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“You’re apologizing, but you’re still laughing.”
He looked directly at me and everything inside of me turned to hot liquid. “I’m sorry. You just sounded like you were ordering something from an ice cream truck instead of a bar.”
“I suppose you ordered a scotch neat,” I said, lowering my voice into a mock baritone.
He laughed again. “Almost, only I asked for it on the rocks.” I caught the little slur in his words that time. He’d already had a few.
Suddenly, I was reminded of my father. The bartender sat my pink drink down in front of me; I passed him a twenty and picked the drink up. The hot, drunk guy tried to slide my twenty back to me. “I got it,” he said.
“No, you do not. I can pay for my own drinks, thank you!” I looked at the bartender and said, “Keep the change.” Then I picked up my drink and carried it as far away from the laughing man as I could get. I tucked myself into a booth in the back where I could drink, watch people, and hopefully stay invisible.
The drink was delicious. I have no idea what it was, but it took me about three minutes to suck the entire thing down through a straw. I was about to try and get the waitress’s attention when suddenly I looked up into those jade eyes. He was holding a golden liquid in one hand and a pink one in the other. “It’s an apology drink,” he said.
“You have nothing to apologize for. I’ve already forgotten the whole thing.”
He sat down. I scooted away from him. He sat the drink down in front of me. “I’m really sorry. It’s nice to know that not everyone practically lives in a bar.”
I was suddenly sweating. I never sweat. I didn’t know if it was the pink drink or the hot guy. Either way, it made me thirsty. I started sucking on the straw again. Hot guy downed his drink without taking his eyes off of me. I could feel the heat from them boring into my skin.
When I sucked down to the bottom of my glass he grinned and signaled the waitress. He had dimples…of course. “I think I’ve had enough, thank you.”
“Okay,” he said. When the waitress came over he ordered another scotch on the rocks. He turned to me then and I watched his full lips as he said, “Are you sure there’s nothing else you want?”
Yes, I want to kiss those lips… Oh my God! What am I thinking? I don’t know this man.
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“Maybe one more,” I said. He ordered me a raspberry Cosmopolitan. I at least knew what I was drinking.
He turned to me then, and that gentle motion let me get a whiff of his subtle cologne. It was masculine and kind of earthy. It only served to add to his appeal.
After two of those pink drinks, I was feeling bold and let myself slide a little closer to him in the booth. He showed me his dimples again and slipped his arm around me. What the hell am I doing? God, if his warm, muscular arm didn’t feel good on my back. His big hand gripped my shoulder and my bare thigh was touching his blue jeans under the table.
I don’t do this. I’ve never done this. Jesus Christ, I’m going to have so much to confess this week!
The waitress came back with our drinks. He paid for them and then he picked up his glass and held it up.
“To us,” he said. He was really slurring his words now. I was buzzed enough that he no longer made me remember my father, however. Instead, I focused once again on his sexy lips and wondered what they would taste like.
“To us,” I said with a smile. I took out the straw and downed the drink like a shot. Each one tasted better than the last.
“So, why is a pretty girl in a place like this all alone?”
“Having a rough day,” I said. My words were slurring as much as his now.
He nodded. “I can relate to that.”
“What’s got your goat?” I asked him. He laughed. “You’re laughing at me again?”
“You’re just really cute. It’s just been a really bad week at work,” he said.
“Oh yeah, me, too. What do you do?”
He looked like he was thinking about it. Even drunk, I knew if you were telling the truth, you didn’t have to think about it. Finally, he said, “I do my best to help people…most of the time. This week, things haven’t really gone my way. What do you do?”
“I’m a waitress,” I said. “Speaking of, I could use another drink.” He smiled and motioned to the waitress with two fingers. In minutes, she brought us each another drink.
I tried to pull out my money but he beat me to it again. “Thank you,” I told him. “I need to pee.” He chuckled and stood up out of the booth. I think he stood up too quickly. His body swayed, and he caught himself on the table. Then, as if he were steady as a rock, he held his hand out to me.
