Not My Finest Hour (Love in the PNW #3)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

“ B ottoms up, ladies!”

You know that feeling you get when you’re about to do something you know you’ll probably regret later? That’s me right now. And this shot of tequila I have in my hand? It’ll probably be my downfall tonight.

But you know what? You only live once. And really, what’s one more shot? It’s not like I’ve had that many tonight. This is only my second…or maybe third or fourth. Who’s counting? I tip the shot glass back, feeling the burn as the alcohol slides down my throat. One by one, my two girlfriends and I chase the tequila by sucking on a wedge of lime.

Chelsea slams her shot glass down on the bar. “That’s it. That’s my last one,” she says, talking loud enough to be heard over the bass that’s thumping throughout the place.

Lorelei raises a brow. “You tapping out?” When Chelsea nods, she replies, “Wuss.”

I push my shot glass toward the pile of empties. “Remind me why we’re celebrating again? I’m having a hard time remembering why we decided to go out tonight when we all have to work tomorrow.”

“Because it’s the second anniversary of the day I almost threw my life away.” Lorelei’s eyes bore into mine like I should know this already. But really, the girl has so many anniversaries and celebrations, I have a hard time keeping them all straight. Just last week, we all went out to celebrate her dog’s fifth birthday—never mind the fact that her dog wasn’t even there.

“Thank God you didn’t go through with it,” Chelsea says, referring to the day Lorelei’s fiancé (at the time) wanted her to uproot her life and move with him to Florida.

Lorelei flicks her jet-black hair behind her shoulder. “I know, right? Me a Floridian. Can you imagine? Florida is so…so…flat. And swampy.”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Florida sounds kinda nice right now considering it’s been raining almost nonstop for the past two days. I could go for a little sunshine and heat.” It’s not like me to let the weather get me down. I mean, I grew up here so I know what the weather’s like. But lately, there hasn’t been much in my life to get excited about. Not to mention that almost every other day I have to see my sister and her fiancé, Brett, be all lovey-dovey with one another. These little outings with my friends are a nice reprieve from having to witness that.

“Yeah, the weather lately has been a drag,” Chelsea agrees. “But we shouldn’t let that bother us tonight. Have you seen the scenery in here?”

I scan the bar with my gaze. Chelsea’s right. There are a lot of hot guys in here tonight.

This exclusive bar is the latest to open up in Capitol Hill, and the line to get in wrapped around the building. Luckily, Lorelei was so desperate to get us all in to celebrate, she paid someone to stand in line for us. Who knew that was a thing? By the time we arrived, we only had to wait a few minutes, which was good because my outfit and hair wouldn’t have held up in the rain. I almost felt sorry seeing some of the drenched women totter in after us on their sky-high heels, hair limp like wet noodles. Almost.

“I feel like we’re surrounded by hot guys,” Lorelei says, the excitement of the evening apparent in her eyes. “I wouldn’t mind taking that one home right there.” She points to a guy who’s about six-two with sandy blond hair. The guy throws her a wink, causing her to almost faint on the spot. “Did you see that? He winked at me!”

“We saw. And it’s a miracle you’re still standing,” I say, nudging her arm. “Maybe you should go and talk to him.”

“You think so?” Lorelei asks. Chelsea and I nod in agreement. She turns to walk away, then stops. “No, I can’t. I came out tonight to celebrate with my friends, and it wouldn’t be right to leave you two.”

“You came out tonight to have fun. And maybe hooking up with that guy is part of it,” I say, trying to get her to leave. I know if she doesn’t leave, she’s going to spend the whole evening regretting not talking to him, and then getting angry when someone else moves in.

Lorelei shifts her gaze toward me, then toward Chelsea, then back to me. “Are you sure? I feel bad.”

“Just go,” Chelsea says, pulling her chestnut-colored hair into a ponytail. “We’ll be fine here.”

Lorelei’s mouth spreads into a wide grin. “Okay. Wish me luck.” She leaves the table and joins Blondie on the other side of the room.

“Thank goodness. I thought she was never going to leave,” Chelsea says with a laugh.

“And look,” I say, nodding toward Lorelei. “Things must be going well over there. She’s already touched him at least twice.”

“Now that we won’t be seeing her the rest of the evening, it’s time we find someone for you.”

I shake my head. “Not interested. I didn’t come out tonight looking for a hookup.”

“Then what were you looking for when you put on that short skirt and top that barely covers your midriff? And those heels? Come on.” Chelsea narrows her eyes.

She’s got me there. I put these clothes on tonight to look hot, and maybe get the attention of a guy or two. But I only did it to score some free drinks and give my ego a little boost. “Just because I’m dressed like this doesn’t mean I want to go home with someone.”

“I never said anything about going home with anyone. It’s just some harmless flirting.” She looks around the room, a space no bigger than your average Starbucks. “What about that guy right there?” She points to a guy wearing glasses who’s talking with another woman.

“Taken. Look how close that woman standing next to him is,” I say.

“That’s his sister. That’s why they’re so close.”

I giggle in response. “Shut up. You don’t know that.”

“What about that guy over there?” she says, pointing to a guy who looks like he just stepped out of a nineties Gap catalog.

“Come on,” I say, glaring at her. “You can’t be serious.”

She shrugs. “The nineties are coming back, you know.”

“Not that quickly.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be serious this time. What about him over there?” Chelsea says, nodding toward the end of the bar. “He’s been looking this way all night.”

I follow her gaze and spot what could be Chris Evans’ doppelg?nger leaning up against the bar. But a bearded Chris Evans, not clean-shaven. Toned body, dark hair, a bit of mischief in those eyes…I could go for some of that right now. “There’s no way he’s been looking this way all night. This is the first I’ve seen him.”

“That’s because you’ve been too busy talking to notice. I noticed for you, and I really think he’s into you.”

“How can you tell?”

“Because I thought he was into me, so I looked his way and tried to seduce him with my eyes. And he was having none of it. He couldn’t stop looking at you though. You should go talk to him.” She nudges my arm.

I hesitate, trying to decide if I want to have the whole getting-to-know-you conversation tonight, and decide that I don’t. “Nah. I’m really not feeling up to it. I’m just happy to be out having a good time with friends.”

“Yeah, and one of your friends has ditched you already. Come on,” she says, placing a kind hand on my arm. “You’ve been kinda down lately. You need something—or someone—in your life to cheer you up. Some flirting with a hot guy would do you some good.”

Depressed? Me? She can’t be serious. What could I have possibly done to insinuate that I’m depressed? “I haven’t been depressed. I think you’re reading too much into things.”

Her eyes soften. “It’s not just me. Lorelei sees it too.” She hesitates, her gaze dropping to the floor. “And your mother.”

“My mother ? When did you talk to her?”

“Last month when she had us all over for dinner.” I open my mouth to speak because I have a lot of questions, like when the hell was there time for my mother to voice her concerns for me? And why would she tell my friends that? But Chelsea holds her hand up, signaling that now’s not the time for such questions. “Your mother means well, but she’s concerned because you haven’t had a boyfriend since you-know-who. And you haven’t even had a casual date.”

“Maybe I’m done with men,” I say, not believing the words coming out of my own mouth.

She narrows her eyes. “I don’t think you are.”

“So you think I’m going to find my next boyfriend here in this bar?”

The truth is, I had someone who was really special, and I fully envisioned spending the rest of my life with him. Alain was everything I wanted in a boyfriend and then some. He was in the U.S. on a student visa, and I met him in college in my English composition class. He was studying to be a civil engineer, whereas I was majoring in marketing. The second he spoke and I heard that sexy French accent, I was hooked. We dated all throughout college, and the day after we graduated, he had to go back to France for a family emergency. He told me he’d return as soon as he could, and also hinted at a proposal since he said he would ask me an “important question” when he got back. But other than a text right before takeoff, I haven’t heard from him.

I made a lot of excuses for him. In fact, for the first six months, that’s all I did. I told everyone he’d be back soon, and that he and I talked daily so they wouldn’t be concerned. But after another six months went by, and then another with still no sign of him, I knew he was never coming back. A small part of me held out hope that someday he’d show up on my doorstep and have one hell of an apology cooked up. But it's been four years and clearly that’s not going to happen.

“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that you can’t find someone if you don’t put yourself out there.”

She does have a point. “And what about you? I can’t leave you all by yourself.”

“You’d be doing me a favor. I’ve been eyeing that guy over there,” she says, pointing toward yet another guy. “And I can’t go after him until you leave.”

“Are you talking about the one who looks like a bodybuilder or the one that’s more like a beanpole?” The contrast between the two guys is staggering, although I can see the allure of both.

“Definitely the bodybuilder.” She runs her tongue over her bottom lip. “I wouldn’t mind him bench pressing me a few times.”

“I’ll leave you to it then. If I don’t hear from you the rest of the night, just be safe.”

“If I have my way, you definitely won’t be hearing from me,” she says, throwing me a devilish wink. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow morning.”

Chelsea vacates the area, leaving me standing all by my lonesome. It doesn’t take long for Chris Evans’ twin to fill the void.

He props himself up on the bar with an elbow and faces me. It’s then that I notice he’s probably the most casually dressed person here. While everyone else is dressed to impress, he seems totally relaxed in the fitted, olive-colored T-shirt and jeans he’s wearing. I like it. It shows that he’s comfortable in his own skin. “Can I get you a drink?” When I nod, he asks, “What would you like?”

I can’t do another shot. I’m still feeling the effects of the last one, and if I have one more, I’m not going to remember anything about tonight. And if I’m going to truly put myself out there again, I want to have my wits about me. “I’ll take a beer. Whatever they have on tap is fine.”

The guy orders two beers and places one in front of me. We clink glasses and each take a sip. It’s light, hoppy with a hint of citrus, and goes down easily, especially after having tequila most of the night.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

“Dahlia. And yours?”

“Dahlia? Like the flower?”

I nod. “Exactly like the flower.”

He pauses, eyes drifting away for a split second, then takes a sip of his beer. “Huh. I’ve never met anyone with that name before. I like it. My name’s Justin.”

“So, Justin, what do you do?” Oh, God. Is that even a good question to ask, or is that too forward? Is he going to think that I want to know how much money he makes? As if that matters to me.

“I’m in my fourth year of residency.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

He smiles, the skin crinkling around his eyes. “It means I’m almost a full-fledged doctor.”

Realization hits me almost instantly. “Oh! That kind of residency.”

“Is there any other kind?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. I just never expected to meet a doctor in a bar.”

“Yeah, it’s not usually my scene, especially on a weeknight, but a friend dragged me here.”

“And where is your friend now?”

“Over there with that woman,” he says, pointing toward the back of the bar.

I follow his finger and find him pointing to Lorelei and the guy next to her. “Sounds like your friend and my friend found each other. I came here tonight with her and that one over there,” I say, pointing to where Chelsea is practically hanging on the bodybuilder.

“Yeah, I saw you with them earlier.”

“So you admit you were watching me?” I ask, a grin playing on my lips.

The corners of his lips turn up in a mischievous smile. “Guilty.”

A frisson of excitement skitters down my spine, giving me goosebumps. Chelsea was right. He was watching me, and likely has been all night if he saw me with my friends. I’m not gonna lie…I’m more than a little turned on by it, and it’s been too long since I’ve felt this way. So after a bit of small talk, when Justin looks up at me after draining his beer and asks, “Do you want to go back to my place?” I don’t even think twice about it.

Feeling emboldened by the amount of alcohol I’ve had, I link my arm through his and we exit the building, out into the rain, Justin doing his best to shield me from the worst of it. We quickly walk to a neighboring parking garage and as soon as we’re sheltered and out of the rain, he pulls me against his chest. I’m lost in those bright, ice-blue eyes of his and don’t resist when he brings his lips to mine. His kiss is warm and sensual, with just the right amount of firmness. I can’t remember the last time I was kissed, and it’s like it’s broken something open inside of me. I have to have more. Crave more. I’m on my tiptoes, trying to bring myself closer and closer to him. He responds by deepening the kiss, then grazing my lower lip with his tongue. He pulls away, leaving me breathless, my heart pounding against my chest.

He plants one last small kiss against my lips, then takes my hand and leads me to his car. Before he starts it, he turns toward me. “Are you sure you still want to do this? I can take you home if you want.”

I’ve realized something tonight. I’ve been holding myself hostage for far too long, waiting on a guy who is never coming back. It’s time for me to rid myself of Alain once and for all. My friends and my mom are wrong. I can move on from Alain, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do tonight.

I lace my fingers through his and say, “Take me to your place.”