Chasing Justice - By Danielle Stewart Page 0,39

walked Sean. He was wearing dark denim jeans that were a few sizes too big and hung low around his waist, not so low that he could be an extra in a rap video, but low enough to look ridiculous as far as Piper was concerned.

He had on the same green button-up shirt she had seen him in just days before, but now, thankfully, it was buttoned. His hair was combed back and greased in true mafia fashion. She hated that he was good-looking; that she had even the slightest attraction to him infuriated her. The muddled chatter around the bar subsided for a moment as patrons watched Sean approach. When he sidled up next to Piper, conversations quickly resumed, though Piper could now feel a dozen pair of eyes on her.

Sean leaned in toward her and kissed her cheek, lingering for a moment to smell her hair. He pulled out his stool and sat down beside her, looking her over from top to bottom. “Damn girl, you clean up nice.” As a true New Yorker herself, Piper was annoyed by Sean’s attempts to sound like anyone other than the Southern-born kid he was. He tried hard to hide his drawl and speak like one of the Italian tough guys you’d see outside of the bakeries in Brooklyn. He did a terrible job at it, and every word grated on her nerves.

He flagged the bartender down, which wasn’t hard as he seemed eager to serve in a moment’s notice. “Hey Chuck,” he said as the two shook hands across the bar. Piper could read an air of anxiety on the bartender’s face.

“Hey Sean, how’s things going?” Chuck asked, stumbling slightly on his words. “What can I get you two to drink tonight? On the house, of course.” He stood wringing his towel in his hands nervously.

“I’ll have the usual, and she’ll have a seven and ginger,” Sean said, not even looking at the bartender. His eyes were locked on Piper’s body, and he grinned like a child who had found an extra toy in his happy meal. Piper ignored the fact that he hadn’t actually asked her what she’d like to drink. That didn’t really matter, because if she’d had her choice it would have been a root beer. She hated the taste of alcohol and usually struggled to pick a drink for herself.

“Great guess. That’s one of my favorite drinks,” Piper giggled, batting her mascara-laden eyelashes.

“So since I guessed right, does that mean I get a prize? Maybe we should drink these fast and get out of here.” Sean put his cold, clammy hand on her thigh just under the hem line of her dress. It was incredible to her how two hands could feel so different. The night before, Bobby’s hands were warm and comforting, and tonight Sean’s hands felt intrusive and dirty.

“Maybe I gave you the wrong impression over at your house,” Piper explained, trying to slow the night down a bit. “I think you’re a cool guy, and I’m glad we’re out having drinks, but I don’t even really know you. Let’s at least talk a bit before we take this any further.”

Sean rolled his eyes and grabbed for his beer the bartender had just put down in front of him. “I knew you weren’t going to be as easy as I hoped.” He rolled his eyes and took a swig of his beer with his free hand, the other still planted on her leg. “Fine, what do you want to know about me? Bring on the stupid chitchat.”

“I guess my questions changed the minute you walked in here tonight, because originally I did want to ask you some dreary questions about your favorite movies, but not anymore.” Piper leaned in and looked into his eyes, talking barely above a whisper in an effort to seem more seductive. “Now what I really want to know is why the whole bar got quiet when you walked in, why everyone seems a little nervous you’re here, and why you drink for free in one of the only decent bars in this town. I could give a shit what your favorite movie is now; all I want to know is who the hell I’m sitting with here.” She knew what this would do to a man like Sean. She knew making him feel important and bolstering his ego would put him in the mood to talk.

“You’re a very observant girl, aren’t you? I’m guessing you’re not from Edenville because

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