“And, full disclosure up front,” I continue, reaching across the table to take his hand in mine. “I wasformerlymarried, and I do have kids,” I admit, squeezing his hand. “But if it turns out I’m attracted to men, I won’t hide in shame. My girls deserve a positive example of self-confidence.”
His eyes widen as he yanks his hand back. “You have kids?”
I wince. “Is that a dealbreaker? Because they are my world…”
“Oh, gosh no,” Micah balks, shaking his head vehemently. “I, uhm, I just never pictured myself… and kids. Don’t take this the wrong way, though. I—I just…” he trails off, sighing heavily. “This is just a first date. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
I nod, trying to cover up the discomfort I now feel with the impression that Micah isn’t into seeing a single father. While I only have the girls part-time, they’re a huge part of the package deal with me. But, he’s right, this is just me dipping my toes into the water here. Unlike my ex-wife, with her Steven Stephens, I don’t plan on introducinganypotential relationship interests to my girls until I’m sure it’s going somewhere.
Suck onthatfor maturity, Sarah.
In addition to the not being big on kids thing, there ends up being another hitch in the giddy-up tonight. Micah told me all about his aspirations to someday transfer ownership of his Forge Fitness franchise to someone else so he can move down to the city and really get into MMA training more. I refuse to commit to anything long-distance, and I’m in no place to follow him out of Ternbay.
My life is here. I have built my business on these waters. My girls are here. I don’t want to disrupt the flow I’ve got going, sharing custody of them.
But, again, that’s getting a little ahead of things. First and foremost, I agreed to tonight to figure out myself in the here and now. To get some answers about my own sexuality. However, now that he’s dropping me off back at Portside and plastering me with a hot-as-sin kiss, all I’m left with ismorequestions.
Like, for example, what in the hell I’m going to do with this new profound attraction to men? It’s obvious, gauging by Blackbeard’s sudden appearance during the kiss, that I didn’t mind locking lips with another guy—and it wasn’t just adrenaline that made me wish we’d taken that kiss further. But, while I was aroused by it, there was a distinct lack of spark between us otherwise.
So, do I take him up on the offer for another date? What if that spark never ignites?
I don’t want to force a connection that isn’t there, and the last thing I want Micah to think is that I’m just another one of those boneheads that used him before. He made it abundantly clear tonight that he’s over all that. Rightfully so, he’s a good guy—he just might be better for someone else. Someone who isn’t totally inexperienced, like myself. I’d never want to lead someone on all in the name of sexual exploration.
So, yeah. I send Micah off with a promise that I’d text him with a response regarding a repeat date, because there’s no way I can make that call right now. I definitely need more time to think. Hell, I wasn’t even open to dating again before tonight, and I’mstillnot sure if I want to before I have all my other shit figured out.
When he pulls away, I sigh and debate whether or not I want to numb this indecision with a drink. Keeping my resolve and choosing to go upstairs instead, I spare a glance through the front window of the pub. Now I’m left with one morevery interesting, question—which is why the hell do I feel so fuckingguiltyabout apparently just having been caught with my tongue down Micah’s throat? Because the way Gordy’s glaring at me right now, with nothing but sheer bitterness in his expression, I’d say he just caught thatentireheated make-out session.
Fuck.
Chapter Eight
“You’re over-pouring,” I vaguely hear Walter, one of the regulars, murmur, but I can’t focus on interpreting what it means with the sudden rush of blood roaring in my head. The fuckingnerveof them, Gannett and Micah, sucking face right outside. It was bad enough that Gannett took Micah up on the date—I’ve been all out of whack about it all night—butthis?! Un-fucking-believab—“Gordy, you’re wasting perfectly good beer,” Walter notes more pointedly, nodding at where I’m currently spilling his pint to the point that it’s mostly topping off the overflow catch.
“Shit!” I pull the glass back, tipping it upright. “Well,” I sigh, “look on the bright side. You won’t get to bitch about the foam this time.”
Evan’s former father-in-law, one of the nicest guys to ever set foot in here, grins at me. “Hadn’t pinned you as someone who ever looked at the bright side, Masterson.”
I scoff. “That’s because I’m not.”
His grin softens. “My daughter would have begged to differ, you know. Miranda always said there was more to you than just what we saw on the outside, when you were just a whipper-snapper.” On that, he leaves me before I can even ask what the hell he means by that.
What the hell would Miranda Waters know about me? And why the hell would she defend me like that? Her husbandhatedme back when she was still alive.
Walter shuffles back down the bar, sitting back in his usual spot, passing the other beer in his hand over to his best buddy, Wagner. I have to wonder if hetoosaw the show his own son just put on in front of the bar mere moments ago. Probably not, since he’s not making a big spectacle about it. That man is as verbose about gossip as they come.
Nah, instead it’s just me who is way more fucking perturbed about it than I have any right to be. Why, though? That’s the million dollar question, right there. Why does it bother me that the thorn in my side, Gannett Waters, went on a date and was just outside mauling another guy?
“Taryn!” I bark through the pass-through to the kitchen.
He looks up from the grill, where he’s cleaning up for the night. “Yeah, Dad?”
“You mind taking over for me out here?”
My son tosses the rag over his shoulder and pushes his way up front. “Sure. Everything alright?” he asks, brows pinched.
“Yeah, it’s fine. I just… don’t feel well, all of a sudden. Headache. Think I need to head upstairs and sleep it off,” I lie. Well, omit. The headache part is real, but I’ve got a half a mind to go upstairs and flatten Gannett the fuck out, instead of sleep. Still unclearwhythe urge is there, however. I should be ecstatic at the prospect of him leaving me the fuck alone, focusing his attention elsewhere.
Maybe if things work out well enough for him and Micah, he can vacate my fucking apartment and go have sleepovers athisplace instead. Hell, maybe it’ll right the off-balance I’ve been feeling having Wee-Waters in my fucking space for over a week. This should be a good thing, but here I am getting all worked up over it instead.
