Yours for the Night

Chapter 1

Chapter One

I’m self-aware enough to admit I’m a real bitch when it’s been too long since I last got laid.

It also doesn’t help that I started thinking about them the second I crossed the state line, and it makes my skin itch.

Even though my family’s lake house is about an hour away from my hometown, it’s far too close to the two people I never want to have the misfortune of ever bumping into again.

So while I should’ve driven straight to my parents’ lake house from the airport, I instead pulled into the parking lot of my favorite bar.

I swipe left on a girl who I’ve hooked up with once before but definitely never will again. Right on a gorgeous tattooed woman. No match. I sigh.

“Another one, Lily?” Manny asks, and I nod.

Manny is the owner of the Broken Tavern, a six foot three boulder of a man with dark brown skin. He’s a cuddly bear deep down, unless you’re a rowdy asshole he has to toss out of his bar. He served me my first legal drink seven years ago, and he’s one of my favorite people here.

“How long you in town for?” Manny asks as he pours me a Blue Moon on tap.

“Ten days.”

His eyebrows lift in a show of shock. He tosses a fresh square napkin on the chipped wooden bar top and sets down my glass.

“I know,” I say and take a sip. I haven’t spent this long with my family since the summer after high school graduation.

As excited as I am to spend the holidays with them, I can already hear my mom chirping away about wanting to set me up.

She tries to make it sound sweet and innocent, but it’s all an elaborate trap to convince me to fall in love and move back to Michigan.

Like fuck I’d ever move back here.

Manny drifts to the end of the bar to serve the couple who just walked through the door. It’s a slow night with only a few seats taken. Christmas lights are strung around the bar, and there’s a stocking for each employee hanging behind the bar. I smile at it. Total softie.

As I continue swiping along, I worry I’m going to run out of options. It was a mistake not finding a one-night stand while I was still at home in Cali. My thumb hesitates as I stare at the beautiful woman on my phone screen.

Harlow, 31. I open her profile and scroll through her photos.

She has long, silky black hair that’s pulled up into a clean topknot in every photo.

She only has three and each one looks like it was taken in a different state.

One with her in front of the Grand Canyon—an easy smile on her face and a golden retriever sitting at her feet, tongue flopped out their mouth.

One photo is taken from behind as she stares off into the sunset—the angle highlights her strong jawline.

She’s sitting in the open trunk of a van, and the same dog is lying beside her, head in Harlow’s lap.

And the final photo is Harlow at the beach.

She’s in a loose gray tank top and black board shorts with little palm trees.

She’s throwing a frisbee in the direction of the waves, and her dog is captured mid sprint, chasing after it.

Harlow is tall, curvy, and damn, does she have a great ass.

I swipe right and hold my breath for the shortest of seconds until relief floods my veins as “It’s A Match!” pops up on the screen. I don’t hesitate to message her.

Lily:

You have the cutest pup

Harlow:

Thanks!!

Harlow’s typing.

Harlow:

She’s even cuter in person

I smirk at her words, the invitation threaded within them.

I make it clear in my bio that I’m constantly on the go for work.

As a pilot who has my eyes set on making captain, to say I travel a lot is an understatement.

I’m never in the same city for long, and that includes the one I get my mail delivered to.

So I’m on the app for one thing and one thing only, and it’s definitely not to fall in love—much to my mother’s dismay.

Lily:

Oh really? I’d love to find that out for myself

Harlow:

What’re you doing tonight?

Lily:

Meeting the cutest dog ever in person. Obviously

Harlow:

Obviously

I smile and take a pull from my drink.

Lily:

I’m at the Broken Tavern rn

Harlow:

Oh shit we just walked past there. I’m out taking Daisy for her final walk of the night.

Lily:

Omg perfect. Come have a drink with me

Harlow’s typing.

Harlow:

Idk do you think they’re okay with dogs inside?

Lily:

Are you kidding? Manny keeps a jar of treats behind the counter

Harlow:

Lol okay. Give me five minutes.

I relax back in my seat with a cheeky smirk.

Who said sapphics can’t get lucky in a small town?

It may have been a line, but Harlow wasn’t kidding—her dog, Daisy, is even cuter in person. Fluffy golden fur, a tongue that flops adorably out of her mouth, she is a wrecking ball of rambunctious energy as she preens under my attention.

“Oh, my goodness,” I croon while taking Daisy’s face in my hands. “You are the cutest. Yes, you are.”

Daisy’s tail thumps loudly against the wood floor, and she spins around excitedly before launching her side into me.

Since I had hopped off my bar stool and crouched down to greet her, her unexpected weight throws me off balance.

I crash backward onto my ass, and Daisy takes it as an invitation, jumping into my lap and licking my face.

“Daisy!” Harlow drags her dog back by her floral collar and curses. “I’m so sorry. She’s normally much better behaved than this.”

She scolds her dog again, but I’m laughing. “Don’t apologize. She’s perfect.” I push myself to my feet and wipe my hands off on my jeans.

Harlow, likewise, looks better in person—and she looked pretty damn good in her photos.

She’s dressed warm and cozy for a chilly evening walk in black sweatpants and a dark hoodie under a winter coat that is lightly dusted with snowflakes.

She shrugs off her coat as I discreetly hold up a treat I snagged from Manny.

“May I?” I ask.

She chuckles. “You really weren’t joking about them keeping treats behind the counter?”

Daisy’s ears perk up at the magic word, and her tail wags excitedly.

“I’d never joke about this,” I say with utmost sincerity.

“Daisy, sit.” Harlow looks at me with a smile. “Go ahead.”

Daisy’s butt wiggles so hard she’s struggling to remain seated, so I don’t make her wait any longer. Then I get in another couple pets, further cooing over her, before Harlow has her lie down at our feet and we take our seats. After Manny grabs our order, Harlow asks, “Do you have any dogs?”

“Ugh, I wish,” I say. “I love them so much, and I had a miniature dachshund growing up, but there’s no way I could have one with my schedule.”

“Oh, yeah. You’re a pilot, right?”

“I am!”

“That’s so cool.” She thanks Manny, who sets a whiskey sour in front of her. She takes a sip and turns toward me, her knee grazes mine, and she leaves it there.

“I love it,” I say. “I’ve always wanted to explore and travel the world, so what better job than a pilot, right?

Well, it turns out, more often than I’d like, the only places I’m exploring are airports and hotel rooms. But it’s okay.

I fell in love with what I do, and when my schedule allows, I still get to see so many new places. ”

“Oh, no shit? I love to travel too.”

“Yeah?” I brighten.

She nods. “I recently traveled the country in my van for two years.”

“Holy shit. That sounds amazing!” I gasp, and in my excitement, I reach out and grab her arm. “Tell me everything. I’m so jealous.”

Harlow chuckles. Her gaze almost imperceptibly drops to where I’m still touching her forearm. I almost pull away, but at the last second, decide against it. We both know what we’re looking for after we finish our drinks, why be subtle?

“It was incredible,” Harlow says and launches into sharing all the places she went.

She’s a little light on details, only giving me the highlights, but I’m hungry for more.

None of my friends or family are into traveling like I am, so, aside from the occasional vacation, I do most of my exploring solo, and I never get to talk to anyone whose eyes light up with passion as we discuss our destination bucket list like Harlow’s.

“Wait,” she cuts herself off mid story. “Do you like crab legs?”

“Duh.”

She smiles. “Have you been to Baltimore?”

“Not yet.”

She gasps dramatically, and I laugh.

“It’s on my list!” I insist while she pretends to clutch her pearls in offense. “Stop.” I squeeze her knee and leave my hand there after she drops the fake outrage and grins.

“You have to go and pick your own crab at a crab feast,” she says. “Their blue crab is so damn delicious it won’t compare anywhere else.”

“I’ll definitely plan a trip soon,” I promise.

“You know, it’s funny you mention that. I’m flying to St. Pete in two weeks, and I have a forty-eight-hour layover.

I can’t wait for warmer weather and to try this little hole-in-the-wall seafood place that everyone swears has the best crab legs in the state. ”

“What? You mean you’re not loving all this snow?”

I snort. “Definitely not. I hate wearing so many layers. I’ll take bikinis over winter coats every day of the week.”

“I have to agree with you there,” Harlow admits, and she holds my gaze. “Especially if you’re the one in the bikini.”

Something heated passes between us as the air shifts. I become hyperaware of the way our legs have been connected all night, my hand still on her warm knee.

“How long are you in town for?” Harlow asks.

“Not long.”

She nods once before downing the last of her drink. She sets the glass on the bartop and drops her hand to my thigh.

“How about you?” I ask.

“I’m not sure,” she says as she strokes her fingers up and down the top of my leg. I subtly shift them further apart, and her hand takes the invitation. She teases the inside of my thigh, and the touch sends a tingle across my skin.