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Who would’ve thought a place referred to as ‘the cock den’ could have potential? Certainly not me.
Yet here I sit, surveying the scene with approval. A relaxed energy ripples across the room even though there’s a Friday night crowd. That calm is inviting, which is rare for an outsider to find in a town this small. The welcome feeling extends to the booths along the outer edge that are the perfect size to get better acquainted. But the chill vibe and cozy seating options aren’t what hold the most appeal.
Attractive men fill the space in a vast majority. The uneven ratio makes it seem like these guys have been planted on purpose for single ladies such as me. Abbie’s preferred location while on the prowl is determined to earn my vote as well. I might be quick to agree if I’m left alone much longer. Maybe that’s why my best friend is running late. Or perhaps she’s very thoughtful to let me sample the goods prior to her arrival.
Loud laughter draws my attention toward the main attraction in Roosters. Behind the expansive bar that monopolizes the room, a guy is putting on a performance while pouring liquor into a shaker. He flips three bottles at once to earn applause from his adoring fans. Not that I can blame the handful of women currently drooling on the counter for him. His smile steals the breath from my lungs.
I’m openly staring at this point, but the man is irresistible and seductive. Like cuddling by a steamy fire after freezing my tits off in the winter months. That level of smolder results in girls doing unmentionable things in public restrooms. On cue, visuals of him demanding dirty deeds from me pepper my mind. Heat spreads through me and I’m suddenly very thirsty. My fingers blindly pluck the cherry from my drained glass. The sugary fruit soothes my dry throat, allowing me to continue gawking in comfort.
He saunters past his captivated audience at the counter, knowing full well the impact his presence has on them. His broad frame is defined with muscles and confidence. There’s just enough stubble on his jaw to chafe after delivering toe-curling friction. Deep dimples appear when he smirks. I nearly sway in my chair at the sight from this safe distance. The ones in direct vicinity openly wilt and swoon from hydration overload to their nether regions.
Dark hair gleams under the overhead lights, the rich chocolate shade streaked with a mesmerizing shine, while blue eyes appraise the room. It’s a stark contrast we share, and my imagination gallops off into the sunset. The house has a picket fence—painted sunny yellow because we’re not a total cliché—surrounding a grassy yard where our two kids and adopted mutt play. A smile curls my lips at the pleasant visual. In my defense, it’s only natural to conjure a fantasy fit for the occasion.
As if hearing the fictitious future I’ve created for us, he sidles up against the rail to address a customer. His elbow rests on the glossy wood when he leans in. Ropy veins snake along his tattooed forearm—my absolute downfall. I sigh and cradle my cheek on an open palm. Had I met him a few months ago, this would be a very different story.
That doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the view, though. At least until an unfortunate blockade cuts the show short. My gaze narrows on the masculine figure, drifting upward until settling on his face. It doesn’t take more than a passing glance to determine his boyish features lack the burly edge of the sexy bartender. I raise my brows in question.
His wag in response. “Can I buy you a drink?”
Before I can answer, Abbie appears out of nowhere and drops onto the seat across from me. “I’d love a margarita. Extra salt on the rim. Thanks, beefcake.”
He blinks at her timely arrival. “Huh?”
She mirrors his flat expression, then a thought must occur to her. “Oh, gosh. Where are my manners? Please, and thank you.”
The guy still looks dumbfounded, his mouth moving silently for several beats. “Um, you’re welcome?”
“We’ll see.” Her acquired tastes give him a calculating once-over. Then my friend glances at me. “Do you want a refill?”
“I’ll get it myself.” Ulterior motives make a tasty garnish.
“He literally just offered.”
“In hopes I’d provide something in return,” I counter. I make a slicing motion to indicate my non-interest.
Abbie scoffs and shifts her attention to the guy, only to find him missing. A pout replaces her coy grin. “Do you think he went to get my beverage?”
“Highly doubt it.”
“Meh, his loss.” A noncommittal noise chirps from her. “There’s plenty more where he came from.”
I hum in response. My focus travels back to the sex on a stick who’s deep-fried in untamed hunger and kinky explorations. He probably delivers multiple orgasms faster than popping caps off beer bottles. His biceps flex while he completes the latter task. The jerky motion sends my mind straight to the gutter.
“Oh, my. Has someone piqued your interest?”
My gaze doesn’t stray from the direction that will more than likely lead to a dead end. I manage to string a few consonants together into unintelligible nonsense.
She laughs and swivels in her seat to search for the target. “Who are you ogling?”
I force my focus off the bartender. “Huh?”
Her butt lifts from the chair while she scans the crowd. “Does this mystery man meet the criteria?”
“He probably isn’t interested in a serious relationship,” I mutter.
Abbie pauses her seeking efforts to study me. “You’re really sticking to that?”
I frown at her disbelief. Not that I’m surprised. There are plenty of people who scoff at my desire to settle down at the ripe age of twenty-three. This isn’t the first time that the ballbuster sharing this table with me has shared her doubt. It probably won’t be the last. But her difference in opinion won’t impact my decision. I’ve traveled down the meaningless fling route, only to discover it leaves me feeling empty.
