She tried not to wince but knew she was unsuccessful.
“I’m sorry but I’m fine. I don’t need you to buy me a drink,” she replied firmly.
Kind, polite, controlled and not unnecessarily ill-mannered, she was quite pleased with herself.
The bartender put her glass on the bar with a smile.
At its arrival, the drunk slammed the palm of his hand on the bar with such force that it made a loud smacking sound and she jumped. Several of the patrons close to her (and some not-so-close) turned around to look.
“I’m buyin’ that drink!” the drunk slurred loudly and lurched toward her, leaning into her face, his fetid breath hitting her like a slap.
Sibyl immediately became alarmed, her body tensed and she took a hurried step back to flee and slammed into a solid, hard wall.
“She’s with me.” A voice came from behind her. It was vaguely familiar, low, deep and absolutely lethal.
She glanced over her shoulder to see who her rescuer was and stared in disbelief (and not a small amount of shock) at Colin Morgan.
The drunk also turned to look and saw the tall, broad-shouldered man with the frightening look on his face standing so close behind the pretty girl that their bodies were touching.
“All right, mate, no need to get uptight.” The drunk put his hands up appeasingly and stumbled back to his stool. “Pretty girls shouldn’t buy their own drinks, thas all I’m sayin’,” he garbled.
“I agree,” Colin murmured distractedly as he watched five pints placed around Sibyl’s drink.
“That’ll be seventeen fifty,” the bartender said.
Sibyl fumbled in her purse for money, still recovering from the shock of seeing Colin Morgan.
She could not believe that her dream madman was standing so close to her she could feel his body against her back. She could also not believe he’d witnessed her being semi-accosted by a drunk man and felt the need to come to her rescue. She never expected, never dreamed she’d run into him in a club in Bristol. In fact, she had hoped never to see him again for the rest of her natural life and even throughout her unnatural one (if such a thing existed).
She made the immediate decision to spend the rest of her days with old people, Jemma’s family or in her Summer House Girlie Stuff Laboratory and never go out socialising again.
Ever.
Then Colin leaned in and Sibyl felt his hard chest pressing into her shoulder blade and watched as he passed a twenty pound note to the bartender.
At this gesture, she tried to remain cool and collected, though, she had to admit, it was difficult.
“Mr. Morgan, please don’t pay for the drinks. They’re –”
“For your date’s friends, I know,” he interrupted her then continued. “Your date, I might add, saw this gentleman…” Sibyl was not looking at him, couldn’t make herself look at him. She wasn’t even certain she wished to believe he was actually there. She noticed from the corners of her eyes that he jerked his head angrily in the direction of the drunk man. “Begin to approach you and did nothing about it.”
She didn’t respond. There was nothing to say.
Steve, unfortunately, was a jerk.
The drunk man said something though, straight into his nearly finished pint, “Criminal. Leave a pretty girl in the clutches of a degenerate like me.” Then he giggled to himself.
Sibyl felt hysterical laughter bubbling up her own throat but she chased it down with a gulp and turned her mind to escape.
Before she could Colin Morgan remarked, “You made light work of that.”
At this unusual comment, she finally lifted her eyes to the hard planes of his face, having to twist around and glance over her shoulder and she saw he was looking over his own at Steve. He obviously recognised the paramedic who’d come to his house.
Again, she didn’t respond. He was still standing so close to her that his chest was resting lightly against her back.
“Mr. Morgan, if you wouldn’t mind moving away,” she whispered.
He apparently did mind because he didn’t move.
“Jason,” his voice rang with authority and the bartender, who was listening to the orders of some patrons, turned his head immediately.
“Yeah, Mr. Morgan?”
“Get Shannon to take those pints to the gentlemen over there,” Colin ordered, motioning to Steve and his group with his head. “And get her to get the women with them a drink for Christ’s sake.”
“Yes, Mr. Morgan,” and Jason jogged off obediently to find the unknown Shannon.
Sibyl stared at Colin in dismay.
“Do you,” Sibyl hesitated, “own this club?”
His eyes finally dropped to her and for some reason her breath caught when she felt the full force of them on her face.
“A third of it, yes,” he answered.
Sibyl looked around the place for the first time.
It was jam packed. There were three bars she could see, two on the lower floor, one on a balcony that wrapped around the club and all of them were surrounded by people buying drinks.
It was clearly a hip hotspot for young, trendy people. Not the place she would expect Colin Morgan to spend his time, unless he had a penchant for underfed, under-clothed and nearly underage girls.
Her face must have told him what she was thinking for he said, “I was here for a meeting. It ran long. I was leaving when I saw you leave your medic, go to the bar and choose the unfortunate position of standing by Paul.”
The drunk man lifted his glass in salute.
“You know him?” Sibyl was astonished.
“Here every night,” Paul offered.
“Do you get drunk every night?” Sibyl asked, her voice edged in concern.
“Every night,” Paul confirmed happily and nodded his head sloppily.
Not thinking, Sibyl grabbed her own drink and, in the tight space allowed by Colin and the bar, she whirled around then pushed him back, her hand on his chest.
One step, two then she got up on tiptoe, leaned toward his ear and whispered fiercely, “That man is an alcoholic!”
“I can hear you,” Paul sing-songed and Sibyl closed her eyes in distress.
When she opened them, Colin Morgan was grinning at her.
Grinning at her.
And if she thought his voice sounded lethal several minutes before, it was nothing compared to the entirely different killer wattage of his grin.
She mentally shrugged off her highly pleasant reaction to his grin, put her hand back to his chest and pushed him back again, this time she pushed him around the side of the bar. She was so determined, she didn’t process the fact that he let her do this.
“You have to do something!” she demanded when they’d stopped well away from Paul.
“About what?” Colin was watching her like Steve had watched her earlier, as if she was the most fascinating creature in the world. Except, when Colin did it, she felt a warmth seep into her belly that she did not feel when Steve did it.
“About Paul,” she explained, her voice showing her aggravation at his obtuseness just as it hid her reaction to his proximity. “If he comes here every night and gets that inebriated, he’s clearly an alcoholic. You can’t keep serving him.”
The deadly-delicious grin was back. “He’s our best customer.”
Sibyl was appalled.
“Mr. Morgan, that is just… completely just…” she was at a loss for words then she found them, “morally irresponsible.”
The grin turned into a full-fledged, white smile, the wattage amping up so high, Sibyl was nearly dazzled.
Although he was barely a foot from her, he leaned in closer.
“Morally irresponsible?” he repeated.
She could swear his tone was teasing.
Teasing!