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Lucas
Medical conferences weren’t really my thing. I’d only come because keeping up to date on new treatments and techniques was important enough to warrant my attendance at least once a year. Especially if I hoped to grow the practice of in-home care for patients.
This conference was located in Newport Beach, only fifty miles south of where I lived in LA, which made it easy for me to drive down and stay for a few days.
Deciding to have a drink after the last panel, I’d ambled out to the bar and noticed her. The stunning woman on one of the stools drinking Scotch. It was a lethal combination. Her hair was a smoky blond, swept up in one of those fancy twists. Her face was flawless with full lips and smooth skin. Judging by her body language, she was annoyed with her unwanted company, which gave me an opening to come in for the rescue. But she hadn’t needed it.
Nope, she’d used the most creative, albeit twisted, brush-off I’d ever heard to accomplish the task. And her wicked humor hadn’t stopped there. Our banter left me craving more time with her.
“What you in the mood for?” Now that I was closer, I noticed the unique violet color of her eyes. They were as fascinating as she was.
She didn’t hesitate. “In-N-Out burger, double, with fries and a large Coca-Cola.”
I threw my head back with laughter. Here we were, all dressed up and sitting in the lobby of the Four Seasons, and she wanted fast food. How unexpected and refreshing. “You okay with me driving?”
Her smile caused my stomach to clench. I’d been around my share of beautiful women, but my attraction to her was off the charts.
“No need. It’s within walking distance. Come on.”
She was up and off her stool so quickly, I had to hustle to catch up with her at the entrance. “How are you walking fast in those things?” Her heels had to be four inches high.
She stopped, as if puzzled by the question, and looked down. “Huh, must be the Johnnie Walker. You having trouble keeping up?”
Not at all, although I’d use any excuse to stand here staring at her long, sculpted legs. Although her face was beautiful, her body was incredible. With her heels, she was only a couple inches shorter than my six-foot-two frame. She was fashionable in a royal blue dress which hugged curves I could appreciate. So many women in Southern California prided themselves on being lean, but I preferred some natural softness to a woman. Something to grab on to.
“Maybe I just prefer to take my time.”
“Do you, now?” She chuckled, the huskiness about to make things awkward for me in the Four Seasons lobby if I couldn’t get my dick to behave.
I didn’t hesitate to take her hand when she offered it and let her lead the way outside and down the sidewalk.
When was the last time I’d held hands with a woman? I couldn’t recall. In spite of the foreign sensation, I found myself enjoying the unexpected playfulness of the moment.
Since my divorce, I’d avoided relationships or the mere hint of one. Between my career and my failed first marriage, I wasn’t in the market for another wife. Or even a girlfriend. And since I’d yet to come across a woman who didn’t want a relationship, I tended to stick to casual hookups, and avoid emotional intimacy like the plague.
Once we arrived at the fast-food restaurant, Brooke put in her order like a seasoned pro and turned to wait for me to deliver mine.
“I’ll have the same.”
Before I could open my wallet, she had her cash ready. “Nope, this is on me.”
“Thank you. Where would you like to eat? Here?” Scanning the place, I could see there were a couple of open booths available.
“Nope, I have the perfect spot in mind.”
We took our to-go bags down the sidewalk to a vacant bench by the beach. Brooke slipped off her designer shoes, and put her toes in the sand before digging into the bag. She handed me my fries before settling into her own.
She let out a deep sigh of contentment. “This turned out to be a better night than I’d planned. Thank you.”
Her appreciation for my company was reciprocated. “I feel the same. Tell me something. You still hung up on your ex?”
She laughed before unapologetically shoving fries in her mouth. “Not at all. You still hung up on yours?”
I didn’t typically talk about my divorce, but since I’d brought it up earlier, I supposed it was fair game. “No, but I’m also not looking to ever get married again.” I wasn’t trying to be a dick, but needed to make myself clear. Every woman I’d ever known wanted a relationship, regardless of what she said.
Her eyes sparkled. “Boom. He puts it out there as a declaration, so I don’t go getting ideas. Messy breakup or shitty childhood to blame?”
Her tone was teasing, but she’d inadvertently hit close to home. The combination of both my childhood and divorce had me permanently swearing off love.
