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“Don’t care much about that. Was only makin’ an observation.”
“Because you like giving me shit.” And I liked it when he did.
We headed out to my SUV. I got the navigation going, and then we were on our way. It was a bar and grill that also had live music, open-mic nights, and even did some karaoke.
Brian was quiet for most of the drive, and I let him be. My assumption was that he was nervous or maybe preparing himself mentally. I didn’t know if he had some kind of social anxiety, though it seemed like it, given that attack he’d had at the store. I thought he just liked being alone too. Not that I thought he never went out or anything, but from what I’d seen, he tried to avoid it as much as possible.
It took us about forty-five minutes to get there. The parking lot was already pretty full. The building looked like it came from an older Western, and the funny part was, I couldn’t say if that was on purpose or not. “I know it’s judgmental of me, but in a place like this, I’d worry a little if we were on a date.” I killed the engine.
“It’s weird, huh? Don’t get it—why people would care about that, why they don’t want folks to just find their happiness wherever they can.”
“You can say that again. It’s such a strange thing to be angry about.”
“Sorry you gotta go through that.” Brian reached over and squeezed my thigh before pulling back.
“Yeah, me too. And I can’t pretend it’s something I’ve dealt with a lot personally. I come from an accepting family and live in an accepting city, but it’s still always there.” Brian nodded. The last thing I wanted was to bring the mood down, so I added, “Anyway, let’s do this. I’m gonna make you have fun, if it’s the last thing I do.”
As I was getting out of the car, I was fairly certain I heard a soft, “You always do,” and they were maybe the best three words I’d ever heard.
And that thought had been really fucking sweet. What was he doing to me?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Brian
“Rowdies is quite the name,” Charles said as we walked toward the building. When we got there, he pulled the door open. I waited for him to walk inside, but he signaled for me to go first, and I did. “Have you been here before?”
I shook my head. Music pulsed through the air when I stepped inside. I’d expected it to be country music, but there were a few guys on the small stage singing a rock song I didn’t recognize. It wasn’t as busy as I’d assumed it would be from the parking lot, which made the knot in my chest loosen some. The thought of something happening like it did at the grocery store was a weight in my gut.
There was a hostess at the counter, wearing a button-up shirt, the top few undone, her breasts pushing out of the top. I looked away both out of respect and because it just didn’t do it for me the way I’d heard men talk about it my whole life. I didn’t feel heat in my groin. I didn’t feel the urge to hit on her or wonder how it would feel to touch her.
“Just two, or do you handsome gentlemen have others joining you?” she asked.
There was a rock in my throat, but before I could work it free, Charles said, “Just two.”
“Right over here,” she said, sounding flirty. I saw people do that all the time—flirting—people at work, people I knew, Sutton with Jasper, and even more, Jasper with Sutton, and it was another thing I couldn’t wrap my head around. I wouldn’t know the first thing about doing that, and it wasn’t in my nature to try. I was really fucked up when it came to sex and intimacy. I’d come to terms with it a long time ago, but I’d been thinking about it more recently.
She led us to a booth. I accidentally brushed against her when I sat down, apologizing quickly. She gave me a playful smile. I turned away while she was handing me the menu. I fumbled the damn thing, hitting the saltshaker and knocking it to the floor. “Shit. Sorry. I got that, ma’am.” I bent over and picked it up.
“Aren’t you the cutest thing? I’m gonna bring you something special just because I like you so much.”
“No, thank you, ma’am. You don’t gotta do that.” Please don’t do that. She frowned, and I knew I’d disappointed her, but she recovered quickly, giving me another grin before letting us know our waitress would be with us shortly and walking away.
“You know she wants you, right?” Charles asked, pumping his brows.
“I reckon she does, though I can’t figure out why she would call a nearly fifty-year-old man cute. That’s for babies.”
