Page 2 of All or Notching
“Hi.” Great conversationalist I am.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
I lift the glass I’m holding. When did I empty it? “Sure?”
He chuckles. “You don’t know?”
“Yes, you can buy her a drink. She’ll have a white wine spritzer.” Sally is so helpful before she turns back to the rest of our co-workers, leaving My Guy and me alone in a packed bar.
He raises a hand to flag the bartender, pointing to his empty glass, and then mine. When I have his full attention again, I feel the heat radiating off his body. My heart pounds. Even though I typically go for older guys, I lick my lips as I stare at him, feeling sparks of electricity fire off between us. This is so unusual for me. I’ve never experienced such an immediate reaction before.
The sound of people talking and laughing, their voices raised over the music, and other patrons can be heard from every corner of the bar. The smell of fried food lingers in the air. But it’s just the two of us in this small corner of the bar.
He leans closer. “I’m Tristan.”
“Laurel.” I hold out my hand.
He takes it, his touch warm and smooth, his grip firm as he wraps his fingers around mine. “It’s nice to meet you, Laurel.” He has a boyish smile. And that dimple is killer up close and personal. “I haven’t seen you in here before.”
“A last-minute decision to join the girls from the office.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m an account manager at an investment firm.”
“Cool.”
The conversation dies for a moment while we stare at each other. Typical to my pattern when dating, I don’t ask about his job because I don’t want to get invested in something I know won’t develop into anything. My one long-term relationship in graduate school ended when he asked me to move in with him. He’d been looking for somebody to do his laundry and cook his meals. Being his housekeeper didn’t fit into my five-year plan, so we said our goodbyes. I wasn’t even disappointed. Relieved best describes my feelings. Ever since, I’ve maintained an emotional distance from any relationship and focused on my career.
“Would you like to grab a table?” He glances around the room and frowns. “If we can find one.”
“I’d rather just stay here if that’s okay with you.”
He shrugs and delivers a wicked grin. “Whatever the lady wants.”
Our drinks arrive, and we settle into some easy banter about nothing important. I let him do most of the talking while I sip my drink and then another. He makes me smile and laugh. It’s nice.
A couple of hours fly by. Tristan can finally rest his butt on a stool when the stranger on my other side leaves. Our knees bump together, but neither of us pushes away, oblivious to the conversations around us and the servers reaching around us to place or retrieve orders.
Another hour speeds by. The crowd is thinning. His friends are gone, as are mine. Tristan assured them he’d get me home safely. Usually, I’d laugh off his insinuation that I couldn’t get myself home or even permit a man I’d just met to see where I lived. It’s super awkward to shuffle someone out of my place in the morning, so normally, I prefer to be the one to leave.
I’ll blame it on the alcohol because I agreed, not ready to end the evening. Of course, Sally and Nancy gave me encouraging, not-so-discreet fist bumps before they made their way to the exit.
The next thing I know, Tristan and I are falling through the front door I somehow opened while my lips were locked onto his. We manage to get inside, already tearing at each other’s clothes. I might have flashed a group of teenagers walking up the street. But now his back is to my front door, and I’m licking my way up this bared chest.
CHAPTER 2
Laurel
(JULY)
“Slow down, honey. Are you sure about this?”
“Yes. God it’s been so long since I’ve been with somebody.”
He puts his beautiful, strong hands on my shoulders. “Whoa, I think it’s best to slow down then.”
I detach my lips to mumble, “Crap, did I say that out loud?” But I can’t drag my nose away because he smells so fucking good. Clean. Fresh. Like I imagine the ocean does. And he tastes good, like the beer he had at the bar. I stretch up on my toes to run my tongue up the column of his neck and nibble his earlobe.