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"Helped who?" I chuckled.
"Yeah, I was pretty forward, but I'm not sorry," he admitted. "From the moment I saw you throwing back that wine with your nerves on edge, I wanted to kiss you."
"Really? Do you pick other women up like that?"
"I've never picked a woman up in my life. What I did was totally out of character. I have no idea what came over me. I guess it was your story, and how you found the courage to continue sitting in that wine bar. I saw you were hurting, and he didn't do the decent thing and leave, the little shit. It chewed me up inside to think he'd treat the woman he'd sworn to love, like that."
"Thank you. At the time, I was obviously not in my right mind. I freaked myself out because nothing like that had ever happened to me, and at the same time I felt so desperate for anyone to tell me I was still worthy."
"Worthy of what?"
"I don't know. Worth their time, I guess."
"Fuck. He did a number on you, huh?"
"He did. But at the time I didn't know any better, and I don't feel like that now, not anymore. Since the divorce, I've felt stronger."
"Good. What about that Italian Stallion you were with?"
"Vince? No, that was nothing. It was a blind date that didn't go anywhere after that night."
"Because of me?"
"You think?" I chuckled, but it was the truth.
"It was me you went to the diner with."
"I can't deny that," I reflected and blushed a little.
"Then we met again at the right time."
"What makes you say that?"
With one hand still entwined with mine, his other reached over and cupped my cheek. A slow smile curved his beautiful full lips.
"Don't you think this feels natural, us sitting here like this? What are you feeling?"
I pondered his question for a moment and knew the more I heard the more I liked him. He was open and honest about his family, telling me things that should have been hard for him to air, but there appeared to be no barriers in our conversation. By sharing a little of his past, Sawyer helped me understand his outlook on life. I could see he had more maturity at his age than Logan ever had.
"Better. I feel much better." Seeing his broad smile set a small colony of butterflies fluttering around in my belly. He'd awoken feelings I hadn't felt for a long time, not since I'd married Logan. I figured no matter what might happen in the future when I was with him, Sawyer had the right words that made me feel desired.
He stood and stepped back from the table, pulling me with him toward the bar. "Okay, since we're taking this slow, I need to know things about you. What's your favorite drink?"
"Vodka, grenadine, and ice."
"Nice. I was planning on making a list for Kate, the housekeeper, but I can make that right now." He opened the small freezer in the outside fridge and pulled out a frosted bottle of vodka, took a clean highball glass from above his head, and steadily poured a generous measure from the bottle.
Next, he turned and looked at the liquors on the small bar behind him and lifted the distinctively long grenadine bottle with a measuring cap already in place. He poured the drink until the glass was half full. "For the ice—cubed or crushed?"
"Crushed," I replied, marveling at how effortless our date appeared to be for him.
"Now," he continued, placing a paper straw in my drink. "You're going need to know mine." He slid my drink over to me. Reaching up, he chose a wide tumbler for his drink. "Bourbon. One large pour, two fingers," he stated, filling half the glass. "Two cubes of ice. No more," he said in a serious tone, but a smile played on his lips. "I call it the Two by Two, cause it's two of everything and two of these smooth out the creases of my day." His comment made me chuckle and I was rewarded with a grin before he slid his poker face back on.
"Wine, usually with meals. White mainly, because have you seen these pearly whites? People pay to have a smile like mine. They're not all blessed with great genes like I am," he said, tongue in cheek. " I'm not ruining them by staining them with red. Besides it smells like a combination of piss from a dehydrated camel, white vinegar, stems of ginger, and a dash of molasses."
"That's a very precise recipe. It sounds like you've been experimenting."
He chuckled. "If you've tasted red wine, you can imagine all those things tossed together in a bottle and left to breathe at room temperature for however long it takes for someone to drink it. Anyhow, forget that. Do you think you can remember how to make me my drink for the moments you'll be pampering me?"
