Page 25 of Chasing Home
“Well, how old are you? Twenty-three?” I ask slyly, shifting the smallest bit closer to her, just enough to face her more fully.
Her cheeks pinken up at my question, and my chest lurches. “Not even close.”
“It doesn’t matter either way. Twenty-three or thirty-three, my interest stands where it is,” I say, my voice thick with conviction.
“Well then. I’m forty-three,” she bluffs.
I snort a laugh and pick up my near empty beer from where I left it on the table. “Nah, you’re not. But like I said, all I hear is a number. It doesn’t mean anything to me.”
She shakes her head, her throat rising with a swallow as she does a damn good job of playing off how flustered I’ve made her. I’m not a fan of beating around the bush. Not with work, my family, or women. It’s just not my style. That hasn’t changed in the presence of a woman as beautiful and complicated as Aurora.
“You’re right. I’m not forty-three. But I’m not twenty-two either.”
“Like I said, I don’t care. I’m interested in you regardless of my age or yours.”
“You shouldn’t be,” she says rigidly.
I keep my eyes on her, categorizing her every reaction and response to my statements and questions.
“There are plenty of things I shouldn’t do. Can’t say I’ve ever heeded more than a couple warnings.”
“You should heed mine. I won’t give you what you want.”
My mouth kicks up into a no-good grin as I push my second, untouched beer across the tabletop toward her. “You know that for a fact, huh?”
“I do,” she answers, tapping a finger against the dewy bottle I’ve offered her.
I’d have preferred the cap be on so she knows it’s safe, but nobody’s touched the bottle other than the bartender when she removed it.
“And how do you know that? Because I think you’re jumping the gun. You don’t know a damn thing about me yet, and I don’t know much about you. I want to change that,” I say, putting it all out there.
“And I’m supposed to care about what you want?”
I nod. “I’d prefer that, yeah.”
The corner of her mouth twitches. “It’s your funeral, then, Johnny. But don’t say that I didn’t warn you.”
It takes everything in me not to fill the bar with another obnoxious whooping noise. I settle on a wide grin instead, making sure she can see how elated I am.
“I never knew funerals could be so fucking exciting.”
9
AURORA
Two hours into my Saturday night at Peakside and I have a belly full of overly frothy beer and chicken nachos. Well, more beer than nachos as Brody scarfed most of the giant plate before anyone else got a chance to have more than a couple of chips.
I didn’t think that I’d feel as comfortable with such a large group of people as I do tonight. There hasn’t been any awkward silence to fill or the pressure to hop into certain conversations when I don’t have anything worth adding. Everyone seems genuinely happy to be in each other’s company. It’s nice. Relaxing.
The first time I was here with this group, I was terrified. I wasn’t ready to be introduced to so many people all at once, but I agreed anyway, only to regret it the moment the table began to fill.
Anna was my new boss, and when she asked me to come, I fell into the trap of not wanting to risk my job by turning her down. I know now that that wouldn’t have happened. These people are kind and real. The genuine type that are hard to find.
And like a cruel joke from the universe, they’ve all fallen into my lap at a time in my life where it isn’t possible to keep them. All they are to me now is a temptation I want to give in to but know I can’t.
I take another gulp of my second beer and eye the group, listening intently to their conversation while pretending that I can’t feel Johnny’s heat seeping into my side.
We’ve been shoved so close together now that everyone’s here, and our booth is full. I’ve lost track of how many times our arms have brushed and our knees have knocked. My tongue is going to have permanent teeth marks by the time the night is over.