Taking Chances (BYC #3)

2. Lennox

2

LENNOX

T he little firecracker is laughing by herself as I get back to the booth, and I have a hard time looking away. Her skin is flushed underneath a sprinkle of freckles, her mascara is slightly smeared around her deep green eyes, and her lips are plump and pink. She’s sweet and uncorrupted and so unlike the women I typically spend my time with.

But still, I stay.

“What’s so funny?” I ask, draping my jacket over the booth. Her gin and tonic is extra skinny, courtesy of me slipping some cash to the bartender. She should probably be cut off, but I want to hear what pops out of her mouth next.

Her face scrunches and a few strands of copper hair fall over her eyes. “Hmm, I actually forgot what I was laughing about.” My hands itch to put her hair behind her ear, but I plop them firmly on the table. “You don’t look familiar.” Her brows lower again as she focuses on my face. Before I can respond, a wild hand reaches over the table and pulls off my beanie. “Oh,” she says, her mouth dropping.

“Is there a problem?” I smirk, taking a sip of my beer.

“You’re blond,” she responds, half disgusted.

“Let me guess, you don’t like blond guys.”

“Women typically don’t.”

A laugh escapes me. She’s so unexpectedly refreshing. “I heard. It’s why I got the tattoos.” I look down at my full sleeves now on display. She sizes me up, the fire of her hair reflecting in her eyes for a split second.

“They help, I guess.” Once more, I can’t help but chuckle. “But you were so close to being a perfect sample of the men in my books.”

“Yeah? And what kind of men are those?”

“You know.” She waves her hand. “Tall, dark, tattooed bad boys with nine-inch wieners.” Her hand clamps on her mouth as soon as the words come out.

I roar with laughter. “What kind of books do you read, Firecracker?”

A flush creeps up her ample, though mostly hidden, cleavage up to the tops of her cheeks. I wonder what other body parts could take on that gorgeous color.

“Doesn’t matter. Those men are definitely only fictional.”

“You sure about that? I, for one, check every box except the dark one.” I wink and her face turns an even deeper shade of red. Her tongue darts out and licks her lips, a stark contrast from the shyness in her cheeks. Something stirs inside my jeans.

She snaps out of the trance. “What I was saying is you don’t look familiar. Do you come here often?”

“First time. I’m kind of new in town and a friend recommended this place.”

“Smart friend. This place is awesome.”

I agree. Never have I seen the bartenders and servers so involved in keeping their clients safe. I also like the industrial style with mismatched tables and chairs and repurposed pipes and lightbulbs as decorations. She downs the rest of her glass quicker than I expected.

“My treat this time.” She gets up to make her way to the bar, but she sways on her feet.

“I don’t think so, Firecracker. I think it would be safer to get you home now.”

“Sorry, I never go home with someone on a first date,” she states with utter confidence, as if we’re on an actual date and we haven’t even introduced ourselves.

“Don’t worry, I’ll call you an Uber,” I say. The thought of taking her home hasn’t even crossed my mind. She’s undoubtedly attractive in a sweet, innocent type of way. And I don’t do innocent.

“Oh. Fine, then. Just got to use the bathroom.”

She gets back and her Uber pulls up. I slip the driver a few bills to walk her to her door and text me she’s home safe.

Getting on the bike, I head to my new place. As far as first nights in new cities go, this one was pretty interesting.