Pretend It's Love Read Free Page A

on the other hand… “Uhh…thanks?”
    “Was that a question?” He released her slowly, his dark eyes tracking her movement.
    She tried to put pressure on her foot but fiery pain shot up her leg, making her gasp. “No.”
    “You’re not okay.” He put the drinks tray down on the table. The bar’s name, First, was artfully carved into the wood in funky, tattoo-style font.
    For some reason the name sounded familiar.
    “Neither are your glasses,” she said miserably looking down to the glittering shards decorating the footpath. “Did I get them all?”
    “Every single one.” A smile twitched at the corner of his lips. “But glasses can be replaced. That ankle looks like it needs some TLC, though.”
    “I’m fine.” She tried to stand normally while keeping all her weight on her good foot.
    Stupid weak ankles and stupid, stupid heels. This day could not get any worse.
    His face told her he wasn’t buying it. “Let me help you inside. You can take a seat, and we’ll call you a cab.”
    Did she have to embarrass herself in front of the hottest guy on earth? No scratch that, guys like him weren’t best described as hot. Striking, perhaps…or exciting. Darkly sensual.
    She swallowed. What happened to being a confident, intelligent, and powerful woman? That was the Libby Gal Cocktails brand. Her signature. But today every ounce of confidence she owned had slinked off with its tail between its legs, and now she was playing damsel in distress. Ugh.
    “You look like you could use a drink anyway.” He smiled, holding out a hand to her. “I make a mean Negroni.”
    “Can you make it in a vat?”
    “That bad, huh?”
    She hesitated for a second and then took his hand, a shiver running through her at the slide of his palm against hers. The grip was sure, strong…yet gentle. He abandoned the drinks tray and came closer to her, tugging her arm around his shoulders and supporting her weight against him. They moved slowly, and each step made their bodies press together.
    Libby clamped her lips together to keep from crying out as the pain in her ankle worsened.
    The bar looked warm and inviting. Golden light spilled through the open door, and the calming sounds of chatter and jazz music beckoned.
    “How you holding up?” His easy smile and dark eyes made her heart thump as they stepped into the restaurant.
    “Apart from the mortification,” she muttered, “I’ll be fine once I get that drink.”
    There were a few steps down from the doorway to the main area, and she could already feel her ankle protesting.
    “Are you going to be able to get down the steps?” he asked.
    She hesitated and a second later he’d scooped her up into his arms and was carrying her down the steps and across to the bar.
    “You can put me down now,” she protested, covering her face with the hand that wasn’t clinging desperately to him.
    She hated heights, and he had to be at least six one…which would mean a painful landing if he dropped her. But he walked with her in his arms as though he was only carrying a bag of sugar. Confident, in control.
    He probably thought she was a hot mess.
    “Do you normally rescue clumsy girls in the street?” she asked as he stopped at the bar and set her down gently on a barstool.
    “I’m a bartender; clumsy girls are my specialty.” He flashed her a smile as he reached over the bar and grabbed a pile of folded dishtowels. Placing them on the stool opposite her, he dragged it closer so she could rest her foot there. “You need to keep this elevated. I’ll grab you something cold to put on it.”
    “You’re a regular first aid specialist,” she quipped as he came back with a bag of frozen peas.
    “Our barista has a habit of burning himself, so we always keep these handy.” He placed the peas on her ankle and removed her shoe.
    Each brush of his fingers against her bare skin made her stomach flutter. Talk about a real Cinderella moment.
    “There,” he said, standing back and admiring