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I couldn’t wait to call the girls and let them know how the interview went. Before I could reach the front doors, I stopped and opened my bag to dig my phone out, but it wasn’t in the pocket I usually kept it in. I flipped through each section, wondering if I’d misplaced it. Being so nervous before my interview would be the only explanation for it not being exactly where it always was, considering everything always had a place, and I didn’t deviate from it.

I’d just unzipped the middle section when a wall clipped my shoulder and sent my bag flying off my arm onto the floor, all my belongings scattering out like water from a tipped-over glass.

“Shit,” a deep voice said at the same time I did.

I jerked my head up, ready to lay into this asshole when my eyes locked with the most beautiful hazel eyes I’d ever seen. The light streamed in through the lobby and hit them just right to illuminate all the shades of brown and green mixing together.

“I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”

My gaze dropped from his eyes, down the strong bridge of his nose to settle on his full lips.

“Jesus,” I said on an exhale. Dark stubble coated his jaw, and I clenched my hands to keep from reaching out and thumbing his plush bottom lip. I may have almost moaned when his tongue slicked out across the bottom before they began moving again.

“What was that?” he asked.

His hand gently rested on my shoulder, giving a soft squeeze. It swallowed my smaller frame, sending a heat that burned through my chest.

“Miss?” He spoke again and finally pulled me out of my trance.

Blinking and shaking my head, I reprimanded myself for becoming a woman who damn near melted into a pile of goo over some facial features.

“I’m sorry. Yes. You…you…” I looked down at the papers, pens, wallet, and other essentials scattered across the tile floor and collected myself. “Dammit,” I muttered, dropping to my knees to collect everything.

“Here, let me help,” he offered, dropping down next to me. I watched as he grabbed one of my small pouches, grateful I kept all my feminine products and condoms in there. Otherwise, they’d be scattered right next to everything else.

He held the black pouch between his long fingers and offered it back to me. Taking a few discreet deep breaths, I finally found the courage to really look up and see the man who sent me from angry to a puddle in point two seconds.

His large body crouched next to mine, and as soon as my eyes met his again, familiarity hit me, forcing my heart to flutter a little harder in my chest.

The man from the restaurant. The one Raelynn said I should offer a night to.

What were the odds?

Was it a sign?

“It’s you,” he said, his eyes scanning my features.

Like a record scratching, his words stopped my fantasies of fate with confusion. “What?”

“Sorry,” he said with a laugh. He shook his head and looked down, running his hand through his hair. When he looked up again, his lips tipped, stretching his cheeks over sharp cheekbones, resting underneath glassy eyes. “I saw you at the restaurant the other night.”

Biting my lip, I tried to hold back my smile from growing too big. This man oozed sophistication, and I didn’t want to come off as a giddy little girl. “You did?”

“You and your friend were hard to miss.”

Did he mean Raelynn? Or me? Did he mean we were hard to miss because Raelynn owned a room and could get loud? Or did he really notice me? “We may have noticed you, too,” I admitted, feeling bold.

He studied me a moment longer before grabbing the last of my papers and passing them over. We both stood, and he shoved his hands into his pockets. His shoulders pulled wide, and I guessed I was lucky he only clipped my shoulder. He could have taken me down completely with his size if he really bumped into me.

“I’m sorry I knocked into you,” he apologized again. “I was looking at my phone.”

His smile faded to a firm pout, but his eyes still twinkled. Usually, that would’ve been my moment to smile and walk away.

But I didn’t want to.

Maybe it was the confidence of crushing the interview. Maybe it was Raelynn’s voice in my head, reminding me to have some before I was sold off. Maybe it was something about this alluring man and the power he exuded that called to me—challenged me—to handle him.

I didn’t know what the reason was, but it pushed me to throw caution to the wind and flirt with him—to see where it went.

“Responding to a girlfriend?” I asked, relaxing my posture, letting him see some of the desire brewing.

His head tipped to the side, his eyes narrowing, and I feared I went too far. Despite the embarrassed flush fighting its way into my cheeks, I held it back and stood strong. He flirted with me first.


Tags: Fiona Cole Blame it on the Alcohol Romance