the world to cry her heart out to some man who no doubt couldn’t care less. She wasn’t looking to be saved, or for outside fulfillment. She wanted to get right inside her own head.

He wouldn’t understand that, though, and it was definitely too deep for bar talk. “I’m here to be a tourist. Same as anyone else.”

He snorted. “Whatever you have to tell yourself.”

Good God, the man was pricklier than a cactus. She was already tired of being on the pointed end of his questions—especially when every answer she gave was met with a response like that. “What about you? You don’t strike me as the type to enjoy historical monuments.”

“Now who’s throwing stones?” The bartender finally got up the courage to approach, and Luke ordered two beers without even asking her. Before she could correct him, the man was gone. High-handed much?

Luke turned his attention back on her. “Maybe I went up to kiss the Blarney Stone.”

Her gaze dropped to his mouth. She could almost imagine those wickedly curved lips pressing against the cool stone…and other things. His mouth twitched up, and she jumped. Crap, had she really just been checking him out? And worse, he’d caught her. Alexis tried to push down her ridiculous reaction. “If you did, the gift of gab didn’t take.”

“So quick to kick me while I’m down.” His tone dropped a full octave and took on a downright sinful edge. The anger didn’t go away, exactly, but it focused in on her like a laser. “It makes a man think unforgivable thoughts.”

She couldn’t get over how… Alexis had a hard time putting it into words. How male he was. He took up that stool like he owned it, as if he’d never been unsure of his place in the world. And