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I can do this.
Chapter 2
Amy
I caughta heel on the way over, but managed to not fall on my face. It would have been a fitting way to get the guy’s attention, though, looking like a complete dork. Maybe I could convince him to take me to the ER for my bloody nose or twisted ankle.
I decided I didn’t need to talk to him if I lost my nerve. I went beyond him, checking out his left hand discreetly in passing. Vivienne would be proud; I’d accomplished my first task.
He wasn’t wearing a ring, and the finger had a consistent tan. Bingo——a single man. My heart beat faster. I no longer had an easy out. I leaned forward on the bar, my hands on the cold, polished wood as I scanned for the bartender. I hadn’t thought to look for him before this.
“He’ll be back, I’m sure,” the guy said. He didn’t have the accent of a native Bostonian. He knew how to pronounce his Rs.
I got up the nerve to glance directly at him.
My God, he was handsome. His gaze fixed me in place.
I became a gazelle, stalked by a lion.
He grinned. “Hi.”
I was lost. “Hi,” I squeaked out.
Those caramel brown eyes pulled me in like a tractor beam. He could see right into my frightened soul. He had an imperfection to the bridge of his nose, which only seemed to make his face more perfect.
He swirled his amber drink. “Liam,” he said in a smooth baritone before taking a sip.
“Liam,” I repeated.
“No, I’m Liam.”
I gasped. I jerked my hand to my mouth in embarrassment, hitting my empty drink glass on the way. It rolled toward the edge behind the bar.
He reached over and grabbed the goblet before it tumbled to the floor. “Careful there, Sunshine. This is where you tell meyourname.” He offered a hint of a grin and none of the laughter I deserved for being such an imbecile.
“Amy,” I said.
This man mesmerized me——not just a guy in a bar, but a man with Hollywood looks. Dark brown hair to go with those eyes, and a strong, angular chin with enough stubble to make me wonder what it would feel like between my thighs.
God, I’m turning into Vivienne.
“Amy. That’s a wonderful name. It comes from the French word forbeloved. I like it.”
A serious blush heated my cheeks. Nobody had ever said anything so charming to me on our first meeting. The timbre of his words sent a tingle racing through me. I could listen to this man recite the dictionary all night and be happy.
A voice from my left surprised me. “Sorry for the wait. What will you have?”
I turned to see the face that went with the husky voice. The bartender, an older gent with a goatee and graying temples, had returned.
“Russ, I’m treating,” Liam said before I could get a word out. “Whatever Amy and her friend would like, put it on my tab.”
Russ nodded and looked my direction expectantly.
I pivoted back to the lion named Liam. “Taking a big risk there, Liam. What if I wanted a bottle of Macallan 18?”
His mouth curled up into a smile, melting me. “Not a big risk. They only sell that by the glass here.” He held up his tumbler, now nearly empty. “It’s quite good. Really.”
My mouth dropped. The man knew his whiskey and only drank the best. Matt’s taste hadn’t extended beyond Fireball.
