“What are you having?” he asks me, breaking me from my thoughts. All I have ever had is wine before, so I decide to branch out, be spontaneous. That’s the point of this whole thing to begin with.
“A martini.” I have always wanted to try one but have been intimidated by them.
“What kind?” The bartender’s eyes bounce between Caldwell and me. I notice how they linger on him. I cannot blame her. The two of us don’t fit together.
“She’ll have a Cosmo,” he orders for me, and I let out a small breath of relief. Ordering a drink shouldn’t be harder than my calculus final exam. “Whiskey neat for me.” Caldwell pulls out one of the high-top bar chairs for me.
The Cosmo arrives in a glass that feels too delicate for my clumsy grip. I take a sip, and the tartness surprises me. It’s cranberry and citrus and something alcoholic that burns just enough to remind me I am doing something outside my norm.
Caldwell’s whiskey sits untouched as he watches me, his forearm resting on the bar, the tattoos shifting with the movement. I want to ask about them, what the ink means, when he got them, but the questions feel too personal, too revealing of how little I know about men like him. About men in general.
“Nervous?” he asks.
“Yes,” I admit because lying seems pointless when he’s looking at me the way he is. “I’m not good at this.”
“At what?”
“Talking to strangers. Being...” I gesture vaguely at the bar, the drink, the situation I stumbled into—or did I walk into it? I’m not quite sure. Two sides fighting to win out. “Whatever this is.”
His smile softens, becomes less performative, something almost real flickering in those dark eyes. “Then we’ll have to fix that.”
Is he hitting on me or being social? There is no way he’s hitting on me. I push my glasses up my nose.
“Tell me about yourself, Mable. Don’t leave out any of the details.” His steely gaze has me wanting to divulge every part ofme. My nerves have me almost cracking a smile, but the sincerity in his eyes stops me.
“We’ll need much more time than one round of drinks for all of that,” I joke, trying to lighten the intensity.
“That can be arranged.”
For the first time in my life, I want to find out what happens when I don’t plan for it.
Chapter Two
CALDWELL
There is a chance I might not kill my brother. I was annoyed when I got the last-second call that he was getting married. It wasn’t a year from now or even a few months out. It was scheduled to happen in a few days. That is why I’m now at the airport waiting for my commercial flight. I want to throttle him, and I will, but I’m not missing his wedding.
My brother has always been a wild one, ending up in different articles for his antics. He has his freedom, where I do not. Our parents are refusing to go. In their minds, there is a rule book you live by. A way that you carry yourself. Getting hitched on short notice definitely doesn’t fit into those guidelines.
We’re of noble blood. Planning a wedding takes time with all the different events and traditions. Things are expected from us. My brother didn’t sign up for that, and I’m not forcing it on him. Because it will be nice to get out of the country for a few days.
I don’t need my mother hovering over me. She might not be happy about my brother’s wedding, but if it was me getting married, even if at the last second, she’d be overjoyed. The woman has been trying to marry me off before I take over the crown.
Had she presented me with this little gem sitting in front of me, I would have married long ago.
“Do you not want to tell me about yourself?” I need a last name. Once I have that, I’ll know everything, but I’d rather hear it from her than have to find out for myself.
I spotted her at the same time the rowdy men at the bar did. Her shocked and dazed reaction to them was endearing, but it also had me wanting to lay out all of their drunk asses. It was clear she didn’t care for the attention.
She pushes her glasses up and into her hair; her dark green eyes appear larger now with her round cheeks and slightly upturned nose. She’s a tiny thing. A strong wind might knock her over.
“Well, after I—” Mable licks her plump lips, making them shiny and all the more tempting. They’re full and fucking kissable. I never gave much thought to anyone’s lips before. I know that women often enhance them, trying to make them appear fuller. I don’t get it, but I’m noticing hers, and I’d bet my life they’re real. “Okay, you really don’t need a lot of time. I just graduated college, I’m not sure where my mom is currently, and my father is dead,” she finally rambles out.
I’m trying to gauge if she’s shy or if she knows who I am. My country isn’t massive. We have a little under a million people. When I leave the country, most don’t recognize me, and I often go without security.
“Let’s start with college.” I might have to pull the words out of her. I watch her take another sip of her drink. That too might make her relax. “What did you study?”
“Urban studies.” Interesting. She might know who I am after all. It doesn’t matter, I suppose, but it would have been nice to not have that between us. It often changes how people respond to me. Actually, it might be good that she doesn’t know.
