3. Loren
3
LOREN
T he only nightlife Hamming had was the local bar on Main Street. It had a jukebox that seemed to be possessed, kicking on to play Thriller at random times. The beer was cheap and the food was greasy. It was basic and low-key, but that was what a small town like Hamming needed and wanted.
Not like what I found here.
I quickly learned that the nightlife in New York was much more intense. And just as quickly, I became aware of how sheltered I really was. I hated that Becca was right about me, but there was no denying how out of my comfort zone I was here. I wasn’t much of a partier, but damn, everything was just so… intense.
Did people not smile anymore? Was I supposed to be this rigid and not dare to make eye contact—with anyone? Was being polite frowned upon?
My first attempt at ordering a drink somehow offended the bartender at the first bar, because I was too slow to make up my mind on the tap choice. I gave up and tried another bar down the street. At this one, a businesswoman in a power suit knocked her wine glass on me and didn’t apologize, claiming it was my fault for selecting the vacant stool next to her. Her sneer seared me.
If I couldn’t manage to order a damn drink here, at the third place, I’d strike out and give myself a raincheck.
Maybe it was a mistake to go out at all without Hailey.
Being in a bar alone was awkward, but I tried not to let the glances bother me. No one knew me here. They couldn’t possibly have any prejudices or biases already in mind. I was a stranger. One among many. And I could fit in. I wasn’t “Becca’s younger sister” here. I was me. Loren. Ready to toast to myself for taking the huge step of moving out.
I can do this.
Yet, as I sat at the bar and waited for one of the two harried-looking bartenders to notice me, I wondered if I looked like a sore thumb sticking out as much as I felt like one.
I glanced at my denim shorts and simple emerald T-shirt. Becca always hated when I wore green because it made my eyes pop. She would get jealous over any little thing, including the fact she was the only one in the family born with dull, brown eyes. Many people commented about how bright my eyes were, but no one wanted to look me in the face here, seemingly casting me as an outsider they didn’t have time for.
I wasn’t as dressy as everyone else, and I wondered if this was how women dressed all the time. Classy and put together. Runway ready.
Stop comparing yourself.
Regardless, I tucked my hair behind my ear and sighed.
Maybe I should just go back to the apartment and ? —
“Hey there, sexy,” a man said, easing up close to me. Too close. He knocked against my shoulder, hard, as if he was too drunk to stand and needed to collapse on me as a buffer on his way to the floor.
“Damn, you’re short.” He hiccupped, smiling goofily, before bringing his drink to his lips. “Sexy, short stuff.”
Like I hadn’t heard that before.
Well, not the sexy part.
“Um. Hi,” I replied, trying to retreat a step. He was in my space, bringing his beer breath in my face. Even worse, the rank odor of cigarette smoke wafted off his shirt to dirty me. The urge to gag built up within me.
“Hey, no. Don’t go.” He grabbed hold of my wrist, surprisingly strong with his grip. He was drunk, but with power.
Panic washed over me. Never before had I dealt with a handsy, drunk stranger. Partly because I never saw strangers. Back home, everyone knew everyone else. No one in Hamming would ever grab a woman’s hand like this. Or if they did, I knew who it was and could mostly guess at their intentions.
My naivety had never been so clear. I was clueless how to get out of this situation, too nice to ever cause a scene. I wasn’t built tough like that business woman who sneered at me. I lacked the gumption to tell this man off like the bartender who ranted at me in the first bar.
Sure, I took a self-defense class at the YMCA back home, but none of what I learned that day came back to me now.
Instinct had me flinching and cringing, trying to free my hand. Shit. He wouldn’t release me. His fingers dug into my flesh. I was trapped, and a need to survive and run away took over as he stared me up and down. His sleazy gaze lingered on my breasts, and I resisted a pathetic whimper.
My God. What the hell have I gotten myself into?
“Please let me go.”
He laughed, snickering immaturely. “Oh. So polite, too.” He yanked on my arm, hauling me close. “I’m going to?—”
“No.” That still worked in a big city, didn’t it? No meant no , but maybe that was an urban legend outside of small towns.
I didn’t want to hear what he planned. I wanted nothing to do with him. “No. Let me go.” I tugged hard, desperate to get out of his grip. I just wanted one drink to celebrate, and here, all I’d found was trouble.
Nothing gave way. His fingers remained locked on me like manacles.
I had no business thinking I could handle going out on my own, without any backup. I hadn’t even told Hailey where I was, so if this jerk was going to drag me off somewhere, no one would ever find out what happened to me.
Paranoia set in. Worst-case scenarios flooded my mind, and I pushed at his arm, trying to pry his fingers off mine.
“Let me—” I grunted, surprised when a man stepped between us. He was tall, and even the push of his side against my arm showed how muscled and hard he was. Cursed with my shortness, I always had to look up to face people, but this guy was almost a head taller than the pervy drunk who’d targeted me.
“There you are.” His deep voice was firm and full of command, suggesting not many argued back and lived to tell the tale. “I was looking for you.”
That was a lie, but I didn’t correct him. Wedging up close like this had broken that man’s hold on me. And with tall, dark, and handsome not budging from the slight space between the stools, he was a bulwark, a wall of defense.
The drunk protested, trying to see me around the taller stranger with the darkest blue eyes I’d ever seen. “Hey, man, I was just?—”
“You were just harassing my date,” the stranger stated. He almost sounded bored, dully reporting a grievance that he didn’t have patience for.
“Your what? No, man. She was standing here all alone. She ain’t with anyone.”
I swallowed quickly, my mouth suddenly so dry with the panic. This sexy man wasn’t waiting for me. I wasn’t his date. There was no way he could even know who I was, but I wasn’t that damn slow to catch on.
I had no way to explain it, but I just knew he wasn’t another creep, preying on me. He—whoever the hell he was and wherever he’d come from—was here to help me.
Unbelievably, there were some good people out there in the world yet.
“Yeah.” I forced another swallow and cleared my throat before trying to speak up loud enough again. “Yeah.” I grabbed the stranger’s hand. “I’m with him.”
Nervousness battled with fear. I waited for this new guy to flick my hand away, not welcoming my touch. We were strangers, and perhaps I was taking this a little too far. To my shock, he didn’t recoil or smirk at me. Instead, he turned so he could tuck me against his side, draping his free arm around my shoulders. It was a territorial embrace, like he was making his claim on me.
And I was all for it.
The drunk rolled his eyes. “What the fuck?” He snorted before lifting his beer bottle to his lips. Once he realized it was already empty, he groaned and slammed it onto the bar top before walking away.
I froze, watching as the man sulked off. He was probably on his way to find another woman to prey upon, and I hated that he’d targeted me.
“Are you all right?” my savior asked. He slowly stepped aside from me, but he didn’t go too far. His body heat radiated to me, and with the spicy hint of his cologne, so clean and fresh, I was lured to want him back against me.
“Um…” I nodded, looking down at my arm where the drunk had grabbed me. “Yeah. Thank you.”
This man still held my fingers, and as we stood apart, he turned my hand so he could inspect the red marks on my flesh. “I was checking out my tab and noticed him bothering you. Sorry I wasn’t faster.”
“He came out of nowhere,” I admitted.
The stroke of his thumb on my skin teased me. A shiver coursed through me, and I wondered how he could invoke such pleasure with one little touch like this.
“Are you here alone?” he asked.
I nodded before I could think better of that reply. While it was stupid to let another man know I was by myself, I dismissed the worry that this guy was like the other one. I didn’t feel trapped or alarmed. Just… safe.
“I, um. I just wanted to get one drink for myself. To celebrate.” My hair fell forward, and as I lifted my face to gaze up into his blue eyes, I tucked my long, blonde hair back behind my ears.
“Oh?” He lightened up a bit. Calling his softer expression a smile was a stretch. But his lean facial features changed up into something like a smirk. Perhaps I’d amused him. Intrigued him, even. He didn’t look away, seeming stuck on searching my face for an answer to a riddle I didn’t know. “What are you celebrating?”
I smiled, feeling the start of a blush warming my cheeks. The impatient bartender had been trying to get his attention for a moment now, waving a card and an electronic payment device. I pointed, indicating for him to turn from me. “Your tab…”
He didn’t look away. Reaching toward the bar was the moment he seemed to realize he was still holding my hand. “Oh. I’m sorry.” He released me, looking down at my hand.
Me too. I mourned the loss of his touch. It grounded me somehow, and I mentally chastised myself for wishing this stranger could put his hand on me again. I hadn’t felt that primal, simple sort of comfort in… forever. Hell, I’d never felt that sort of electric spark before.
He kept his smoldering stare on me as he signed the screen with his fingertip without reading it.
The idea that he couldn’t look away from me was thrilling.
“What are you celebrating?”
Having his attention on me like this was getting to my head. He’d already wowed me with that Good Samaritan act of scaring off that other guy, pretending to be here with me. And the more I noticed about him, all the rugged strength his shirt and pants didn’t hide well from the strain on the seams, desire chased away the remnants of what I’d felt before.
I wasn’t second-guessing myself and doubting that I’d manage this night. I wasn’t worried about being abducted. Yet, I wasn’t sure how much to reveal about myself to a complete stranger.
“Changes,” I replied. It was true. I was adjusting to taking charge of my life for once, and I was doing so with many changes.
Now he smiled. A slow, sexy grin lifted his lips, and I was struck with the need to kiss him. To feel his mouth against mine.
“Changes.” He nodded, stepping closer to me. He wasn’t crowding me, but I wished he were. I couldn’t explain this instant draw, this immediate need to be flush with him and just let go. The taunting pressure to surrender to desire built, and I wondered how this could be happening.
I had no clue who this guy was, but we’d collided into a case of lust at first sight. I wasn’t an expert at reading men. I was clueless at best, but a man didn’t lick his lips and stare at a woman like that without something torrid and naughty in mind.
“I could toast to that. I’ve been ready for a change for a long time now.”
Closer and closer, he leaned in toward me. I gave in to the urge to reach up toward him, setting my hand on his chest for leverage. “Stuck in a rut?” I asked, noticing how breathy I sounded.
He nodded, placing his hand on my side to pull me toward him gently. “Yeah. But right now, I’m stuck on you, stranger.”
I smiled, aroused by his husky voice and the mesmerizing intensity in his eyes.
“What if you and I headed next door for your celebratory drink,” he asked, gazing at me like his life wouldn’t carry on until he had my reply, “and we can toast to changes together?”
I swallowed, overcome with so much desire I worried I was making a mistake to even consider his suggestion.
Was I getting out of one bad situation and jumping to another?
This simply wasn’t me. Strange, hot men didn’t come up to me and give me bedroom eyes. They didn’t ask me out for a drink. In all my life, I’d never been propositioned like this, but then again, that was in Hamming. The boring, closed-minded, small town.
This was here, in the city, and I knew he wasn’t only asking me for a drink. Next door was a hotel.
This man wanted to have sex. With me .
For the first time, I considered it. I'd never, ever thought about sleeping with a man before I had a chance to get to know him first.
But this was a new me. I had a new job. A new home. If I was going to reinvent myself and live a life I’d only ever dreamed of, I may as well go all in.
“I’d like that…” I said, frowning when I didn’t have a name to tack on the end.
“I’m—”
I hurried to put my hand over his mouth. “No.” I smiled. “No names. No details.” It seemed like a damn dream, encountering this man, and I didn’t want any reality to trickle in and ruin it.
I was going to have my first one-night stand with a stranger. It would be a memory to hold on to forever, and the more mystery I kept to it, the better.
He nodded, reaching up to hold my hand and kiss my palm. “All right. No names. No details,” he agreed.
My breath hitched at his warm lips on my palm. I couldn’t wait to feel them everywhere.
“Except this one,” he said, urging me to walk away from the bar with him. “What drink would you like to celebrate over?”
Hell, I didn’t need one now. I was already drunk on the thrill of knowing this man wanted me. Tempted to let loose and embrace the spontaneity that he inspired in me, I looked up at him and bit my lower lip. “I could think of another way to celebrate instead…”
His eyes turned dark as he held my hand. Squeezing my fingers tighter, like he couldn’t stand the thought of losing me in this crowd, he hurried me to exit with him.