Page 40 of Wild Abandon

Wow, that’s a good question for someone who doesn’t do the whole first-date-conversation thing.

“Um…probably that I was married before.”

Nate’s eyes widen at my response. Good thing this isn’t a first date because he is totally freaked out by this revelation. I put him out of his misery—and my own since I have no desire to talk about the world’s shortest marriage. Well, besides Kim Kardashian’s. Or Britney Spears’s. Look at that. My marriage wasn’t as short as I thought it was.

“Who has been the biggest influence in your life?” I ask.

“The guy who raised me—not my dad. This other man took me in. Taught me a lot about life. More than my parents ever did.”

“Anything important?” I ask.

He just shrugs me off.

“What’s your biggest goal in life right now? Aside from finding a husband.”

“That is not my life’s goal!” I yell. Then, I realize I’m yelling, so I take it down a notch. “Fine. It’s high up there.”

“I’ve never met a chick who plays the harmonica. That’s pretty badass. How many instruments do you play?”

“Three. The cello, the harmonica, and the bass.”

He whistles through his teeth. “You must be passionate about music.”

“It’s just something I know how to do.”

“You ready to play again?” He gives me a wink.

The Barge Poppers start their set, and the two of us listen to their opening songs. At Nate’s insistence, The Barge Poppers invite me up for another performance. This time, I play the bass. They ask if I know how to sing, but I assure them, I can’t carry a tune. The whole time, Nate stands in the back of the room, arms folded across his chest and a smile on his face.

When I am done, Nate takes the bottle of Jack and motions toward the back room where we play a few rounds of darts. The liquor must be flowing through my bloodstream because our conversations start to get a little brazen.

“What does every man want in bed but would never tell?”

“Anal,” he answers like it was the easiest question in the world. “What about women?”

I walk over to the dartboard, take the darts out, and line them up along the line between seven and nineteen and seventeen and two, creating a pie shape on the lower half of the dart circle. With a sharp pointer finger, I point to the bull’s-eye. “Right there.” I point again to the same spot. “There.” Then, I take my finger and start pointing to all other areas of the pie. “Not there or there or there. It’s. Right. There!” I dramatically point to the bull’s-eye again.

“Point taken.”

“What is the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you?”

We’re back at our table, The Barge Poppers packing up their equipment in the front of the room. The pub is half-full. So is the bottle of Jack.

“I starred in a music video wearing a string bikini and holding an orangutan.”

“What was the song called?”

“‘Boom’…hey, what are you Googling?”

“Who was your childhood idol?” Mine was Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music. I wonder if he’d be the Captain to my Von Trapp—wait, that doesn’t make sense.

“Braveheart.” His baseball cap is now backward. Those eyes are on full display, piercing around all the black. He has a really good-looking face. Chiseled jaw and scruff.

For the love of scruff…

Focus, woman!

“What is it with men and that movie? He gets castrated.”