“Oh, um…”
“Oysters,” I said, willing to spare Paul’s cousin a possible slow and merciless death. He was pretty sleazy, but harmless enough, especially with Mr. Bond beside me. Mr. Bond somehow made me feel protected, sheltered and safe from any of Bob/Bill’s less honorable intentions. He made me feel…feminine in comparison to his ultra-masculine presence.
I darted a brief glance again at Paul across the room. He winked at me, then was pulled back into a conversation. He had sent this guy over to save me from Bob/Bill.
“Oysters? That’s fascinating.” From Mr. Bond’s tone, it didn’t sound as if it was. “You don’t look too good.” He gestured with his chin at Bob/Bill who now had beads of sweat dotting his brow to go along with the off pallor. “Ready?” he asked me, his eyes raking over my face.
Without waiting for me to answer, he took my hand and all but dismissed Bob/Bill. His hand was so big mine was all but swallowed up. His touch was gentle, which was surprising for a man who seemed so…aggressive, as if the calm exterior was just a façade and he had tension and energy coiled and ready to be unleashed, especially when aimed at a man who was bothering me. I could feel rough callouses on his palm and when his thumb brushed back and forth over the back of my hand, a chill went down my spine.
Ready? To go off with Mr. Bond? Mmm, yeah. I nodded, then turned to Bob/Bill. “Guess you should’ve followed the rules and skipped the oysters.” Or skipped propositioning me and demeaning my job. I faked a smile and let Mr. Bond lead me away. Everyone seemed to be looking at us, at him, for he had the bearing and presence that screamed Get out of my fucking way.
I placed my glass on an empty high top as we walked by. Mr. Bond let go of my hand—he had a drink in his other one—to push open the door to the outside deck and held it for me. The patio area wrapped around three sides of the building, although windows only flanked the wall that faced the water.
The air was balmy and humid, a striking contrast to the air-conditioned interior. Now I was overheated for an entirely different reason. The noise of the restaurant and bar was muffled. The sun was setting, the sky thick and hazy with the heat, yet a beautiful mixture of pink and orange. The lights of the buildings on the harbor were coming on, setting the water to sparkle even more.
Couples and small groups chatted by the railing and around small arrangements of chairs, so he pointed with his drink-filled hand around the corner. There, it was
quiet, and I moved to sit in one of two chairs that looked out over the harbor. Small boats cut through the water and in the distance, tourists rode in simple paddle boats shaped like swans.
Since Christy was in love, she wanted everyone around her to have the same, but guys like Bob/Bill weren’t making me eager to change my Facebook status to In A Relationship. Regardless, she and Paul had tried to get me back out there now that Chris was away at college, but using this guy—holy hell. My life had been about raising Chris for so long, I didn’t know how to be just me, the woman, not the mom. And now, it was just me and this insanely good looking guy and I didn’t know what to do! It was one thing to talk to Bob/Bill, but I was flustered and tongue tied and overwhelmed by this man.
“Would you mind if I sit with you?” His voice was deep, cool and calm, patient.
My heart did that whole leap-into-my-throat thing as I looked up at him. Only a few feet away, he appeared a tad dangerous. His nose had been broken. I’d been right about that. There was also a scar that sliced through his left eyebrow, the whiteness of it a stark contrast to the dark hair. He smiled and waited.
“Oh, um. Sure.”
Gripping the back of the chair and leaning in, he asked, “You don’t seem so sure.”
“I…I just wondered why,” I replied, sheepishly. My insecurities were showing. While I felt confident in myself, when it came to men like him and the blatant selection of younger and more nubile women at the bar, I felt lacking. With me safely away from Oyster Man, Mr. Bond could return to the bar, his chivalry accomplished for the night. I could take my grandmother’s advice and find a nice man at church, but that wasn’t my angle either.
He frowned and a little crease formed in his brow. “Why?”
“Why you want to stay here with me.” I pointed in the direction of the bar. “I’ll tell Paul you saved me. You’re off the hook.”
He sat then, leaning forward so his forearms rested on his thighs. All of his attention was once again squarely on me. “Maybe I don’t want to be off the hook.”
Oh. I couldn’t look away, couldn’t do anything but realize he wanted to sit with me and I felt something shift inside. “Oh.”
He looked down. “I brought you another drink.”
He held a highball glass, filled with an icy concoction with two lime wedges floating on top. “Thanks, but I was drinking—”
“Water,” he cut in, finishing my sentence. His dark eyes once again watched me closely, calmly. It was as if he could shut out all the other patrons of the restaurant, the noise of dishes being stacked, even the subtle music, and give me every ounce of his attention.
“Yes,” I admitted, my eyes widening. How did he— “You’ve been watching me.”
Paul gave this guy his seal of approval, but everyone who heard their neighbor was an axe murderer swore they had no idea. I didn’t see an axe, although there was no question by his solid, hard, amazing body he could hurt someone without one. I felt wary and nervous, now in a completely different way. I didn’t want him to be a creep.
He leaned back in his chair and held up his hands in front of him. “Oh, hey, I don’t want to see that pretty smile go away. Don’t worry, I’m not trying to pick you up.”
My spine stiffened and I felt my cheeks heat. “Of course not.” Why would he waste his time picking me up when there was the bevy of easy women inside? Surely, he just needed to crook a finger and they’d come to him panting. He was…really, really attractive. Intense. Bob/Bill was pretty handsome and he was a creep. This guy was more. He had presence. Confidence. He dripped testosterone from his pores and the way I was practically panting over him, pheromones as well. He wasn’t working it here—he didn’t have to. He just…was.
He grinned, and that changed his entire demeanor. Relaxed by my sarcasm, he leaned back in his chair, elbows on the armrests. I, on the other hand, sat ramrod straight and ready to bolt.
“Shit, that was really bad, wasn’t it?” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck as he winced. “Insulting. I have to admit, you make me a little nervous.”
“Me?” Both my eyebrows went up then. “I make you nervous? You’re so far out of my league,” I admitted with a frown. Now he’d leave.