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Especially when I felt like this.
A restless sort of energy built under my skin, a rolling, slightly unpleasant warmth, seeking an outlet.
Finding someone to leave with would be the best option to save my night. I’d been busy at work, pulling longer than normal days because Cameron was short a few guys, and even though my body was tired, it had been a couple of months without evening companionship.
That was all it ever was, really.
The evening.
It was almost like this giant barrier in my head to the possibility of more than that—something invisible to the naked eye but thick and impenetrable all the same. No matter how that energy spit and hissed when it was ready to be unleashed, I never, ever wanted more. There’d never be any fruitless searching for something I wasn’t even sure existed. No twisting myself—my life—up in knots over the idea of some soulmate who could solve all my problems simply by existing.
Thanks for that, Mom,I thought dryly. Not that she could hear me. She was somewhere on the East Coast, living with her latest husband in some giant mansion that made her blissfully happy. What was his name again? Rick? Ron?
It was Ron. I’d met him at their wedding—his big, dopey smile and overly large ears gave the appearance of an overgrown child who was happy to have someone pretty at his side.
A new song, loud and boisterous, interrupted any thoughts of husband number four.
The live band playing on a small stage was good, doing covers of popular eighties and nineties songs, but it would likely take my eardrums a week to recover. Slowly, I approached the bar, weaving through a group of college-age kids with giant arms, big mouths, and backward caps, then awhooping line of bachelorettes, holding hands, wearing bridal veils with ropes of beads around their necks.
One of them eyed me as she passed, but despite the inviting smile, the giant ring on her finger and slightly glassy expression had me keeping my face impassive when she brushed past my chest with an intentionality that was best ignored.
The line at the bar was easily three people deep, and I let out a slow, deep breath when the reality of another cold beer was at least fifteen minutes off yet.
“Fuck this,” I muttered.
I was just about to turn and tell Cameron he was on his own when I saw her.
She stood all the way down at the end, elbows braced on the bar and leaning forward to be heard by the bartender. Her sleek pale blue dress showed a considerable amount of toned legs and firm, tan thighs. I tilted my head, eyes trailing over the dip in her waist, the curves of her backside, the straps crisscrossing over her back. An inviting amount of skin was visible when she shifted on her dangerously spiked high-heeled feet. Her hair—a mass of dark, messy waves that hid her face—was long and thick, and a hot curl of interest unspooled immediately through my gut.
Her.
Her.
The slightly unpleasant warmth under my skin turned lava hot in less than a heartbeat.
My feet moved before I clocked the decision to head in her direction, and the graceful line of her arm waved in the air as she spoke to the bartender. No ring.
Show me your face, pretty girl,I thought.
The bartender finished making her drink, a fruity-looking concoction paired with a light green shot on the side that raised my eyebrows. If she was shit-faced drunk, this would be a short conversation and a quick return to my friend.
To her left, the couple parked against the bar gathered their drinks and walked away. I slid immediately into the spot they vacated, my arm brushing slightly against her shoulder as I kept my eyes forward on the bartender and settled in against the bar. She wasn’t short, thanks to the heels boosting her height, but still, I could probably tuck her head underneath my chin.
Next to me, she’d gone unnaturally still, and even in the crowded bar, I caught a whiff of something clean and citrusy. The band finished a song, and after the applause died down, they said they’d be back after a ten-minute break.
Thank God.
The bartender caught my eye, and I held up the bottle. “Another one of these, please. And I’ll pay for what she just ordered,” I said smoothly. My hand tightened into a fist on the bar when she raised a hand to gather up her dark hair and pull it over the opposite shoulder. The bartender handed me my beer, taking the cash I’d held out in a deft move. “Keep the change,” I told him.
Beside me, the woman sucked in a quick breath, then slowly angled toward me. Her head was down for a moment, but in my peripheral vision, I caught a glimpse of perfectly mouthwatering cleavage—high and firm—pressing against the low neckline of the dress, and ignored the screaming impulse to stare.
One of us would have to speak eventually, but given I’d just bought her drinks, I’d know within a few seconds if there were any possibilities here.
God, I hoped there was.
An insistent, screaming instinct had my body fighting the urge to turn toward her, and I pulled in a slow breath through my nose, locking my muscles to stay in place.
Next to me, her head finally lifted, and anticipation had my pulse racing.
