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When my gaze locks on to his, a flutter erupts in my belly, and I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind, “Kiss me.”
TWO
NOT MY TYPE
Ledger
When I stroll through the door of the Blue Anchor, the place is like a ghost town. Just a couple of regulars sitting at the bar, and they mostly keep to themselves. It’s the perfect spot to have a few hours to myself without having to answer to anyone. After the day I’ve had, I just want to be left alone. I sidle up to the bar and give Rusty, the owner, a head nod. I’ve been coming here since I was an eighteen-year-old with a fake I.D. Back then I thought I was tough shit, but in reality I was carrying around the fakest damn I.D. I’ve ever seen. But Rusty let it slide and I continued to come here even well after I turned twenty-one. He was always don’t ask, don’t tell and I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell.
Rusty sets a beer down in front of me before he moves on to the next customer at the other end of the bar. I pick up the bottle and once the beer hits my taste buds, a little bit of the day’s worries wash away. First, one of my mechanics called in, then I received the wrong parts for a custom chopper I’ve been working on. The phone was constantly ringing. Everyone who stopped in needed something, and they needed it done yesterday. I was over today’s bullshit.
The screech of metal scraping across worn linoleum draws my attention. A woman with blonde hair throws herself onto the stool and sets her purse on the bar top. Then she thinks better of it and rests it in her lap. Out of all the empty stools lined up along the bar, I have no fucking clue why she’s picked the one next to me. I guarantee you I’m not radiating come talk to me vibes.
I do my best to tune her out as Rusty gets her a beer, but I have to bite back my laughter when she asks for olives at The Blue Anchor. Rusty keeps the drinks simple here. Beer and light beer, though he’s tried to get rid of that one. Whiskey. Vodka. Bourbon. And you better like those on the rocks because mixers are as scarce as olives.
Sadly, once she gets her drink it only makes her more talkative. She rambles on about the olives and sparks and I have no fucking idea what she’s talking about. I glance to my right and out of the three people sitting at this bar of twenty or so empty stools, she sat in the one right next to me. Well, aren’t I just fucking lucky. I shift my gaze to the left and give her a once over. She’s hot, blonde hair that falls past her shoulders, but one thing is out of place…her clothes are way too fucking fancy for a place like this. I return my attention to the tv in front of me, lift the bottle, bring it to my lips, and take a big gulp. Maybe if I pretend she isn’t there, she’ll go away.
“Kiss me.”
Did I hear her correctly?
Slowly, I turn my head toward her. I’m greeted with topaz blue eyes. Even in the dim lighting, they sparkle. Her voice is sugary sweet, just as I suspected. I don’t do sugary. Or sweet. “Did you just ask me to kiss you?” I tip up an eyebrow at her, wanting confirmation that I heard her correctly.
“Yes. I need to know if I’m broken.”
Again, I give her another questioning eyebrow.
She sits up straighter on her stool. “Have you ever kissed someone and there was no spark?”
“Uh. No.”
“Of course, you haven’t.” Her shoulders deflate. “You’re a guy. Guys care about one thing...” She glances down at my denim covered crotch, but the way her eyes linger doesn’t go unnoticed.
“I could say the same thing about you.” I peer down at my crotch, then meet her eyes. She says nothing, just lifts her beer and takes a sip. I wasn’t expecting her to give up so fast. I figured it would take a little more than her getting caught red-handed checking me out to get her to keep quiet. Grabbing my beer, I take a celebratory gulp.
She places her beer on the bar, then swivels her stool so she’s fully facing me. “I just need you to kiss me.”
I choke on my beer as I fight not to spray it all over the bar top. As soon as I finish coughing, I turn to her. She’s not going to give up.
She inches closer to the edge of her seat. Her knees almost touching my thigh. “Kiss me. I need to know that whatever I’m feeling is just a rut, and I’m not broken.”
“Where I come from, we don’t ask. If we want to kiss someone, we just do it.”
She gives me an exasperated sigh. “I don’t go around just kissing random strangers.”
“And this is…what?”
“This is an experiment. So don’t worry about that.” She waves me off.
I bark out a laugh. For the second time in our brief conversation, she made me laugh. It’s a foreign sound as of late. What is she doing to me? I shake it off. “So, now you’re just using me?”
Her lips tip up into a smile. “For experimental purposes. You’re not really my type.”
I scoff. But truth be told, I’m hypnotized by her plump cherry red lips and curious how they would feel pressed against mine. “Wow. An insult on top of using me. How could anyone turn down your offer? I’ll let you in on a little secret.” I lean toward her so my face is inches from her cheek. She smells sweet and rich, like jasmine. I regain my train of thought and whisper, “You’re not really my type either, duchess.” I pull away while keeping my eyes trained on hers, wanting to catch her reaction. Her breath hitches. Then she squares her shoulders as she composes herself.
“My name’s not duchess. It’s Oli—”
“Don’t care.” I take a drink of my beer.
