With more amusement, her eyes drift in his direction and she nods, walking away quickly. I’m sure any person would think I’m crazy to give this tattooed Adonis the cold shoulder.
Turning back to him, I press my lips together and raise my eyebrows. “Is this a joke?”
He leans back, smirking. “I was going to ask you the same thing. Weird that I move to town and suddenly I’m bombarded with a blind date offer.”
“Bombarded,” I scoff. “Please—Lexi had to practically beg me to come out tonight.”
“Lexi… You mean your business partner?” he asks.
I nod and take a sip of water. “And the bane of my existence.” A thought occurs to me and I almost choke on the ice-cold liquid. “How do you know who Lexi is?”
“My nephew asked me to take him so he could request a book.” He bites his bottom lip and tilts his head, looking at me with amusement. “The store was cute—kitschy.”
I’m offended for a half a second until the fog in my mind clears.
The stranger leaned across the bar, reaching for the damn dessert menu again. He used his right hand, giving me a glimpse of the tattoos that decorate more of his body. Unlike his bright, intricate floral design made up of four types offlowers, his other sleeve was a patchwork design with a variety of random things.
1989—I assume the year he was born.
A sailboat and a pomegranate and a pair of dice.
There’s even a skeletonrock onhand, which almost pulled a smile from my lips. I wanted to ask more about them—even later that night, when we were both sleepy and satiated—but I was playing hard to get.
Not that Ineededto, but it always makes the encounter a little more fun.
“Hm, says here that the dessert menu is curated by one of the owners of a little bookstore-bakery in Amada Beach…” He read the menu. “Brighter Daze.”
Biting back a smirk, I took a sip of my whiskey sour and scrunched my nose. “Sounds kitschy,” I said with a teasing tone. Thankfully, I had insisted the head chef not include a photo of me on the small bio page.
He crinkled his eyebrows, looking at me with amused curiosity that quickly heated up. When I took a sip and caught the whiskey droplet that was sliding down my cup with my tongue, I could practically feel his burning gaze on me. And when I licked my bottom lip and held his eye contact, I knew I made the right choice by staying out that night.
Mentally shaking myself out of the memory, I glare at him, but it’s not my most intimidating.
Cheeky bastard.
“Just not interested in garnering a new stalker,” I retort, scrunching my nose.
His brows flick up in amusement. “That makes it sound like you’ve had one before.”
Only an ex-husband who won’t leave me alone.
“Nope.” I shake my head, pushing any thoughts of Stefan far away. “Because I never give any details.”
“Right,” he says slowly, nodding. “Not even your name.”
I twist my lips to the side and contemplate it. He’s going to learn it even if I go the entire dinner without givinghim the information. Figuring it doesn’t matter, I tell him, “Calypso.”
It takes him a second to realize what I mean by the one, random word. It’s an extremely uncommon name, so it would be easy for someone to find more about me. Even my middle name, Rainn, is something you don’t hear every day. It’s why I avoid giving information away if it’s just a one-night stand.
And that’s all he was.
He’s looking at me, like he’s fitting the pieces of my name to what little he knows about me so far—mostly my body.
“I like that,” he finally says in a low voice. “Calypso.”
A shiver runs down my back at the timbre I suddenly remember very well. Another thing I remember: he wasn’t afraid to let me take control. Hell, he even seemed toloveit.
“And your name?”
