Rory: Hope City, Book 7 by Maryann Jordan (uplifting books for women txt) 📕

on her thoughts, she hadn’t even noticed the man sitting next to her, eyeing her lecherously. Jerking her arm back, she said, “No, thank you.”

He leaned closer, his gaze locked in on her chest. “Come on, babe. A gorgeous girl like you shouldn’t be sitting alone.”

“I’m waiting on someone,” she said. “But you should know that if a woman wants to sit alone, that’s her prerogative.”

The man’s brow lowered. “I don’t even know what the hell that word means.” He grinned again, his gaze barely flicking up to her face before dropping back to her chest. “But I’m willing to let you teach me whatever you want.”

Twisting to the man, ready to deliver a scathing rebuke, her vision was suddenly blocked by a body inserting between her barstool and the other man’s. Blinking, she looked up in surprise at the sight of Rory. She could only see his face in profile as he glared toward the man, but his jaw was set, and no smile graced his lips.

“Back off, asshole. The lady said she wants to sit alone.”

The other man reared back as his sloppy-drunk face settled into a pout. “She’s just a cocktease bitch anyway,” he grumbled.

Rory still had not looked at her, instead offering a chin lift toward Torin to order another beer. Breathing easier, she placed her hand near his arm and smiled. “Thank you! I knew you were gallant,” she said, attempting a lighthearted tone.

“Maybe a bar isn’t the best place to be if you don’t want that kind of attention.”

She blinked, startled at his harsh tone, and it took a few seconds for his words to sink in. “Rory, just because a woman is in a bar doesn’t mean she wants to be hit on like that.” Cocking her head to the side, she peered up at him, trying to discern what he was thinking. “What’s wrong?”

He finally turned and dropped his gaze to her face. She could swear his expression was one of discomfiture, but that only made her more curious as to what he was thinking.

He shook his head, then said, “You’re right. I shouldn’t have said that. Let’s face it, Sandy… you’re a beautiful woman with a bright smile and a quick wit that works for flirting. You’ve got to realize that for some men, that’s a come on.”

Her hand jerked back as though burned, humiliation running through her. “I’m sorry you think that…” She wasn’t sure what else to say, but by then Torin had handed Rory his beer, and he picked it up, tossing some bills onto the bar. He turned as though to leave, and she battled the desperation to want to ask him to stay. “Rory!”

He stopped and hesitated before dropping his gaze back to her. She stared for a few seconds, the blue of his eyes still mesmerizing before he looked away. “I don’t understand, Rory. Last week, we talked, danced, and I don’t know about you, but I haven’t forgotten the kiss—”

“Yeah, about that. I think it’s probably best that we forget it happened.”

Her heart pounded and her stomach churned once more as his gaze had not returned to her face. “What’s changed?”

He sighed long and heavy, then stepped closer, finally looking at her. “Look, Sandy, I’ve got a lot going on in my life right now that I need to focus on. A woman with a lot of expectations doesn’t fit into that.”

She reared back, the churning in her stomach now feeling as though she’d been punched. “A woman with a lot of expectations? I don’t understand. Where is that coming from?”

His gaze shot to the side, then came back to her, landing on her wrist where her diamond bracelet twinkled. With that one look, he’d given away more than he probably meant to. She looked past his shoulder to the men standing in a group near the pool tables. Understanding flooded her, and she lowered her voice to a bare whisper. “Oh, I see. You’ve met me a couple of times and have now formed an opinion about who I am as a person without getting to know me more. Or you took in other people’s opinions and made them your own.”

“No, it’s just that… well… like I said, I’ve got a lot going on. Anything more than a little fun is just not in the cards for me right now.”

She watched a blush move over his face. Stiffening her spine, she sat up straight, refusing to look away. “A lady always makes eye contact when she has a point to make.”

“Well, I thank you, Rory, for showing me your true colors rather than letting me become more involved with someone I thought was worth it.” She felt the sting of tears behind her eyes, hating the fact that she wanted to cry. Sliding unassisted from her stool, she darted through the crowd, using her diminutive size to slip past people. She made it to the door, barely aware of her name being called.

Once outside, she walk-ran to her SUV on her stiletto heels, glad to arrive without breaking her ankle. She quickly drove down the road, forcing her eyes to stare straight ahead, refusing to look into the rearview mirror. Blinking back tears, she gripped the steering wheel tighter. Swallowing deeply, she tried to steady her breathing. Driving in complete silence, she forced her mind to go blank, a trick she’d taught herself many years before when her heart ached.

Once inside the front door of her house, she slumped her back against the wood, now letting the waves of emotions crash over her. Embarrassment. Mortification. Anger. Frustration.

Her attention was diverted as her cat walked into the room, and she stooped to run her fingers through his thick fur. She walked on wooden legs into her kitchen, then poured food into his dish. She stood for a moment, her house silent except for the sound of her cat crunching his food. With no appetite, she flipped off the light and headed upstairs. Stripping as