He shakes his head softly, breaking the moment to bring his drink to his lips. “It’s almost like you have no idea how fucking beautiful you are. And not in the classic, I’m a hot redhead with an attitude, beautiful—”
I laugh, interrupting his sweet declaration. “Is that even a thing? Hot just because I’m an angry redhead?”
“It is to me.” He shrugs. “You’re like a mix of Jessica Rabbit meets Poison Ivy. So sexy. And don’t even try to argue with me there.” His eyes fall to my chest, to the obvious cleavageready to burst from my bridesmaid dress. “A super hot redhead with an attitude. But then you have to drive the stake further into my heart by having a little bit of Shari Lewis in you.”
“Who in the hell is Shari Lewis?”
Jim’s mouth pops open and he stares at me as if I just swore on his grandma’s grave. “Shari Lewis is the actress who voiced Lamb Chop…remember Lamb Chop? That puppet?” He makes a C-shape with his hand, clapping his fingers together to mimic a puppet’s mouth.
A laugh rips out of me and I reach over to grab his hand, crumpling his fist and his sad make-shift puppet. “You’re comparing me to a lamb puppet?”
He smiles big enough that his dimple pops out. “I am. You’re hot like the angry redheads and at the same time you have this sweet soul like Lamb Chop. That’s what does it for me—you’re deep, finding beauty in music and the meaning in something like that. It’s…it’s rare.” He brushes his emotion off with a sip of scotch.
I stare at his strong profile, the handsome jawline. Against my better judgment, I’ve had a small crush on Jim since the moment I met him. He has this charisma to him, able to carry a conversation and make small talk with any stranger, able to make someone laugh no matter the circumstances. Confident in himself and his abilities, but not cocky. He has the same smooth talking playboy persona Ryan did, once upon a time. And in another life, I would have wanted him badly.
Or, I would have at least had my fun with him, even though he has blond hair.
“You know, Jim? You’re not as bad as you pretend to be.”
He laughs into his drink. “That’s rich coming from someone who refuses to go on a date with me.”
“Trust me when I say, you don’t want to date me.” I catch my reflection in the mirror behind the bar, noting my flushed face, redness starting to show on my chest and the exaggerated freckles from the summer sun. I also notice something I rarely see—a genuine smile–and I realize now that it’s been on my face all evening since being around Jim.
He turns to me, an arm coming to rest on the back of my chair as those broad shoulders face my side. “That’s right. I tend to ask out women I don’t really like, hoping to get repeatedly rejected.”
I tilt my head in his direction, pulling my brows together. “Now that I think of it, have you ever really asked me out? All I can recall are lewd sexual comments while we are in large groups of people. Not exactly my kryptonite.”
He squints back at me. “Is someone wishing I would?”
I throw my head back and laugh. “Oh, Jim. First of all, you couldn’t handle this redheaded lamb puppet; secondly, my life is complicated. Dating and relationships are something I can’t do right now.”
“Why’s that?”
I hesitate, feeling the words gather at the tip of my tongue. I almost want to tell him the way my world has been turned upside down, and how most days I’m scrambling to keep myself from drowning. Instead, I defer, ushering the bartender over for another round. “That’s a story for another day.”
~
“Oh my God! You’re going to drop me!” I squeal, clinging to Jim’s shoulders for dear life.
“If you would stop wiggling,” he grunts, pausing to hike my legs higher up on his back, “this would be a heck of a lot easier.”
“I think it means you need to workout more.”
“If you know of a place that lets you practice carrying around drunk girls, sign me up.”
“I’m not drunk.”
He turns his head to smirk at me at the same time I lean my weight forward over his shoulder. My nose and cheek brush the soft skin under his eye, and I can see the flecks of green in his blue irises. He stops abruptly but doesn’t break my gaze.
“Is the ride over?” I mumble quietly as he releases his grip on my legs. I slowly slide down his back, his hands never leaving my body as they travel up my leg, to my thigh, resting on my hip before he turns around.
“This is your room, I think?”
I look up at the door and see the familiar numbers etched across the wood. “Oh, right.” I swallow hard. “Where’s yours?”
He ushers behind him with a thumb over his shoulder. “Just a few down the hall. Practically neighbors.”
I exhale a laugh through my nose as I open my clutch to retrieve the room key. “Thanks again…for tonight,” I say, turning to meet his gaze. “I had…fun. Fun is probably anunderstatement…I had more fun tonight than I’ve had in years, to be honest. How sad is that.” I chuckle awkwardly, waiting for him to laugh at my expense, but he doesn't. Instead, his body moves a step closer. He looks down at me, lips parted as he speaks softly.
