My feet were propped up on the dash of the white jeep we’d rented to drive up the coast from Savannah to Myrtle Beach. White painted toes stared back at me as I drowned myself inside my sketchbook with soft waves of country music coming through the stereo.
Monica and Celeste, my best friends, insisted on a weekend getaway to celebrate my twenty-first birthday. We’d driven straight from the DMV after I had gotten my new license. I thought nothing more of it than that I could buy alcohol on my own and gamble.
Neither which I cared for.
I’d grown up as the senator’s daughter, so acting out wasn’t a thing that was allowed. Now, though, I was just myself.
Tabitha Ruthen.
Artist.
And I still didn’t care about drinking, but I knew it was an excuse for the girls to celebrate, and who was I to tell them they couldn’t.
The song in the jeep changed to an upbeat country jam and I tapped my toes on the dash as I scribbled my pencil across the page. I glanced up to the brim of my notebook, where I had it rested against my thighs and placed just perfectly to line up with the man who was sitting on the porch of the dive bar we were parked in front of. Monica didn’t want to waste time with drinking, so I shooed her and Celeste out of the car and to the bar. I kept my place in the front seat, though, not tempted to get out. Well, not until the mystery man walked into the open bar in jeans and a button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbow.
Didn’t men know that was basically arm porn for women?
He’d caught my attention not just with what he was wearing to a beach front, but his presence too. He exuded confidence with his buzz cut and deep blue eyes that demanded anything he caught sight of. The bartender came to him immediately when he walked in and was at his beck and call with just the wave of his hand. It took only five minutes of watching him for my fingers to start to inch, so I followed their instinct.
I opened my sketchbook and started drawing. First just his eyes. Then his lips and now I was sitting in this damn summer heat with his full face staring back at me from the sheet in front of me. I traced the outline of his jaw again, mesmerized my how striking it was. It was sharp with defined edges, showing not just his physique, but his age, especially with the light stubble that was forming from where you could tell he shaved this morning.
I swallowed, my throat suddenly feeling dry. Monica’s laughter could be heard out to the car and while I thought it was a good idea to get out and follow the sound, it was probably my worst. I couldn’t find her in the sea of people who were in the bar. It barely looked filled from where I sat, but once inside, it was crammed, shoulder to shoulder. New plan was to get in and out with a water and back to the safe haven of the jeep.
“Roger.” A deep voice spoke up from behind me where I stood, propping myself against the edge of the bar, holding out my hand, trying to get the attention of the bartender. I turned slightly to see the man I had been drawing, braced behind me. His arms caged me in with the palm of his hands resting on either side of my arms. I couldn’t move, but instead of a rush of terror, I felt safe. “What are you having, bug?”
My breath hitched as his words whispered into my ear, his breath tinging across my skin. The nickname did me in and had me sighing into his chest.
“Water,” I told the bartender, who was now standing in front of me. He nodded and pulled a bottle from below the bar and handed it to me.
“She’s on my tab.” The stranger behind me spoke up again, and the bartender left, but not before setting down a glass with dark amber liquid. The man behind me picked it up and pulled back. When I turned around, though, to head back to the jeep, he was still standing behind me with a smile on his face. “Just water?”
“Mhm.” I nodded and opened the bottle to take a long sip from it.
His eyes roamed over my body, starting at the neckline of the yellow crochet top I was wearing that hung off my right shoulder. It probably looked like I didn’t have on anything underneath, but I had on a strapless bikini top with matching bottoms that were hidden under high-waisted black cropped shorts. I watched on as the tip of his tongue escaped out of his mouth and traced his bottom lips. His eyes moved down my legs and stopped at my bare feet, before they snapped back up to meet my eyes.
It was my turn to smirk.
He was visibly turned on by me, his breaths becoming more shallow and the knuckles of his hand turning white as his grasp on the glass he held tightened. He leaned toward me and reached out to brace himself beside me again, caging me in. I let the bottle break from my lips before his descended on mine, pressing to the corner of my mouth.
“I’m not normally so forward.” His voice was hoarse as the words came out of his mouth. I wanted to draw it again, now that I could see all of the fine lines and just how it tipped up in the corner when he smiled. “But I needed to get the drop of water off of you.”
“You could have just used your hand.”
I brought my bottom lip between my teeth and let it pop out from between them slowly. He watched with intent before speaking back up.
“Are you even old enough to be in here, bug?”
“There’s that nickname again.”
“You look like a little bumblebee, bug.”
His hand reached out to the hem of my top and played with the edge.
“Today is my twenty-first birthday,” I answered his question, trying to distract from the blush I knew was creeping over my face.
“Why aren’t you celebrating then?” He used the hand that held his own alcohol and pointed toward my water. He took a sip while waiting for me to answer, the glass coming up to his lips and his Adam’s apple bobbing with the small sip he took.
“I don’t drink much.”
