I’ve just had my heart ripped out and thrown in the gutter. I am through with men for the foreseeable future, especially ones that look like this. I’ve wasted two years with Troy and two years before him with another liar. This freakishly sexy man needs to go back to wherever he came from. He’s wasting his time over here. I’m not in the mood for casual chit-chat. Maybe coming here was a bad idea.
“Is it really?”
The side of his perfectly shaped mouth curls up in a cocky smirk.
“Um, yeah, really.”
“Yeah, but there are no seats at the bar and I gave up my chair for a woman who needed it.”
I shrug my shoulders in an “oh well” manner.
“That was very polite of you,” I say dismissively. “But you can’t sit here.”
I feel a few sets of eyes on the two of us but don’t make too much of it. I know it has nothing to do with me and everything to do with the stranger. His physical dominance fills the room. The bass in his voice reverberates off the walls. Ovaries all over the bar are probably on high alert.
“I’m not sure I can say the same for you.”
“What?” I ask in an irritated voice.
“You’re not being very polite.”
My eyes widen at how he delivers his straightforward words in the most laid back manner.
“What?” I repeat, because it’s the only stupid thing I can think of to say.
“I watched you come in here tonight. You’ve been here for at least ten or fifteen minutes. You ordered one drink and danced a little to a song. You never turned your head. You never looked at the door to see if anyone was coming. You’re alone. There’s no one sitting here, not even your purse, and you won’t let me sit down?”
“Did you ever consider that I’m waiting for someone?”
“Then they’re really inconsiderate for leaving a woman who looks like you sitting alone in a bar like this for so long.”
My face immediately softens. I’m a sucker for a flattering remark, especially on the shittiest day of my life. Plus, I notice his arm is in a sling and consider that it’s probably hard to drink in a crowded bar with only one good hand. He’s right, I’m being uncharacteristically rude. Just because my soul’s been crushed by one jerk tonight doesn’t mean I have to hate on the entire gender.
“I apologize,” I say magnanimously. “Take the chair.”
“That’s more like it.”
I can’t help but gawk at my pompous new table mate as he awkwardly maneuvers himself in the wooden chair tucked in the corner. It’s a tight fit. This man is not only tall, but wide. Underneath that generous hoodie is definitely a lot of muscle. It’s almost as if he’s trying to dwarf himself by wearing it, but an impossible feat. I imagine that a man his size with those looks is hard to miss wherever he goes.
“Oh, so you’re sitting here… with me?” I ask.
I thought he would just take the chair and sit somewhere else after our uncomfortable exchange.
“Did you order already?” he asks, totally ignoring my previous question.
“Yes.”
“What did you get? I’ll order another round.”
“No thanks, I’m a one drink at a time kind of girl.”
He stares down at his beer and his two shot glasses of liquor, then back at me.
“Are you judging me?” he asks with a serious face.
“Umm, no?” I respond reluctantly, hoping I didn’t offend the stranger. “Do what you want.”
Even with only one good arm, he looks like he could break someone completely in two. But then he throws me completely off kilter by erupting into a fit of laughter. He’s actually laughing at me. I’d be miffed if the low rumbling of it wasn’t vibrating through my entire body and down to my core.
