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I’m not looking for money for them, I simply want them to go to the places they belong and will be cherished. My grandmother worked hard to put together a first-edition collection that made her happy and proud, and I simply want to continue that legacy.
After so long in the dusty shop though, I need to get out. Maybe grab a cocktail or dinner at one of the bar tops on the main drag. I have a few friends here that I could call, but no one who I want to bother. That’s my life, summed up; I have people close enough to hang out with, but no one who I think might show up for me if I really need it. I live my life like a recluse, trying to keep as quiet as possible until someone notices and wants to chat with me.
As it usually is lately, Cass is at home with a newborn. I brought over a basket of muffins to her and Patrick just days ago and had to actively stop myself from telling her I slept with her brother-in-law. Then there is Alana, Liam’s sister, who is nice enough but intimidatingly friendly in her approach. Wilson, my boss and friend at the playhouse, is probably out somewhere here having a grand old time, but I’m just not in the mood.
It’s late, I’m hungry, and then I just want to crash on the couch with some reality TV show that will take me out of my own head.
The Laura Inn is a good option, but it’s the Ashton hangout spot, and I’m trying my hardest not to come into contact with Liam. The man shattered my expectations for what sex would be like with anyone else, and I’m still smarting from how arrogant and growly he’d be if he knew that.
I don’t feel like diner food, so I set my sights on Leo’s, a wine bar I’ve heard has good small plates and a flight of whites that I could hear calling my name. My feet point in that direction, the people watching a good distraction as I walk the two blocks to the restaurant.
As I ask for a seat at the bar, I notice a guitar player strumming in the corner. She sings some lines of a James Taylor song, which calms my soul. Congratulating myself for picking wisely because this music plus some good wine is the medicine I need tonight, I open the menu and scan the options.
My foot taps in time with the slow sound of the summer song as I place my order, a flight of whites with a plate of lobster gnocchi and some mango shrimp tacos. I’m walking home, so no need to limit myself. Plus, it’s been so long since I’ve been out on a date, I can treat myself like I’m the most sought-after woman in the room.
The crowd in here is sensual and lively; a lot of couples talking close over tables or groups by the guitar player nodding along with glasses of bourbon in their hand.
A pair of molten black eyes catch mine across the room, and my heart gallops in my chest. Why the hell does he have to be here? I’ve avoided him for over a week, and as far as I know, he rarely comes to Leo’s.
Yet here Liam Ashton is, sipping amber liquid from a tumbler in the dark corner, his eyes scouring every part of me as we acknowledge each other. He’s clad in all black, the color of his clothes matching his eyes, only his wavy chestnut hair setting his ensemble apart from the cloud he’s shrouded himself in.
I’m not sure if he’s alone, but with the way he won’t stop undressing me from across this restaurant, I turn around and will myself not to find out.
The only thing worse than seeing him here while trying to forget that we ever had sex would be seeing him here with a date while I try to pretend we never had sex. Earth-shattering sex. Could-get-myself-off-just-thinking-about-it sex.
The bartender sets my four wineglasses in front of me and instructs as to which each is while pointing to the glasses, but I barely hear him. I gulp the first two in one drink; the wetness sliding down my dry throat as if I were parched for years. The waitress sets my food down soon after, and I begin eating as consumedly as I can.
I put my all into the food, trying to act as if it’s the only thing on the planet I’m interested in. In reality, I barely taste it. All I can feel at this moment, from the top of my scalp to the tips of my toes, is this burning, tangible thing between me and the grumpy, lethal man across the room.
Damn him for ruining my me-date.
“Can I close my tab out, Will?” a gruff voice tickles my ear, and I refuse to look back.
Liam is standing so close to me, I can feel the heat of his body on my shoulder. If I shift back even slightly, our bodies will connect. As it is, I’m squirming, the need for friction between my legs like a symptom of him being in my vicinity.
I both hate and crave this at the same time, and I guess this is what they call lust. Real lust is the kind you can’t extinguish, even if you want to. Real lust makes sane people do irrational things.
“Sure thing.” The bartender fist-bumps the man behind me, and I know they probably grew up together.
“How is your dinner?” Liam’s voice comes again, but I know it’s pointed at me.
I clear my throat, looking down at my half-eaten plate and last glass of wine standing. “Delicious.”
“Eating alone?” he asks, even though he can tell I am.
“Mm-hmm.” I refuse to ask him the same question.
The bartender brings his bill, and I take it as my chance to escape to the bathroom. Perhaps he’ll be long gone by the time I get back.
Taking my time in the bathroom, I splash cold water on my neck and examine my reflection. Jesus, I look sex-mussed and the man hasn’t even touched me. The wine put a flush in my cheeks, and I know there is wetness in my underwear that has nothing to do with having to pee.
When I feel enough time has passed, I exit the restroom. Only to nearly collide with a broad chest waiting in the hallway at the back of Leo’s.
“I paid your tab,” Liam tells me, muscular arms folded over his chest as he leans against the wall sexily.
“Why would you do that?” I nearly stutter, caught off guard by his presence.
That’s when I notice my purse is hanging off the end of his fingers, and I grab it.
