Chapter 5 Jaw Dropping Brunette
Jaw dropping brunette
The sun’s still high, and the heat is pressing down like a goddamn anvil. Queensland humidity never lets up, not even in the late afternoon.
I wipe the sweat off my brow with the back of my hand, glancing up at the half-framed house we’ve been working on all week. Another long day under the sun. Another client who wants “just one more little change” that’ll take an extra three hours and throw off the whole timeline.
“Oi, Emerson!” Tyler’s voice cuts through the air. “You better not be ghosting tonight. You promised, remember?”
I sigh, “I didn’t promise. I said maybe.”
“Maybe sounds like a yes if you say it loud enough,” he grins, leaning on the railing with a nail gun still in hand. “Come on. It’s my birthday. You have to come.”
“You turning twenty-five doesn’t mean I have to suffer through bad beer and worse music.”
He snorts. “Mate, it’s The Tipsy Tap. It’s not that bad. They’ve got tapas now. And bartenders who look like actual angels, I swear.”
I roll my eyes but smirk despite myself. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll meet you there a bit later. I need to finish some things here, then I will head home to get ready, alright?”
He gives a mock cheer and heads back to finish nailing the timber down.
“Finish that bit off, then you can go mate.”
“Well, I won’t say no to that.” Tyler agrees.
After he leaves I take one last look at the job site—wood shavings everywhere, tools scattered like confetti, my to-do list still a mile long. I try to shake the tight knot that’s permanently lodged in my chest these days.
I don’t want to go out. But maybe I should. Maybe I need to remember what it feels like to be a person outside of work.
An hour later, I’m freshly showered, wearing a grey collared shirt and jeans, pulling into the carpark of the bar.
I’ve lived in Coevey Bay all my life and only came to The Tipsy Tap a few times, and that was years ago.
I walk inside, running my hands nervously along my jeans. I can’t believe Tyler convinced me to come out.
I’m only recently twenty-eight, but lately?
I feel about fifty. All I do is work or work out.
My business eats up every damn second of my time, and even when I do take a break, it’s usually just to clear my head, not to go drinking.
Tyler’s one of my contractors and currently crashing at my place while he renovates his.
He’s loud, fun, annoyingly optimistic, and dead set on dragging me “back into the real world,” as he puts it.
He seems to think my sex life is non-existent, so he’s always trying to wingman me into some random hookup at a bar.
He doesn’t get it, I get laid plenty. I just don’t broadcast it like he does. I keep that part of my life behind closed doors, exactly where it belongs. No drama. Just clean, simple release.
And after my ex cheated, relationships? Off the table. I don’t have the time for that. Not yet. Casual sex is safer. Easier. Enough.
The bar looks the same as the last time I came in here. Dark, moody vibe. Smells of leather and alcohol. There is a country song playing, and a massive selection of beers on tap. It’s got a kind of hipster feel, but not in a bad way. They even have tapas. Tapas, at a bar? Fancy.
I head over to the table where Tyler is surrounded by his friends and some of our other co-workers.
“You made it Emerson!” Tyler yells when he sees me, pulling me in a back slapping hug.
He turns us to his friends, introducing me to the ones I don’t know.
“This is Lucas.”
Theo and Renae from work are here, I give them a nod hello. Tyler goes through the motions of introducing me to the rest.
“G’day. I’m gonna head to the bar to get a feed and bevo. I’ll be back in a bit.”
Tyler nods and turns back to his conversation with his friends.
I grab a menu that was left scattered on the table, and start to make my way towards the bar—it’s packed. I wait in line, eyes still skimming the menu, not really paying attention. Until I hear a voice.
“Hey there, what would you like?” I look up. And completely forget how to speak.
Fuck. I’ve just met an angel.
She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life.
My pulse immediately starts to pick up.
I don’t have a type, but if I did, it would be her.
Blue-grey eyes. Soft, pouty pink lips. A tan that looks like summer lingers on her skin all year round, subtle and effortless. Dark brown hair hanging loosely in waves around her breasts. Tight denim corset top showing just enough cleavage to make my brain short-circuit.
What would I like? I want you.
My jaw actually drops. I snap it shut before she notices. Get a grip man.
Her angelic voice interrupts my thoughts.
“Um… Did you hear me? What did you want?” She asks politely, tilting her head and biting her bottom lip softly. Her eyes drifting over me.
Is she checking me out too?
I clear my throat, and wipe my suddenly sweaty palms on my jeans.
“Sorry. The oysters Kilpatrick. And, uh, the stuffed mushrooms.”
She looks into my eyes then quickly looks away, nodding. “Sure. Would you like a drink with that?”
Yes. I’d like to drink you…. Uh Lucas, don’t be a creep.
I remind myself to keep my eyes up and away from her very perky, very distracting chest and instead look into those stunning eyes. Blue, but also, not just blue?
“A rum, please. Whatever one you recommend.” She looks away nervously, fumbling with the register as she adds my order.
“Okay then. Umm… that’ll be $45. This is your buzzer.” She puts it down on the bar and tucks her soft hair behind her ear. “I’ll get your drink ready now.” She gives me a small smile, and spins around to make the drink.
My eyes are glued.
I’m a goner. Long legs. Curves in all the right places. And her ass? Damn. But it’s not just her body. There’s something else. Something that hits deeper and makes my chest ache. Like she’s some kind of answer to a question I didn’t realise I’ve been asking.
I don’t just want her. I want to know her. Need to.
I haven’t felt this drawn to a woman in… well forever.
I wasn’t looking for anything tonight. But I think I just found something I didn’t even know I needed.