Page 9 of Never Your Valentine

He shrugs. “It wasn’t bad.”

My estimation of him skyrockets. A man who likes Barbie, even if he won’t admit it, is a man I want to know.

He’s still considering me, his gaze thoughtful. “Is that how you felt while crossing the bridge? Like you were getting closer to fine?”

“How I wanted to feel,” I say.

The whole way up here, I gave myself a pep talk like I was my own life coach. This is good. This is brave. This is a fresh start.

The farther north I went, the more the pines took over while the drifts got higher. Before I even crossed the bridge, it felt like I’d already crossed into a different version of winter. Bold. Strong. Impressive. It fit, and I wanted to be bold, strong, and impressive too. So I chose my song and made sure it was ready.

“What else did you listen to on the bridge?” Grant asks me.

“That’s it.”

“It takes about seven minutes to cross. Longer than one pop song.”

“Not if you hit repeat.” I hold up three fingers.

“I’ll drink to that.” He lifts his glass. I lift mine. Both are empty.

Grant raises his eyebrows and waits, hope and anticipation in his expression. He’s flirting. He’s sending me signals. But he’s a gentleman, waiting for me to make the first move.

I could end it here. Say goodnight, nice to meet you, and we’d go our separate ways. See each other around town. Be friendly.

Or we could extend this evening into an adults-only place. I could take him up to my room and hurl myself at him, trading wise decisions for orgasms.

This man is attentive. He’s buff. I bet he’s got stamina.

Those orgasms are going to be exceptional.

I put down my empty glass. “How about another?”

Chapter 4

Grant

I slide out of the booth. “I got this round.”

Annabelle stops me with a hand on my arm. Her fingers are small, with nails painted soft pink. The warmth seeps through my flannel shirt and it’s like she’s touching me everywhere. Nice.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” she asks.

Not so nice. “Um…”

“Never let a stranger bring you a drink. That’s girl 101. No matter how charming the conversation. No matter how hot the guy. No matter how magnetic the attraction. I’ll get my own.” She stands next to me and I notice so many things at once. She comes up to my shoulder. Her hair shines like moonlight on the lake. Here in the depth of winter, she smells like a summer day—like peaches and coconut and sun-kissed skin. For a moment, I forget to breathe.

My brain is still glitching on “magnetic attraction” and “hot guy.” She’s halfway to the bar before I catch up.

I’ve got my credit card out. “I’ll let you order and I’ll make sure Callie hands it to you, but you have to let me buy this round.”

“Do I, though? Do I have to?” Her voice is teasing. Light. I like it.

“Please, Annabelle. May I buy you a drink?”

“Yes, Grant, you may buy me a drink.” She smirks as if she’s won a contest. Maybe she has. But I feel like we’re both going to be winners tonight.

She orders another winter cosmo. I switch to one of Callie’s low-alcohol cocktails since I’m driving and the weather is bad. We watch her hands dance with spirits and shakers, mesmerized into silence, until the Solduxe guys spill half a pitcher of beer. They swear at each other while they mop it up with bar napkins. The women at the table shoot apologetic looks toward the bar. Callie sighs and gets out a stack of rags.