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Served her right for being so goddamn overbearing.
When I headed back out into the bar, I could see through the front windows that the storm was still raging. I saw Mr. Gorgeous at his table in the corner. He was alone, he had a drink in front of him, and he was looking at his phone. He’d taken off his blazer and he did not look worse with less clothes on. His arms in that snug black T-shirt appeared to have been sculpted by horny demons.
I tore my eyes away before he could catch me staring. I’d already embarrassed myself enough.
Most of the seats in the lounge and a few along the bar were taken. The vibe was west coast chill, the music cool and subdued, and the dress code was more lax than the hostess’s attitude had suggested.
I went up to the bar, where I sat myself on a stool and waited for the bartender to notice me. He was busy at the other end, lining up drinks at the servers’ station for the sleek cocktail waitresses to pick up.
It hit me that I’d never actually sat at a bar all alone before.
I usually had my girls with me in a bar, and I’d really only been going to bars—legally—for a couple of months. While I waited, I decided to snap a few discreet photos of the beautiful wood bar for my aunt Madeleine, an interior designer and my employer. Then a text popped up from Danica.Epic storm on the highway! We had to pull over. Will keep you posted. Love you!
Then a text from her twin sister, Daniella, popped up.Do not let Margot’s bitch factor run rampant. And do not let her cut your hair.
Yeah; too late.
Shit, I really needed my girls here. Maybe I’d just wait here until they came. Or at least until I ran out of beer money and maybe the rain let up and I could make it back to my hotel without getting washed away.
I texted them back.Okay, be safe.
I looked up as the bartender approached; he set a drink on a coaster in front of me. “From the gentleman in the corner.” I watched him walk away without taking my order, then my eyes dropped to the drink in front of me.
It stood in a tall, curvy glass that was somehow reminiscent of a woman’s figure. The liquid, on ice, was a perfect ombre of deep pink at the bottom fading up to blush, and it had an edible flower perched on top. It looked like a piece of art and probably cost thirty bucks. And while I would’ve loved to drink it,what the fuck.
I looked like shit. Why was this guy hitting on me?
I looked into the corner where he sat. He looked over at that exact second and I looked away.
Damn. I wanted this drink. Did I send it back and order up whatever cheap beer I could afford? Or just drink it and play his game?
Was this guy actually looking for a hookup?
With me?
I wasn’t exactly here for a hookup. Plus, I had a party to go to.
I was wearing decent panties, though.
Really could’ve shaved the bikini line this morning…
“Hello again.”
I startled as he leaned in casually next to me. He’d brought his drink over with him. And his blazer. My mouth drifted open as he joined me at the bar without asking, but two seats down, draping his blazer on the empty stool between us. Confident, but not too pushy.
I stashed my phone away. My brain was already rapidly calculating the odds that I’d let this stranger in my pants tonight. No, because he was a stranger. Yes, because he was insanely hot and I hadn’t had sex since… January?
I wondered if he’d change his mind about wanting in my pants after I started saying weird, nervous shit and he realized that I had no game, and I wasn’t the cutely flustered coed he thought he’d romantically crossed paths with on a stormy night but a total disaster who hadn’t been laid in like six months.
“Hi.” I stared at the pink drink in front of me. Fuck, it looked delicious.
When I made no move to touch it, he said, “Taste it.”
Whoa.
His words gripped me unexpectedly, in a deeply intimate place. Not just the sound of his voice—low, sexy, almost taunting—but the way he said the words. It was a command, and it made my guts twist in an amazing, euphoric way.
Not good.
