Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
Kiera
Kiera stepped into the bar, the rich scent of aged whiskey and citrus curling around her as she took in the space. Polished mahogany and floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing Denver's glittering lights created an intimate, sleek atmosphere. A curved bar stretched across one side of the room, its glass shelves glowing with the reflection of hundreds of bottles, while clusters of low leather booths lined the opposite wall. Soft jazz murmured from hidden speakers, the kind of background music designed to make everything feel luxurious.
It was the kind of place that encouraged whispered conversations, knowing glances over the rim of a cocktail glass, hands brushing on smooth tabletops. Anticipation coiled in Kiera's stomach as she searched for Izzy.
They had each driven their own cars, a choice that had seemed sensible when she proposed it. She paused just inside, sensing an underlying intensity. Being there alone, looking for Izzy among so many strangers, felt electrifying. It made this feel like something else. Not just two old friends meeting for a drink.
Something about that both thrilled and unnerved her.
Her eyes landed on Izzy at the far end of the bar, already perched on a stool, her fingers wrapped loosely around the stem of a martini glass. With her legs crossed, posture relaxed, and hair tousled with studied casualness, she looked devastatingly attractive. The dim lighting softened her small features, casting golden shadows along the line of her jaw, the slope of her nose. She wasn’t dressed up, not exactly — just a fitted olive-green T-shirt and perfectly broken-in dark jeans — but she looked unfairly good, like she always did.
Kiera took a breath, straightened her shoulders, and made her way toward Izzy. Arriving at the bar, she perched beside Izzy, offering a slow, teasing smile instead of a greeting.
The bartender approached. “I’ll have whatever she’s having,” Kiera said, tilting her head. “And bring her another, too.”
Izzy turned toward her, arching an eyebrow as if taking her in for the first time. She leaned back slightly, letting her gaze sweep over Kiera with exaggerated interest, her expression one of deliberate intrigue. “Careful,” she said, swirling the clear liquid in her glass. “Mine’s got jalapeno in it.”
Kiera bit back a grin. “I like a little heat.”
Izzy smirked. “I do enjoy a woman confident enough to order mystery cocktails and flirt with strangers.”
Kiera tasted her drink, some kind of jalapeno Dark and Stormy, rum and ginger and warmth.
Izzy made a show of considering her, then stated, “So, mystery cocktail girl,” she leaned in slightly, voice lower, playful. “What’s your name?”
Kiera smirked. “Why don’t you guess?”
Intrigued, she tilted her head, as if Kiera were a captivating mystery. “Hmm. You don’t strike me as a Stephanie or Lauren… Maybe a Jessica?”
“Wow. You really think I look like a Jessica?” Kiera balked.
“Okay, you’re right. I take it back. You’re more of a…” Izzy bit her lip, and Kiera could barely drag her eyes away. “Kiera.”
Kiera feigned surprise. “How’d you guess?”
Izzy’s mouth twitched. “Lucky guess. Or, I’ve got a sixth sense for interesting women.”
Kiera ran a finger along the edge of the cocktail napkin in front of her, feigning contemplation. “Hmm, interesting? What’s your sixth sense telling you now?”
“That I should probably ask for your number.”
Kiera let herself lean in just a fraction as she sipped her drink, feeling emboldened by the game, by the subtle push and pull between them. “You’re pretty confident that I’ll give it to you…” Kiera let her eyes drag over Izzy’s face, then lower.
“Izzy.” Izzy took a slow sip of her drink, her gaze steady. When she set the glass down, her mouth curved just slightly. “I’m not really the forgettable type.”
The words sent electricity through Kiera’s veins, but she couldn’t help but grin and roll her eyes. “Such a line.”
Kiera felt Izzy’s stare everywhere. The slow, creeping warmth that curled through her stomach, pooling low, making her pulse flutter against her throat. She had been playing, flirting, pushing at the edges of something undefined, but now that Izzy was looking at her like that — like she was worth the chase — the game felt real. Who could she be if she had any choice in the world? What could she do? That realization sent a delicious shiver down her spine.
“What can I say? You’re really bringing out my A material tonight.” Izzy’s gaze flickered over her, assessing, lingering just long enough that Kiera had to suppress the urge to shift in her seat. Her body was betraying her — heart hammering, skin prickling with awareness, her fingers cool against her glass. She felt seen, and not in the casual way old friends saw each other, but in a way that made her wonder what else Izzy might see in her.
“Are you always this forward with strangers in bars?” Kiera said with a shy laugh.
“Only when I meet someone I don’t want to forget,” Izzy murmured back, and her voice was lower now, smoother, slipping through Kiera’s ribs like warm honey.
She had thought — well, she wasn’t sure what she had thought, only that she had walked in here knowing she wanted to see Izzy. She hadn’t planned for Izzy to play along. She hadn’t planned for the way her skin would flush hot, for the way her breath would catch just from the look in Izzy’s eyes. She reached for her drink again, more for the distraction than anything else. When she took a sip, she barely tasted the alcohol. “You’re lucky I’m a sucker for bold women.”
Izzy drummed her fingers against the wooden bar top, her smirk lingering at the corner of her lips.
Kiera’s smile was slow. “And here I was just about to swear off strangers in bars.”
“Lucky for me, I’m hoping to be something else entirely.” The confidence in Izzy’s voice wasn’t just playful — it edged toward cocky, and somehow, it worked. Kiera found herself leaning in, drawn to it.
Kiera lifted an eyebrow. “Oh? And what exactly would that be?”
“That depends.” Izzy’s voice dropped, the words like silk against Kiera’s skin. “Would you want to see me again?”
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Kiera could feel as Izzy shifted, then the steady press of Izzy’s knee against her thigh. Izzy's focused attention was intensely distracting. Suddenly self-conscious, she felt her pulse pounding, her breath quickening, and a flush of heat spreading through her, settling between her thighs.
Kiera barely resisted the urge to shiver. She had spent so much time thinking about what she shouldn’t be doing — shouldn’t be imagining Izzy’s hands on her waist, or the way she had looked at her on the beach, or how their kiss had felt — that she hadn’t given much thought to what she wanted.
And right now, she wanted… Well, she wanted to keep playing.
Kiera lifted her drink to her lips, hoping her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt, tilting her head slightly. “You’re bold.”
Izzy let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. “And you’re curious. I can tell. You want to know if I talk like this in private, too.”
A small, reckless thrill curled through her chest. She could do this. Just for tonight, she wasn’t going to think too hard about what it meant. “Do you?”
“Well,” she said, nudging Kiera’s thigh again with her own under the bar. “Only one way to find out.”
Kiera watched as Izzy slid the napkin across the polished wood of the bar, her movement slow, deliberate. The numbers scrawled in dark ink were unmistakable. Room 1012.
Izzy didn’t say a word. She just lifted her glass, draining the last of her drink, and then stood. Her expression gave nothing away — no teasing smirk, no challenge, just quiet intensity. Kiera’s stomach flipped.
She should say something. Should laugh, make a joke, break the tension before it consumed her. But before she could even find her voice, Izzy was walking away, weaving through the low-lit bar, her stride confident, measured.
Kiera’s fingers curled around the edge of the napkin.
She could leave. She could crumple the napkin, finish her drink, pretend like nothing had happened, like the heat still coursing through her veins was just leftover adrenaline from their little game.
She knew if she followed, nothing would ever be the same.
She exhaled slowly, taking one last sip. Then, before she could think about it too hard, she stood, smoothed her shirt, and turned toward the door.
The hallway outside the bar was dim, lined with sleek modern sconces casting a soft glow. Her heels barely made a sound against the carpet as she walked toward the elevators, heart pounding in her throat. She pressed the call button. The doors slid open immediately.
And there, standing inside the elevator with a wicked grin, was Izzy.
The entire world seemed to narrow, the air between them thick with possibility.
Izzy stepped back, motioning for her to enter. “Going up?”
Trembling, Kiera stepped inside. “Floor 10, please.” Izzy reached out to press the button for the tenth floor. As the doors slid shut, Kiera turned, half-ready to say something, but Izzy didn’t give her the chance.
She grabbed Kiera, bodies colliding, and kissed her.
Izzy’s hands were warm against Kiera’s waist, her lips insistent. Kiera barely had time to think before she was kissing Izzy back, gripping Izzy’s jacket like she needed something to hold onto, like she needed to steady herself.
Lost in the kiss, their desperate hands and mouths roamed. Kiera was caught up in the intoxicating heat of Izzy’s tongue on her throat, the warmth of that damn cherry and ginger perfume, that she barely registered the elevator's gentle hum and the soft chimes of passing floors. This was nothing like the kiss in the beach house kitchen.
That kiss had been a question.
This was an answer.