Chapter 23
CHAPTER 23
THIS WOULD PROBABLY TASTE WAY BETTER ON YOU.
Blair
“Are you gonna sing a song?” Nan asks me while we dance.
I shake my head. “Oh no. I don’t need to embarrass myself.”
She waves a hand. “Nonsense. You can’t embarrass yourself here, girl. This is a place for us to be ourselves. Fun and full of life,” she says with her hands in the air as she closes her eyes and moves with the music.
This woman never ceases to surprise me.
She slows her dancing. “I’m goin’ up there. What should I sing?” she asks me.
My eyes widen. “Oh, I am not good at picking out songs.”
“Noted.” She nods. “I’ll just close my eyes and let these little fingers land on something. How fun does that sound?” she asks, full of mischief before leaving me to head to the table to put her song in.
Next thing I know, Lily is swaying her hips into mine from my side with a drunk smile on her face. “I love watching you have the time of your life, babe.”
She continues dancing next to me, my smile matching hers.
I’m so glad she convinced me to come out tonight. I wasn’t sure if I was going to come after having dinner last week with Griffin. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy myself, it was because the tension I felt walking back to my place followed me until I climbed into bed.
I hugged him goodbye.
My body moved on its own and I stayed there longer than I intended to. Only for him to return the hug and hold on as long as I did.
It made me want to look up into his eyes.
Beg him to kiss me.
I’ve replayed it in my head several times since while lying in bed.
Is that what I really want, though?
How have I gone from swearing off men and relationships, to wanting the angry cowboy next door to kiss me like his life depends on it? Wanting him to touch me in places I haven’t been touched in so long.
Out of the corner of my eye, my gaze lands on the weird man I saw at the General Store when I was buying my power washer. Once again, nerves swarm my gut because he’s got his eyes locked on me. Staring at me with such intensity that it almost knocks me off my feet.
“Hey, Lil?”
“Ya.”
“Don’t look now, but over your shoulder, like two o’clock, there’s a man staring at me. Do you know him?”
She casually does a search around the bar as if she’s looking for something before she looks where I guided her to look. To keep the act up, she keeps looking around for another second before shaking her head. “No, he looks like an out-of-towner. But I don’t blame him for having eyes on you. You look hot tonight.” She winks.
The scratch of the speakers draws our attention to the mini stage set up for the karaoke party. There’s a full black backdrop with twinkle lights cascading in rows down the middle along with multicolor strobe lights that rotate throughout the whole bar.
“Good evening, Bluestone Lakes,” she shouts into the microphone like she’s the main performer at Coachella. “It’s my turn to give this karaoke shit a try.”
The room laughs because they know her.
The music plays, and Lily and I still our dance moves, turning to look at each other with wide eyes.
“She did not,” Lily gasps.
Nan dons a pair of black sunglasses, putting one hand in the air and holding the microphone in front of her face. Clearly ready for the most epic performance of her life.
And then she sings. “ I’ve been drinking. I’ve been drinking. ”
“She did not choose ‘Drunk in Love’ to sing at a karaoke bar,” I say to Lily.
“She so did,” she replies, eyes on Nan as she sways her hips in a seductive motion on stage, bellowing every word into the microphone as if she’s the main character.
We watch fascinated as she gets into the moves. Using the whole stage as her platform to let everyone know that she’s “drunk in love” tonight, it seems.
Lily and I turn to each other and both of us curl over in laughter.
Neither of us can believe this is happening right now.
“I need another drink for the rest of this show,” I tell her.
“Go see Griffin.” She gestures to the bar. “He will take good care of you.”
I keep laughing, but it comes out more nervous. Because the idea of Griffin Barlow taking “good care of me” sends shivers down my spine.
And I’m not talking about him making me a drink.
I turn to head toward the bar and my eyes land directly on Griffin, who’s already looking at me. Poppy and Tucker are smiling and engaging in conversation.
But he’s not .
His eyes remain locked on mine in the fiercest way possible.
In a way that makes me feels like I’m the only one in the bar tonight.
And, damn, he looks so good tonight. I noticed when I first walked in, but it’s hitting me all over again right now. He’s wearing a baseball cap, shadowing his eyes. He ditched the flannel for the evening, only giving the entire bar a show of his abdominal muscles. And I say that because the solid black T-shirt he’s wearing hugs every ridge and curve of his body.
Making me want to trail my fingertips along?—
“One day he will smile again,” Lily says into my ear.
Little does she know, I’ve seen it. Just enough to tell me that there’s a heart somewhere deep inside of him.
Ordering an actual drink from him has me on edge. I don’t know if it’s because I can’t get my mind to stop thinking about him in very inappropriate ways, or because I want him to lean over the bar and kiss me, or because I need to keep my distance before I end up screwed and falling for the guy.
I see Tucker behind the bar and remember him from the day they rebuilt my deck.
I decide to head in his direction, hoping to avoid feeling awkward.
Tucker spots me as I step up to the counter, resting my forearms on the edge. He offers me a welcoming smile. “Hey there, City Chick. How’s the new deck holding up?”
“It’s great.” I laugh. “Thank you again. For, you know…helping and all.”
He raises a hand. “No thanks needed. Construction work is kind of my thing.”
“Good to know,” I answer before looking in Griffin’s direction to find him no longer looking my way.
It’s now my mission to get a smile out of Griffin while in public tonight.
“You’ll get used to him,” Tucker cuts through my thoughts. “He’s an acquired taste. ”
Just as I’m about to order a drink from Tucker, Autumn, and Poppy spot me and make their way to me with their drinks in hand. Autumn has some type of light beer in a glass, and Poppy is drinking ice water.
“So happy you could make it,” Autumn says at the same time she wraps her arms around me for a hug.
“A night spent with you girls?” I raise an eyebrow. “Never in my life would I miss this.”
“I think you just became one of my favorite people.” Autumn chuckles, pressing a kiss to my cheek as I join her in laughter.
I meant it when I said I would never miss this because of them.
They’ve welcomed me and invited me into their lives, quickly becoming my people here in this small town. A group of girls I didn’t know I needed until I met them. It’s a complete 180 from the “friends” I had back in California. They genuinely care about me and it’s not a one-sided type of friendship.
The song changes, and I hear Shania shout “Let’s Go Girls” through the speakers. The girls look at each other with wide eyes and open mouths.
“It’s our song!” they shout in unison.
They grab each other’s hands and hustle out to the middle of the dance floor.
“Whoa,” Tucker says, rounding the bar quickly. “It’s my song too. Wait for me.”
I follow his movements until he reaches the girls, jumping up and down like an excited teenage girl at the high school dance ready to tear up the dance floor. I can’t stop smiling at how fun this group is.
I turn around to face the bar and see Griffin standing right across from me.
His face is all work, no play.
I almost feel the smile on my face fall, but determination wins, and I refuse to let him know I feel nervous around him.
“What are ya drinkin’?” he asks .
“A martini?”
His eyebrows knit together. “We don’t have those here.”
I tilt my head in confusion. “You mean to tell me you’re a bar that doesn’t serve martinis?”
I’ve already noticed the ingredients needed to make it line the counter behind him but decide to play this little game he seems to want to play right now.
He shakes his head. “Beer or whiskey. It’s what we’re known for.”
“I thought it was the seven stools?” I smirk.
He nods his head repeatedly, as if he’s proud of my response. “You’re catching on.”
I scan the bar behind him, trying to figure out what to order. One thing I can’t stand is beer. I’ve never liked it. It’s gross and makes me feel like shit after just one drink.
But I’ve also never had whiskey before.
“Fine,” I say, lifting my chin to find the confidence I didn’t know I had in me. “I’ll take a whiskey.”
“You sure about that?”
The corner of my lip tips up. “It’s all you got, right?”
He pauses, staring at me for just a brief moment before he nods.
I can’t take my eyes off him the entire time he works behind the bar pouring my drink. He grabs a short glass, skips the ice, and reaches for a bottle of whiskey that sits on the top of the three-tiered liquor shelf he has set up.
“Whiskey neat,” he says, sliding it across the bar in front of me. “On me.”
I look from him to the glass and back to him, lifting the glass in the air for a toast even though he has nothing in his hand.
I take a small sip and crinkle my face in disgust.
People actually drink this? What the hell? It tastes like I’m drinking something straight off a tree. Oak mixed with spices? This can’t be something people actually enjoy.
“That’s disgusting,” I say, sticking my tongue out repeatedly, as if moving it around my mouth will actually remove the taste. I lift the glass in the air and look at the amber liquid before looking back at Griffin. “This would probably taste way better on you.”
His eyes narrow, and I don’t back down.
I kinda, sorta mean it. This drink is gross, but, damn, it’d probably taste way better on him.
“What did you just say?” he says, flatly.
“Oops,” I say, covering my mouth with my hand, forcing the words to come out all muffled. “Did I just put my foot in my mouth again?”
He leans one forearm on the bar, bringing himself closer to me and I suck in a breath. “What did you just say?” he repeats.
I remove my hand from my mouth and straighten my spine. “I said…this would probably taste better on you . It’s certainly got an interesting taste.”
“Explain,” he demands.
I rest my elbows on the bar, leaning over, and watch as his eyes trail to the swell of my breasts before looking back into my eyes. This outfit isn’t something I normally settle for, and it’s very outside my comfort zone with how vibrant the colors are. But it sparkles. It makes me feel sexy. The combination of the boots with the hat makes me feel like I belong somewhere again.
Something about the way this man looks at me, even without a smile on his face, turns me on so damn much.
This is my chance to crack a smile.
I want to see it in the worst way possible.
Not to mention, the shitty wine coolers I had earlier are definitely making me feel bolder than I normally am.
“It means that if you took this glass and slowly poured it down your chest, letting it drip down your body for me to lick off, it would probably taste better,” I say, finishing my sentence with a smirk. “Is that a good enough explanation, Angry Cowboy?”
He stares at me, unblinking, before he moves his gaze to my mouth. He doesn’t stop staring so I take the moment to let my tongue trail along my bottom lip. The same tongue I just told him I would use to lick whiskey off his bare skin. His pupils widen, telling me he’s absolutely thinking about it. But then he surprises me by walking away without even acknowledging a single thing I just said.
Shit. I screwed that up.
Now my very good-looking, grumpy neighbor thinks I’m a freak in so many more ways than just screaming about a moose standing outside of my window watching me shower.
I leave the full glass of whiskey at the bar and head to where the girls and Tucker are dancing.
“Where’s your drink?” Lily asks.
“Whiskey isn’t my thing.” I shrug with a laugh.
“I couldn’t help but watch that entire thing go down,” Tucker says, leaning into me. “You seem to have gotten him fired up, huh, City Chic?”
“City Chic?” I question.
“That’s my nickname for you,” he says with a proud smile.
I smile in his direction, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s better than ‘freak show.’”
He rears his head back. “Who calls you that? Let me find out, City Chic. I’ll throw some elbows.”
“Relax,” I joke. “I’m just guessing that’s what his nickname for me is.”
“Griffin is an acquired taste,” Poppy chimes in, adding an eye roll.
That’s the second time someone’s said that, and now I’m definitely thinking more and more about how he actually tastes.
“Don’t stress about it,” Tucker says. “He’s just set in his ways and will come around. You’re not so bad, City Chic.” He bumps my shoulder with a grin.
I can’t help but wonder if he ever will.
But I also want to know why the hell I’m so drawn to him.