A quiet settled between us, and I knew he was absorbing my rant. “Well, you are a bright, shining red flag, aren’t you?”
I laughed. I knew he was teasing. “Better run now.”
“Are you trying to seduce me?” His smile indicated I was, and it was working.
“No, just torture you.”
He laughed. “Listen, sibling dynamics are tough,” he said, and I nodded. “But doing your own thing isn’t a bad thing. Not everyone’s life follows the same formula. Finding what we want out of life is not always a this-then-that scenario. Sometimes, it’s a lot of rejection, mistakes, and years until we figure it all out.”
I stared at him, my chin resting in my hand. “Tell that to my sisters.”
“Ah, fuck ‘em.” He waved a hand in the air and took another sip of his wine. I always loved a man drinking wine. The delicate glass in his large hands, taking small sips, knowing he could swallow it in one gulp if he wanted. It’s the swirl. The smell. It’s the care and restraint that makes drinking wine so sexy.
“I’m going to tell my mom you said that.” A coy smile spread over my lips.
“I hope you do.” He leaned closer, and his scent hit me, sending a chill down my spine and settling deep in my gut. I didn’t know if it was the wine or the conversation, but I suddenly found myself very attracted to him. I took him in for a moment—bright blue eyes. Sharp jaw, softened by dimples and the perfect amount of scruff speckled along his face. His hair was dark—almost black—and his outfit was casual, and yet he was still so striking. It had only been minutes, but it seemed like time didn’t matter.
“Want to know a secret?” I asked, breaking the silence and drumming my fingers along the bar top.
“No,” he deadpanned, and my mouth dropped as my head snapped in his direction. “I’m a teacher, which makes me a mandatory reporter.”
“You’re a teacher? What grade?”
“Tenth grade English.”
“That sounds terrible,” I remarked, wanting to swallow my tongue, but he laughed. “Sorry.”
“It’s not so bad, but being a mandatory reporter is quite difficult when I am a devoted believer in minding your business.”
I threw back my head and laughed. “Well, it’s not that kind of secret. Relax.”
He rubbed his brow and said, “Phew. In that case, yes. Tell me all your secrets.”
He licked his lip as he said this, distracting me from what I would tell him. When his teeth caught the side of his lip, I remembered.
“I kissed the groom once,” I confessed.
He gasped, but I could tell he was exaggerating, so I smacked his shoulder. “Come on! Don’t make fun of me. That’s weird, right? My sister is marrying him.”
He laughed. “Well, when did you kiss him?”
“Eighth grade. After we played spin the bottle.” I sipped my wine.
“No one plays spin the bottle in real life,” he scoffed.
“Well, not now at twenty-eight, but once upon a time, we played,” I argued. “We were actually done with the game, and he whispered in my ear, I wish the bottle landed on you. Then he pulled me into the hall closet and kissed me.”
He shrugged and then leaned in like my secret was far more salacious. “Did you slip him some tongue?”
I shook my head, meeting his eyes. “No, but he did.”
“Uh-oh, I’m going to have to tell your sister.” He pulled out his phone. “What’s her name? I’m sure I can find her on Instagram.”
I held his hand and pushed it back down on the bar. “Oh! You are a snitch!”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Mandatory reporter.”
I snorted out a laugh and shook my head. “Is that the politically correct term for snitch?”
