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Chapter 1
Halley
The second I walk through the front door of Hardy’s, the swanky downtown bar, my heart sinks, and I take a breath. I need to know the truth. I need to know if those text messages were real, and if they were, I need to see them with my own eyes.
My eyes scan the room, trying to see if Brad is here, and when I don’t see his telltale blond head anywhere in sight, I breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe tonight won’t be as bad as I think. I take a tentative step toward the bar, and the first thing I notice is the bartender. Tall and slim, with a five o’clock shadow that accentuates his jaw. The closer I get, the more intrigued I become. His black hair is splattered with dark-blue dye, a contrast that highlights his bright-blue eyes, and when they connect with mine, I can’t help the way my heart stutters.
“What can I get you?” he asks, his voice low, sending a sensation coursing through my body that I haven’t felt in months. My eyes take in everything about this man—the black T-shirt monogrammed with the bar’s name on his chest, the silver chain around his neck, and the spacers in his ears. All of these things make me question why he’s working in a place like Hardy’s. The clientele here are primarily businessmen who come in wearing suits and ties, drink brandy neat, and pay with a black card. But the longer my eyes scan this man from head to toe, the more intrigued I become. “Miss?” he questions, snapping my eyes to his as he graces me with a smile that tells me just how obvious I was in checking him out. “Do you want a drink?” he asks once more, this time leaning on the bar as I take a seat at one of the empty barstools.
“Sorry,” I mutter, my cheeks flaming red. My fair skin hides nothing as he winks and stands back to his full height. That’s when the front door opens, and my eyes connect with the couple entering the bar. The second I see that blond hair come into view, every fear, every horrible thought I’ve had over the past few hours comes rushing to the surface.
There, in front of my eyes, is my boyfriend of three years with his arm around his secretary, who looks stunning in her tight pencil skirt, white blouse, and pin-straight blonde hair tied up in a high ponytail. For a split second, I wonder if my eyes are deceiving me. Maybe he’s just having a meeting with her after work? Then he smiles the smile that used to be reserved for me and leans down, kissing her on the lips as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Shit,” I whisper as the tears begin, my hands shaking as I take out my phone and read over the messages I received not even three hours ago.
Unknown: Your boyfriend isn’t who you think he is. He’s been seeing his secretary for months.
Unknown: Go to Hardy’s at six tonight, and he will be there with her.
Unknown: I’m sorry.
“Are you okay?” the bartender asks, those crystal-blue eyes full of concern. I shake my head, letting the tears fall because who the fuck cares at this point. I can’t tell if the tears are from sadness or anger, but it doesn’t matter right now. All I want to do is go over there and bitch-slap him so hard his mother feels how much of a douche canoe her son is. “That your boyfriend?” His voice is quiet, reserved, and when my eyes meet his, I see pity staring back at me.
“Ex-boyfriend now,” I mutter, feeling the anger start to bubble up inside me. Brad promised me forever, even though deep down, I knew he wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted spice, I wanted lust, and I definitely wanted more than one orgasm every few weeks. But I stayed because he’s what I thought I needed. Already in my late twenties, I wanted to get married, and everyone always said we made the perfect couple. I believed them.
"Did you know he would be here?" he questions, a brow lifted, and a concerned look plays behind those eyes that have quickly become my favorite part of this man. I nod, taking out my phone and showing him the text messages. "Wow. Well, I guess it's better to know now than waste more time."
“You could say that,” I say, wiping away the stray tears that have fallen and are now staining my cheeks. “I just can’t tell if I’m more angry or sad at this point. I mean, we’ve been together three years, and I thought it was going somewhere even though our sex life left a lot to be desired…” My eyes widen, and I slap my hand over my mouth because I can’t believe I just said that.
“Well, then he doesn’t deserve you.” God, this is so embarrassing. I shake my head and place my face in the palm of my hands, wanting the floor to open up and swallow me whole. “Any man who can’t satisfy his woman shouldn’t have her in the first place.” God, it just keeps getting worse.
“I can’t believe I just told you that...you’re a total stranger.” He smiles, holding out his hand as if waiting for me to shake it. I tilt my head in question, and when he nods for me to take his hand, I smile, doing as he says.
“Hi, my name is Ian Walker. I own this bar and hate potato chips.” His eyes are smiling, and I can’t help but do the same.
“You hate potato chips? How is that even possible?” I chuckle, loving how he completely took me away from the moment with a single touch.
“Yes,” he states matter-of-factly, as though he’s not the most interesting person because of this fact. “Now you.” He nods to me, waiting.
“I’m Halley Parker. I love potato chips, and hate Skittles.”
“See? You don’t need to be embarrassed because we’re not strangers anymore.” God, this man is healing the crater in my chest with every sweet thing that comes out of his mouth.
“Touché, Mr. Walker.” He smiles, pulling out the rag tucked into his back pocket and wiping down the already clean bar in front of us.
“Are you going to go over there and confront him?” the bartender asks as my eyes dart over to where Brad is sitting. The woman seductively plays with his tie, leaning in and kissing his neck, causing me to gag subtly.
“I want to...I need to.” I admit, taking a deep breath and trying to figure out what I’m going to say, but my mind comes up blank. I wish my best friend, Jade, was here because she would know exactly what to say and how to say it. Before I can dwell on any of it, a shot glass appears in front of me. My eyes lift only to meet the glimmering ones of Ian, who just smiles and pushes the glass toward me.
“If you’re going to go over there, I think you need this.” I blush, knowing he’s right. “Just so you know, he’s an idiot.”
“How do you know that? You don’t even know me.”
“Well, for one, I know your name is Halley, and you love potato chips. Something I won’t hold against you, by the way,” I can’t help the laughter that bubbles up in my chest. “But in this case, I don’t need to know you to know he’s an idiot.” God, those eyes bore into mine, and that weight on my chest lifts just a little bit, making me wonder if meeting him tonight was fate.
Taking one last look at the shot glass, I down it in one go even though I have no idea what’s in it and cough as the vodka hits my throat. I’m grateful when Ian then places a glass of Coke in front of me, and I take a sip.
“God, it’s been a long time since vodka and I have seen each other.” Ian chuckles low in his throat as he takes the shot glass off the bar and places it in the sink behind him. “Well, here goes nothing…” I mutter. Spinning in my chair, I take a deep breath, knowing that after this moment, my life will never be the same.
