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“No martinis.” He raps his knuckles on the bar. “This is a shot-and-beer joint.”
She laughs, and the sound is so out of place in this dark cavern of despair, all eyes land on her, waiting to see what she’ll do next.
“Sorry. I’m new.”
Brand new, I think. Like just arrived from Mars or something.
O’Brien waits and glares.
Susie Sunshine is undeterred. “Let’s see…” She swings her bare legs side-to-side. “I’ve never had a shot. Not sure I’d like it, so how about a beer?” She flashes a bright white smile and points at me. “I’ll have whatever he’s having.”
With a nod of his silvery-gray head, O’Brien nabs a mug from the cooler and fills it. He sets it before her and grabs mine before I can stop him. Once it’s refilled, he slides it to me and hightails it to the other end of the bar as if he’s afraid he might catch whatever this chick is spreading.
She hoists the heavy mug and raises it to her lips before taking a careful sip. I’m trying not to look, but it’s hard not to. Especially when her little pink tongue darts out to sweep the foam from her upper lip. I follow that tongue as intensely as I would if I were laying a bead with my welding torch.
She wrinkles her nose, and her shoulders shimmy. “It’s a little bitter,” she says aloud to no one in particular, “but refreshing.”
After a follow-up sip, she catches me staring and asks me what I think.
What do I think? I think I need to get out of here. Happy, bubbly girls are no longer in my wheelhouse.
I clear my throat. “What?”
Her smile widens. “The beer. Do you like it?”
I look down at the full mug in front of me as if I’m surprised to see it, even though my hand is wrapped around the handle. “Um…yeah.”
She giggles that happy, girly laugh again. “’Course you do.” She makes a funny face. “Duh, Emily. Why would you be drinking something you didn’t like?” She slides onto the stool beside me and thrusts out her hand. “I’m Emily. I’m new in town.”
I stare at her hand and then back up at those expressive green eyes. You’d think I was raised in the wild for all the manners I’m able to demonstrate. She gives me a gentle shove with her outstretched hand. “Whatsa matter? Cat got your tongue?”
The last time I shook someone’s hand was when I was hired at the welding shop three years ago.
I clear my throat. “Jack,” I say. I hold out my hand, and she grasps it with her small one. It’s soft and warm, and the longer we’re connected, the warmer I feel. My cock twitches. The rest of her is probably soft and warm as well. A handful of freckles dance across the bridge of her nose.Why the hell am I so taken with this bouncy little nutjob?
“You lost?” I ask, releasing her hand and returning to the familiar cold of my mug.
Her face puzzles. “Lost? No. Why?”
I wave my hand, encompassing the dingy bar. O’Brien leans in the corner, watching us, as do the two misfits seated on the end. The third guy couldn’t give a fuck.
That should be me—the one not giving a fuck. Why this chick glommed onto me, I have no clue. Maybe because I’m the only other person here who isn’t on Social Security.
She beams at me, and no matter how cold and solid that block of ice in my chest is, it’s feeling the heat.
“I’m not lost. I just checked into the motel near the K-Mart.” She gestures toward the ramshackle motel up the road located across from an abandoned shopping mall. The place is a shithole. I know because I’ve rented a room there a few times. I don’t take girls back to my apartment, and it’s the only place in the city that advertises an hourly rate. It’s also not the kind of place this girl, with her sunny yellow dress, fiery red hair, full pink lips, and smiling green eyes belongs.
“How’d you end up there?”
“I don’t have a car, obvs.”
“Obvs.” I roll my eyes at the abbreviation.
“And it was within walking distance of the bus station.”
Is she kidding? “The bus station is at least six miles from here.”
“I know,” she huffs. “I could’ve done it in under two hours, but dragging two suitcases and hauling a backpack slowed me down.”
