I lift a shoulder, swigging from my glass as I shove the feeling away. “I think it’s great. Don’t shave it.” I’ve never been much of a beard girl, if I’m honest, but he can pull it off. It gives him an air of authority, like he’d be the kind of guy to take charge, to take what he wants.
Hell, I’d let him.
“Oh, yeah?” he asks, his eyes shimmering.
There’s a pleasant flutter in my belly. Is he flirting with me? Because that’sdefinitelya distraction I can get on board with.
But before I can respond, he extends a hand. “I’m Aidan, by the way.”
Aidan.
My palm tingles when I slip it into his, and I smile coyly. “My mother told me never to give my name to strangers.” I don’t know why I say this; it must be the alcohol. I’ve never been good at small talk, always saying the wrong thing. Hence, spilling my life story to this stranger in a bar. And the gin sure isn’t helping.
But there’s no denying I love the way he chuckles in response. A deep, warm sound that melts through me like butter.
God, even his laugh is hot.
“Okay, then. Guess you leave me no choice.” His gray eyes move over my face, lit with something I can’t quite read, and he motions to the box on the bar. “I’ll have to call you Cupcake.”
Cupcake. I shouldn’t like being called such a childish nickname, but there’s something about the way he says it that makes me feel hot all over.
“You can call me whatever you like,” I purr, and his eyebrows shoot up.
Wow, okay. That might be enough gin for me.
My cheeks heat as I withdraw my hand, embarrassed. A little kindness from a stranger, a couple of drinks, and I forget how to behave. Honestly.
But there’s a flash of something in his eyes that makes me pause. Like maybe he’s imagining all the things he might like to call me. Then he clears his throat and turns back to the bar, downing the rest of his beer, and I shake it off.
Jesus, Iris. Reel it in.
I push my unfinished drink away and rise from my seat before I can embarrass myself any further. Aidan rises too, signing the check, then turns to me.
“It will get better.” He appraises me for a moment, then smiles. “Chin up, Cupcake.”
I’m not prepared for the funny flutter in my heart at that nickname, but it’s not just that, it’s his other words too. The way he’s trying to cheer me up, to keep me positive. As if this random stranger in this random bar actually cares about me. And, fuck, I really needed that today.
I huff a laugh, glancing down in case it shows on my face. “It was nice to meet you, Aidan. Thanks for listening.”
“Anytime.” He smooths a hand down his tie and steps around me. I stare at the cupcakes, not letting myself watch him go. I wish it really could beanytime, but I’ll likely never see him again. Given how crappy my life is right now, that tracks.
With a sigh, I collect the cupcake box from the bar and head along the corridor to the restroom again, needing a moment alone to collect myself. But I turn the corner to find Aidan, waiting for the restroom too.
He glances up when I approach, mirth quirking his lips. “Fancy seeing you here.”
I laugh, shifting the box in my arms as I glance at the restroom door. “Is it—”
“Occupied. Yeah.”
I nod, twisting my lips to one side. Shit, this corridor is so narrow. I didn’t notice it before, but being in here with him, crammed close in this space, it’s impossible not to. He’s so much taller than I realized—easily six-foot-two—and his shoulders are so broad, filling out his suit jacket perfectly. His presence makes the corridor feel tiny.
But it’s not only the sheer size of him. It’s the heat I feel radiating off his frame, the tension filling the space as his gaze collides with mine. The way we’re pressed close together in the tight quarters, the gin pumping through my veins, the smell of mint on his breath… it’s all too much.
I don’t realize I’m holding the cupcakes in a death grip until the restroom door finally opens. A woman steps out, pretty and lithe and blonde, slinking past Aidan with a seductive smile as if I’m not even here, but he doesn’t seem to notice. His gaze locks on me, something simmering in his eyes. Something that stirs heat low in my belly.
“After you.” His words are a low rumble as he motions to the restroom, making my pulse trip.
I shake my head, unable to move, because if I do, I’m pretty sure it won’t be to go into the restroom alone.
