Hot making out. Hot sex. All the good stuff is on tonight’s menu. Then I’ll come home, ready to change and finally, actually, get back into dating.
Is it questionable to use this guy as my own personal vibrator when I know he’s Natasha’s cousin? Maybe. But Natasha said he’s always working, super busy, and probably wouldn’t mind “using” me in return. Plus, I told her she can do the same with Memphis who’s never been into the whole serious girlfriend thing either.
Seems like a win-win for all of us.
I glance around the house as I head downstairs. It’s quiet and mostly empty still since Memphis let me borrow his truck to haul out most of the junk that the previous owners left behind including one questionably stained accent seat from the living room. The smell of mold and mothballs has shifted into something a little colder and clean since I’ve opened the windows to air the place out, but we both know there’s still significant work needed. Something that will require money that neither Natasha nor I have.
Natasha’s likely at the bar still, slinging drinks alongside my sometimes coworkers, probably stressed out of her mind wondering how she’s going to keep her customers happy when all people want to do is drink and eat during the winter. I wouldn’t be surprised if she asked me to run an order in the middle of my date just to keep up with the rush.
There’s only one bar in this tiny town; restaurants, sure, but Brookhaven Brews isthespot if you want a drink and great food. So, that’s where I’m meeting Gabriel tonight. It’s neutral territory, with lots of witnesses so that if this guy turns out to be a creep, I’ll have Natasha there as an easy excuse. And I’ll be sure she doesn’t hear the end of it, too because Memphis is an actual catch.
Snow crunches under my boots as I trudge across town because of course, it’s snowing. Again. It’s the most miserable time of year, and here I am in a formal dress paired with my trusty Sorel boots. They’re the kind of boots that can almost pass as dressy but are still unmistakably practical and weatherproof so that my toes don’t freeze off. I don’t care anyway. I’m here to get laid, not to make a fashion statement.
When I push open the door to the bar, a blast of warmth from the space heaters Natasha recently installed instantly hits me. The juxtaposition from the outside temps to the warm, wet heat inside sends a shiver down my body and my fingers begin to tingle. I should’ve worn a coat, but I was too busy trying to look good and now I’m paying for it in nipples as sharp as icicles and hands I can’t feel.
The bar is packed today with every table occupied and a few people willing to wait in the couches off to the right. Brookhaven Brews is a large restaurant with an open concept where the hostess seats parties around the perimeter surrounding a massive circular bar situated right in the center, buzzing with locals getting wasted and watching games on the massive TV screens that hang overhead.
It’s busy, but not one of the worst nights I’ve seen.
“Hi,” I smile at the hostess who looks frazzled. “I’m here to meet someone. Gabriel?”
The hostess glances at her list, then flashes me a knowing grin, recognizing me from the sporadic shifts I pick up here during the week. “Hey, Aly! I didn’t realize you were meeting Gabe.”
“Oh, you know him?” I ask surprised though I probably shouldn’t. The population in this town is only a couple thousand and I’m still technically a newcomer.
Her grin widens. “Who doesn’t? You’re so lucky! I’ve never seen Gabriel on a date before.”
Really?Interesting.
I lean forward. “What’s he like? Any obvious flaws I should look out for? Red flags that I should be wary of?”
She laughs easily and tosses her pale blonde hair over her shoulder with a smile. “If Gabriel has a flaw, no one’s found it yet. He’sperfect.”
Oh, great. Now I know that’s not possible. Perfect men don’t exist. And if they do, I’ve never been able to attract one. In fact, I’m known to draw in the most imperfect men in existence which makes me think there’s some sort of glaring flaw that I haven’t uncovered in my personality yet.
“Come on. I can’t wait to hear how this goes when you work next.” She gestures for me to follow her, leading me past the front desk and around a group of people waiting. My confidence rises slightly with every step that I take.
He’s perfect,she’d said. Sounds like I’ve hit the jackpot for one-night stands. I’m practically radiating smug energy, already planning to crown him “dick of the year” when we turn the corner of the bar and I see my date sitting at the table waiting for me.
My triumphant smile shatters, replaced by a wide-eyedno-fucking-way this can’t be the perfect cousinexpression. Because yeah, I’ve felt that dick before through jeans and it is perfect. It certainly felt like a contender for that award except this guy isn’t someone I’d ever let touch me. Because this man is a cheater.
“Here you are,” the hostess chirps as she gestures toward the open seat across from Natasha’s cousin. I don’t move from where I’m standing. I’m frozen, rooted to the spot because there isno way in hellthis is my date for tonight and Natasha’s cousin that shegloatedabout like he was the savior in her story and the nicest, most honest person she knew.
This guy.This freaking guy’s name is not Gabriel.Is this some sort of twisted punishment? Is this payback for me breakingup his relationship with the woman he was cheating on? What was her name again...?
Kacey.
“What are you doing here? Is this some kind of joke?” I finally squeak out, my voice hitching as I try to process what the hell is happening while also scanning for exits. My heart is racing like I’m being chased by a bear.Is Natasha in on this?
His gaze lifts from the menu and finds mine, and oh,holy hell.
I'm back there immediately. That bar. That hallway. The one where I'd reached out and grabbed him, bold and curious and nothing like me, throwing out every carefully written rule I'd ever made for how I was supposed to behave while working. The one where his mouth had found mine and he'd said I tasted like sin and gin. The one where I'd felt exactly what a single kiss under a sad, dried-up sprig of mistletoe in the back hallway of a bar could do to him. What it could do to me.
“Hello.” He stands, and that’s when I remember just how tall he is. Strong muscles, broad chest, devastatingly handsome face. He smells so fucking good. Exactly the way he did that night in the bar. “I’m Gabriel.” He extends his arm to me for a handshake like we haven’t shared one of the most electrifying and confusing moments of my life.
I point at myself like I’m on some sort of game show. “Alessia. Natasha set this date up.”
His smile softens as I tentatively place my hand in his. He shakes it, careful not to be too rough, but it’s not lost on me just how large his palm is and how worn it is from his work.
