Up the steps I went. A few groups were scattered amongst the balcony, drinking and laughing. None went near the man that had my attention; it was like the man had an aura around him, an invisible force field that kept people at bay.
Or maybe everyone was just as confused and intrigued as me, only they didn’t have the balls to approach him.
The closer I got to him, the more I understood why that might’ve been. He didn’t just have tattoos—he had blackout tattoos. Meaning, every part of his skin was covered in ink, at least on his neck, left arm, and hand. I’d bet anything that blackout tattoo continued beneath his shirt and connected the part on his neck to his left arm. His right arm had a full sleeve, and I wasn’t close enough to tell what all the designs were.
Tattoos were hot. Combine tattoos with my other weakness, older men, and I was a goner, apparently.
I moved to stand next to him, though I was careful to leave a good five inches between our arms as I leaned on the railing much as he was. A part of me was afraid if I checked him out from this close, I might just burst into flames. Still, I had to say something.
“You seem out of place here,” I remarked, giving him the side-eye as I took a small sip of my water. Even the guy’s profile was nice. His hair was thick, one hundred percent gray—or silver, depending on the light—yet he didn’t look that old.
I mean, way older than me, sure, but not like he was sixty or anything. I’d put him in his forties. Late forties. Either way, the man gave a new definition to the word attractive.
He was measured in turning toward me, and I realized then that the man was at least six feet tall—and the craziest part was, when he looked at me, when those dark eyes of his met my stareand held me in place, he looked almost familiar, like I’d seen him before.
But I hadn’t. I would definitely remember a man with a face card like his. Phew. Suddenly I understood all those memes about women fanning themselves when thinking about a man.
He didn’t say anything right away. Those black eyes of his dropped, taking me in with an intense expression that might make others shrink away. Me? I didn’t shrink. I stood there, as tall as I could muster with my short stature, letting the stranger check me out.
Finally, he spoke, and though the music was still way too loud, his voice was deep enough it sent shivers down my spine in a way the cool nighttime air wished it could, “What gave me away?” The way he said it, he had to have been well-aware what gave him away.
I took another sip of my water. “The same thing that drew me up here. What’s someone like you doing in a place like this? Looking for a college girl to take home? Have a thing for young girls?”
Who was I kidding? I couldn’t judge him, even if that’s why he was here. Look at who I was dating—three older men. The same thing could be said of them, although I would argue circumstances were different.
The circumstances were always different, though.
“Can’t say I do,” he remarked, still studying me with an expression I could only label as furiously intense. “Why are you here? Looking for a college boy to take you home for the night?”
Maybe it was just my penchant for older men, but even though his tone wasn’t flirty, that was the vibe I got from him. I broke our heavy eye contact to survey the club, and I spotted Kelly and her friends down below, dancing to their hearts’ content, with nameless guys behind them.
“No,” I said. “College boys aren’t really my type.”
“What is your type, then?”
I smiled, though I didn’t really smile at anyone in particular. “I like them a little weird, and if they’re supposed to be off-limits to me, well, that’s a bonus.” I stopped myself from telling him I liked older men; that felt a little too flirty on my side. This guy might’ve been my kind of man, but I couldn’t forget, I already had three boyfriends. I didn’t need to bring home a fourth.
Although I did wonder what my three guys would say if I tried.
The man checked me out again. “You’re very… pink.”
“Yeah, I am. Pink’s my favorite color.”
“I never would’ve guessed.” His response was dry, and yet… I detected a hint of sarcasm in it. Then his gaze dropped to my left hand, which hung limply at my side—I was careful to hold onto the cup with my right, so my metal fingers wouldn’t be on display. All those times checking me out, he must’ve noticed them. “What’s with the hand?”
I lifted up my left hand and wiggled my fingers between us, showing him that the metal ones did, in fact, bend. The contraption that was attached to a pretty bracelet wasn’t just for show. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
This guy, whoever he was, must not have been from around here. A lot of people recognized me, even now. Being the mayor’s daughter was one thing, but being the mayor’s daughter who was kidnapped for two years was another. I did have some fame left, apparently.
“Try me” was his response, a challenge in two words.
And if you knew me, you knew I never backed down from a challenge. Not anymore. Telling someone you knew about your secrets was one thing, but a stranger who didn’t even know your name? A completely different thing. Who better to know the truth than this man I’d never met before?
I said, “I had to tell a story, so I cut them off myself.”
See, that’s where a normal person would’ve blinked, at least. A normal person would have reacted in shock or surprise, but not this guy. All this guy did was gaze down at me as a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
“The story you wanted to tell, how did it end?” he asked.
