“Put it on my tab, wouldya?” the companion at my shoulder interjects.
“No, no, that’s okay.”
“Please, you’ve just been stood up. We’ve got to make this night worth it somehow.”
“Oh.” All I can think is how much I want to leave. My pajamas and a bottle of wine are calling me. I imagine cuddling up on the chaise lounge with my binoculars and seeing if I can spy Jesika and Dean through the window.
“I’m Bishop.”
Chapter Fifteen
My companion thrusts a hand out with a smile, and I’m immediately taken with the licks of ink that wrap around his wrist and bleed down his fingers.
“Maya,” I say without thinking. The vodka lemon spritz is smooth. So smooth, it’s dangerous. Kind of like Bishop.
“Well, I think I’ll call you ‘beautiful.’”
“Charming.” I snort-laugh. “And original.”
He squints. “You’re a tough nut to crack, aren’t you?”
“Only until you get to know me.”
“Naw.” He shakes his head. “I can tell. You keep things close. I bet you have a lot of secrets.”
“Secrets?” I’m suddenly feeling prickly. “I don’t know you—am I supposed to divulge my deepest and darkest to a stranger at a bar?”
“Ooh, stranger? That hurts. The fact that you don’t like what I’ve just said tells me all I need to know.”
“Really?” I retort.
“Hey!” Bishops throws his hands in the air with a laugh. “Game recognizes game! I meant no harm.”
“Sure. You probably pick up a different woman every night of the week.”
“Well, not every night,” he muses.
The vodka finally seems to be working its magic. Tension has been replaced by lighthearted banter. Maybe this is the key to happiness—vodka and flirting with strangers. I suddenly regret that I didn’t do more of this before I married Dean. I went from my parents’ house to Dean’s without a break in between, and it’s taken until now to realize just what I missed out on.
“I’ve never met anyone like you.”
“Like me?” I laugh. “What’s that mean?”
“You know…smart.”
“We’ve exchanged a dozen words between us. We’re hardly friends,” I point out.
“Not yet.” Bishop proceeds to ask me a flurry of questions—if I’m from around here and what neighborhood I’m staying in. He gives me restaurant recommendations and asks me what I do for work. I tell him as many half-truths as I can muster before he orders another round for us. The longer I sit listening to his velvety voice, the more it intoxicates me as much as the vodka. He’s not my type, not by a long shot, but then, I’m definitely not his type either. Where he is all rough edges covered in a thin layer of ink and charm, I’m poised and elegant and well-spoken. My every word measured. I’m surprised to find we have a lot to talk about, and soon, I’ve forgotten that I was even stood up by Jesika.
Bishop is confident, the way he holds himself, with his arm brushing against mine now and again as we talk…I find myself wondering what it would be like to kiss his full lips.
It doesn’t take me long to find out. By the time we’ve finished our third round of drinks, he’s pressing his lips to mine in a quick, stolen kiss that makes my heart beat double time. I’venever been kissed at a bar by a stranger, and the feeling it evokes in my body is addicting.
“I should be going soon,” I murmur between breathless kisses. He has his fingers woven into my hair at the base of my neck, dark eyes trained on me.
“Let me walk you back to your hotel.”
“Okay,” I say without thinking of any of the repercussions. For the first time in my life, I know what it feels like to think with my heart and not my head. Bishop pays his tab, and I offer to pay him for my drinks. He shakes his head in a firm no and then locks our hands and escorts me to the door. The security guard who checked my ID on the way in nods as we depart, and I pray he doesn’t call me by my name.
