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Porter gave me another smile. Dimples. Heaven help me. “So, Michael, tell me, what brings a sexy man like you to a town like this?”
“I feel like I’m in a cheesy romantic comedy.” Only this man wouldn’t be getting his happily ever after with the stranger from the bar. He might get a nice night, possibly dinner, but that was that. It was so much better than sitting alone all night.
He arched a brow. “Dodging the question?”
“Just an observation.” I took a sip of my remaining, now-tepid, beer. “I finished school and wasn’t immediately hired, so I came here to stay with my brother while I figured out the next stop on my journey to employment greatness.”
“That’s why you were doing that coding instead of going out with your friends.” It was nice to see him taking it for what it was and not that I was simply an unemployed loser. Even though, I kind of was. Fine. I totally was.
“I was doing that because I needed to figure it out. It was driving me bonkers, and my grade counts on it. I don’t really have friends here. This town kind of keeps to their own.” And why was I spilling my guts exactly? Because he seemed to truly want to know and not be asking out of politeness. Not a typical get-in-your-pants kind of conversation, although if he wanted in, he was quickly earning the key.
“Some things never change.”
It was difficult for me to fathom a time when he didn’t make friends easily, but this town was what it was, so maybe. The hurt in his glance told me that even if it was a long time ago, it still stung, and this time I found myself squeezing his hand with the hopes of giving comfort.
“Are you from here?”
“I lived here for a while as a kid. Ms. Betsy took me in as one of her projects. When I didn’t have direction—or anything really.
Ms. Betsy. Of course, I should’ve made the connection. It was time to change subjects.
“I won’t push.”
“I appreciate it. Is this all right?” He looked down at our hands, as if now was the time to ask. He was in agreement on it being subject-change time.
“It really is.” Blissful. Comforting. Oddly sexy.
“I like making you do that.” He smirked.
“Do what?”
“Blush.”
And then, the blush I didn’t know I had started to burn.
“Don’t waste your time on the town prude.” Creeper Bob stomped over, shouting, catching the attention of far too many people for my liking. “Not worth flirting up skin and bones if they aren’t going to put out.”
Because not sleeping with him was a character flaw and not discernment. Asshat.
“I’m fairly confident I neither asked for nor desire your opinion.” Porter spoke calmly, but his eyes told a different tale. “If he rejected you, that only elevates my opinion of him because anyone who picks you has horrific taste.”
“Scram, Bob,” Jackie interjected as she placed my stuffed mushrooms, murmuring something about them being on the house, and Porter’s burger in front of us. “No one has time for you. If you keep bothering my customers, I’ll have Steve kick you out.” He took her at her word and walked away, Jackie following closely behind.
“He’s a nice fellow,” Porter teased as he pushed out of the booth.
“His nickname is Jerkhead, but you’re entitled to your own opinion.”
He sat beside me and indicated I should scooch over.
“What are you doing?” I asked, dense even for me. Especially since his food was already there.
“Coming to sit by you.”
His scent tickled my nose, all amber and cinnamon, my already semi deciding to go full mast. My ability to focus on anything but his sexiness was already being challenged before I scented him. Now that I had, game over.
“Why?” I asked, already moving over to make room for him. There was no way I was saying no to that offer, not when his scent called to me the way it did.
“Because you want me to.”
