Embarrassment spreads throughout my entire body. I know my face is flushed so I turn back around, only to see a female bartender waiting to talk to her friend behind me.
Well, shit.
“I’m going to the restroom,” I tell Layla before I make even more of an ass out of myself.
After checking my hair and washing my hands, I head back to the bar only to notice Layla talking with the guy I tried to get away from. I question even going over there but when he looks my direction, we catch eyes and a slight smirk crosses his face.
Great, my night of embarrassing moments continues.
I take a deep breath, trying to pretend nothing happened, and walk up to Layla, hoping the guy leaves upon my arrival.
No such luck.
“Jenelle, meet Alex,” Layla says, handing me my drink from the bar.
“Hi, Alex,” I say with my signature fake smile.
He backs up, holding his hands up like he’s waving surrender. “I know, I know, I won’t try to hit on you.”
I drop my head in embarrassment, not sure how to respond.
“Hey—” he puts his hand on my arm, making me look up at him “—I’m just kidding. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I get it. A pretty girl like you must get hit on left and right.”
Ugh, now I’m blushing. This guy is batting a thousand with me. I smile, a more genuine smile, in response.
“Now that’s a beautiful smile. Your other one seemed forced. I’m glad I got to see the real one. I’ll leave you two alone now.”
Before I can say anything, he turns and walks away, leaving me to look at Layla with confusion.
“Hey, you’re the one who said you didn’t want him around,” she teases, bringing her straw up to her mouth.
I turn to see him again; he’s talking to a group of guys but I have a perfect line of sight to him.
He’s definitely different than the guys I’m around all day. No Officer in the Air Force would be caught dead in a surfer-like tank top, yet it totally works on him the way his broad shoulders stick out from underneath.
His dark hair is short on the sides and unruly on the top in a sexy, spiky way, which is a stark contrast to the normal military buzz cut that isn’t required in the military yet most men keep it that way from their boot camp days.
My eyes take in his shoulders and arms that are lined with tattoos but not like a biker would have them. These look like intricate designs of art that wrap around his arms and tell a story.
Suddenly, I’m dying to know what his stories are.
He turns and catches me staring his way, winking at me before returning his attention to his friends.
Jeez! Now I’m totally making a fool of myself with this guy.
I down the rest of my drink, set the glass on the bar, and head back out to the dance floor—back to the real reason why I’m here. And it’s not to meet a man.
While dancing, I try to forget about the way his blue eyes seemed almost clear with dark circles lining them, or the way his jeans hugged him in just the right places as he walked away.
I find myself glancing his direction more times than I want to admit so I purposely turn my body away from him to rid the temptation.
Closing my eyes, I wrap my arms around my myself, hugging tightly as the music slows down, flowing like angels through my soul.
Surprise takes me out of my high when warm hands hold onto mine that are wrapped around me and hugging my hips. I know I should push whoever’s touching me away, but there’s something so comforting about it. When combined with the music reverberating in my ears a level of happiness overcomes me.
A warm breath tickles my neck when I hear the words, “I’m sorry, but the music looked like it was putting you in a trance, and I wanted to be where you were.”
I turn to see Alex watching me with a sexy smirk on his face. His arms stay secured on my waist, and I do nothing to move them, which he doesn’t miss, and he pulls me closer.
