Chapter Four #2
I feel the eyes of the entire table staring me down, but at least this way, I won’t have an audience when I make a fool of myself.
I get the impression that the rest of the bar is watching me, too, as I make my way up to where Chrissy is standing off to the side of the register. But that could be my imagination.
She sees me approaching in the mirror and faces me with a sheepish grin. “Hey, Ethan,” she says, brushing her hair behind her ear. I can see the pink flush across her cheeks, which makes me feel slightly better about doing this.
Standing right in front of me, she has to tilt her head up to look at my face. She barely reaches my chest, but I have a very distinct angle of her cleavage from my vantage point. It takes all of my self-restraint not to stare at it. I smile back and keep my eyes on her face.
“Hey, Chrissy.” I hold out the empty glass. “Can I get another one?”
“Sure thing, hon,” she replies quickly, taking it from my hand and walking over the few steps behind the bar.
I move in front of her on the other side of the counter and wait, leaning forward while I watch her work.
Her eyes flick up to a point behind me, presumably at the guys sitting at the table, and suddenly, her cheeks go even redder.
A glance through the mirror behind the bar shows me they’re all snickering with their heads together.
“Oh, those bastards.” Chrissy gasps. She misses as the beer fills the glass, pouring over the top. “They told you, didn’t they?”
“Told me what?” I ask coyly, but I can’t keep the smirk off my face when her eyes widen like she’s given herself away. She groans, passing the overfull beer to me as she rolls her eyes, but at least she’s smiling again.
“Ethan Carlson, you’re unbelievable.”
“Apparently, I’m also tragically single.” I chuckle. “So, I’m just as much a victim in this as you.”
“Well, what are we supposed to do then?” Chrissy smirks, shaking her head.
“In the interest of friendship, I’d like to leave that up to you.” I frown. “I’d hate to lose it if something goes wrong.”
Chrissy smiles again, and there’s a knowingness behind it.
She nods her head. “Well, friend. Would you care to take me out on a date? No pressure, no commitments. Let’s see where the night takes us.
If we ultimately decide we’d be a tragic match, we’ll part ways with no harm done, and we'll stay friends.”
“Deal.”
Chrissy bites her lower lip and leans forward, emphasizing how her tight shirt pulls against her chest, and my eyes instantly track the movement. I am but a simple man.
“I’m free Monday,” she says.
I grin. “All right. Monday it is. I’ll pick you up after I get off work?”
Chrissy nods, her face lighting up. She’s bouncy as she pulls a napkin out from behind the counter, snagging a pen from her apron. After writing her number down, she passes it to me.
“Text me, and we’ll go over the details,” she says, placing her hand over mine with a playful wink.
I can’t help but smile, taking the napkin and sticking it in my pocket. As she moves away to help one of the other patrons, she’s genuinely excited, like a ball full of sugar and sunshine, and it warms my heart to think I had something to do with that.
My eyes linger on her as I pick up the beer and turn toward my table.
In my distraction, I don’t notice the person walking past me until it’s too late, and I suddenly collide with them. The result is catastrophic.
The beer slips out of my hand and pours directly onto the person I smash into, drenching them across the front.
The fallen glass crashes to the floor, breaking into a million pieces, and the whole bar goes dead silent.
I’m mortified, frozen like a statue as I stare at the destruction on the floor, so it takes me a second to look up and see who I’ve just assaulted.
But when I do, I throw out a whole string of curses at my bad luck.
“Do I need to worry if this was a hate crime?” Luke asks, standing with his arms out to his sides, staring down at his dripping wet shirt.
I gape at him, dumbfounded, before my brain kicks into gear, and I realize I need to help him. I reach for some napkins from behind the bar, then I start dabbing at his shirt as if there’s any chance in hell that this will work.
It doesn’t even register that I’m basically groping his chest until Luke suddenly grabs my wrist to stop me and forcefully yanks it away from him, holding it out to the side.
With his touch, lightning zips up my whole arm, and my brain goes numb.
The only thing I can think is that his grip is dangerously firm, and I notice how long and slender his fingers are as they wrap all the way around my wrist. His hand is very warm, too.
My heart starts racing, catching my breath in a way that makes me think I might actually be having a heart attack.
Luke is frowning but not looking at me. He eventually releases my wrist, holding his hand out for the napkins. I pass them over, feeling a little foolish.
“Luke, I’m so sorry,” I mumble sheepishly.
Luke shushes me with a hand as he works on his shirt. When I try to apologize again, he gives me a little ‘Mn’ sound, this time looking me dead in the eye. I can tell how pissed he is, but there’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes as well. Seeing it somehow helps me calm down.
“Ethan, honey, are you all right?” Chrissy comes up behind me. Luke scoffs and glares down at her like he’s the one she should be asking, and I can’t help but want to agree.
“It’s okay.” I wince. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. Do you have something I can clean this up with?”
Chrissy nods and brings me a rag, broom, and dustpan, and I bend down to start cleaning up the shards of glass and beer from the floor.
It only takes me a few minutes, but when I’m done, Luke is still standing there, although he’s given up trying to dry his shirt.
He’s staring at me strangely, too, but I have no idea what he’s thinking.
“Can I buy your drink or something to make up for it?” I ask meekly, rubbing a hand along my jaw.
“No.” Luke smirks, his eyes flashing wickedly. “But you can take me to dinner.”
I’m so taken aback that my jaw literally drops. Heat creeps up my face, and I know my cheeks are probably bright red. Luke’s smile grows, and he bursts out laughing. It’s so guttural and genuine, and I think I’m feeling lightheaded from all the beer because it just sounds so enchanting to hear.
“Jesus, Ethan.” Luke doubles over. “I’m just fucking with you, man. Wow, you’re so easy to rile up. I’m good, okay? It’s only a shirt. I’ll live, I promise.”
“You’re such a dick,” I groan, dragging a hand down my face, but I’m laughing too.
“I’m not the one who poured my beer on you.” He huffs a laugh, arching a single brow.
“It was an accident! Look, I’ve got a clean shirt in my truck you can borrow, so you don’t have to sit in a wet one all night, okay? Then we’ll be even.”
Luke smirks. “Okay, now I will take you up on that.”
Glancing back at the guys, I find all three of them watching this spectacle with undivided attention. But the moment I catch them, they snap back toward the middle of the table and fail to look like they are doing anything natural.
“I’ll be right back,” I shout their way, rolling my eyes. Marcus waves a hand, so at least I know they heard me.
Outside, I’m happy to see it’s finally stopped raining. The ground is still wet, and the damp pavement smells fantastic. I can’t help but take a deep breath, sighing contentedly as we head to the truck.
I keep a duffel bag in my backseat with a few days' worth of clothes, mostly so I have something to change into if I’m ever stranded or need to take an unexpected trip. Thankfully, I recently restocked it, so I pull out a plain white T-shirt and hand it over to Luke.
“Should I be concerned that you’re so well prepared for this situation?” He chuckles. Before I can respond, he pulls his drenched shirt up over his head, and I’m wholly unprepared for that.
I already knew Luke was fit by the way his clothes sat on him, but my god.
His chest is perfectly smooth, with only the faintest trail of dark blond hair dipping beneath the waistline of his jeans.
His pecs are firm and well-defined, and he’s got abs for days.
But it’s not overbearing or intense. It looks natural, like he was graced with the body of a demigod instead of a mortal man.
He's even got the creases along his hips that are every man’s personal wet dream.
It's unfair to look at, and I don’t know why my heart is suddenly racing.
My eyes unwittingly travel down his bare torso, catching the matching tattoos on his stomach, nestled right above his hip bones, and I stop being able to form coherent thoughts.
They’re black-inked sparrows in mid-flight, mirror-imaged from one side to the other and tilted at a downward angle to follow the natural V.
My eyes are glued to them, and somehow, I’ve forgotten that I’m supposed to breathe.
Something is clearly wrong with me, and I’m unsure what it means or how to handle it.
When Luke slips my shirt over his head, letting it drop to cover his torso's utterly disgusting perfection, I realize rather abruptly that I’m all-out staring at him and have to force myself to turn away.
Hopefully, he didn’t notice, but I swallow hard and run a shaking hand through my hair a few times as I close the back door to my truck, trying to regain some semblance of composure.
Maybe I’ve had too much to drink because my face is suddenly hot, and I’m a little dizzy.
At this rate, I should probably drink a gallon of water before I attempt to drive home.
“I feel like a toddler in this,” Luke whines from behind me.