We linger there a second, staring at each other with our hands clasped, until he clears his throat and darts his gaze to the barstool. I let my hand slip away from his and take a seat.
“Enjoying your visit?” I press my lips between my teeth as soon as the words are out.That’s the best you can do?
“What makes you think I’m just visiting?” He cocks his head to the side.
“The hotel key card you’re spinning on the bar.” I nod toward the hand resting on the counter, and he visibly starts. It’s cute. “Doing some heavy thinking?”
“Um, just the usual for a guy sitting alone at a bar.” He casts me a sideways glance as he sips his beer.
“And that is?”
“What the fuck am I doing alone at a bar?” His shoulders seem to slump a bit as he gives me a guilty smile.
I bite my lip to stop the grin tugging at it. “At least you have the excuse of visiting. I, on the other hand, sit at this bar alone quite frequently.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“It’s true. I think I might put off a‘stay back’vibe.”
“Why’s that?” His tone is purely curious. I like that.
“I’m not very good at small talk.”
“You’re doing fine so far. Although, now I’m wondering why you came over, if you don’t like talking.”
“I’m not sure I would've if you didn’t catch me staring. But I figured since I missed you on the mountain, I should at least talk to you now.”
“You saw me on the mountain?” Those brows lift into his hair again.
Swallowing my nerves, I nod. “I like the way you ride.”
“You bike?” His eyes seem to light up.
“A little.” I lift my shoulder just a fraction, hoping he won’t push for details. Thanks to Brian, I started to doubt not only my looks but my skill on a bike, and my knowledge of the industry in general. Even though he never ridiculed me about my job, my entire being took a hit, and I’m just now regaining my confidence. Still, I’m not at the point where I’m comfortable boasting about myself, especially to a guy whorides as well as Blake does. Fortunately, Jason heads that off any further conversation about biking by setting food in front of us.
“Two Reubens, and a side of Ranch for your fries.” He winks at me. “Get you another round?”
Blake and I both nod and Jason goes to refill the drinks.
“I guess I made a good choice?” Blake darts his gaze toward our plates.
“The best, but you really should swap the Ketchup for Ranch.”
His nose crinkles as he watches me pop a Ranch-dipped fry in my mouth, though when I raise my brows in challenge, he grabs a fry and helps himself to my dressing. Tilting his head to the side he blinks his hazel eyes as he chews, almost like he’s letting the flavor coat every inch of his tongue. Then he swallows and slowly meets my gaze. “Not bad.”
“You thought I’d steer you wrong?” My jaw falls open in mock offense.
“Well, you do have pink hair.” The corner of his lip pulls upward like he’s fighting a smile.
“That’s because blonde, like Ketchup, is boring. And I’m not boring.” I have no idea where that retort came from, but it’s actually true. I’ll claim insecure, awkward, and—ugh—slightly feminine in appearance, but not boring. Although, considering I order the same thing every time I eat here, maybe I just don’t want to admit the truth.
“We’re basing personality on hair color? Okay, what does mine say about me?” He takes a bite of his sandwich and chews with a sly grin, like he’s daring me to answer.Alright, I like puzzles.
“Well, the light brown says you blend in, but the shaggy length and hint of curl at the tip says you’re not a rule follower, so I’m going to go with paradox. What you see might not be all you get.”
Blake’s hand freezes halfway to his mouth, jaw hanging open. Then he clears his throat and looks at his plate. “That’s deep.”
“Am I right?” I nudge his arm with my elbow.
