Chapter 3
3
STEPHANIE
This couldn’t be happening, Stephanie thought wildly in disbelief, trying not to pant, gasp, or have a complete and utter nervous breakdown. The hottest guy in the bar was talking to her, ordering coffee to sit with her , and told Lila to bug off after Lila blabbed to him and everyone within earshot that she was a virgin.
What. The. Heck?!
Yet, that handsome sailor who seemed so elusive, so out of her reach, had doubled down instead. He seemed completely focused on her. He took her by the wrist, guided her to this little corner table, and was ordering coffee for them, treating her like she was special or something. Maybe he had a little sister who looked like her? Maybe he thought it was ‘sweet’ that she’d been raised properly?
Maybe he was the one who thought he was going to get in your pants tonight?
That little insidious voice inside of her head caused her to swallow nervously because she didn’t want to think badly about the man who seemed to glow with vitality and exuded sex appeal. When he’d catapulted off the keg and thrown his arms in the air, yelling proudly with excitement, she had almost let out a cheer too.
Nervously, she smoothed back her straight brown hair that was held with a scrunchie at the back of her head and straightened her blouse. There was no reason she couldn’t look like a lady in the middle of a dive bar, right? As she caught his gaze for a moment, she hesitated, wondering if this was perhaps a trick to see how long the geeky girl would sit there alone… and swallowed back her fear, praying that wasn’t the case.
Please don’t be a creep.
Please don’t be a creep.
Please don’t be a creep… and hadn’t realized how distracted she was until someone appeared before her eyes causing her to look up. Lance had brought over two fancy-looking glasses and smiled sheepishly at her before sitting down.
“Turns out that they are fresh out of coffee, but they made us espresso martinis instead. Have you ever had one?”
“No?”
“Then you are in for a real treat,” he chuckled softly, giving her goose bumps in awareness. “If someone makes them right, you can taste the coffee and not the alcohol. Lucky for us, they don’t make them often here, so he had the good liquor in stock to use in them.”
“I don’t drink.”
“Not even once?” and Lance hesitated as Stephanie shook her head. “Well then, I suppose I’ll have two of them – unless you change your mind,” he invited.
Stephanie clenched her hands in her lap to keep from sighing at the sight. Who knew the Devil wore the white uniform of an officer, had jet black hair, and the hottest dimple in his chin known to man ? If this wasn’t temptation, she didn’t know what was.
And as if he could read her mind, Lance picked up one of the martini glasses, and licked the rim slowly. His tongue barely emerged over his lip, almost like he was tickling the glass and took a sip, watching at her. If that had been anyone else, she would have backed away in a rush… because EWW? However, ‘EW’ was the last thing on her mind. No, in fact, that miniscule lick was fascinating and instead of grossing her out, she felt insane jealousy of those sugar crystals along the rim.
One way ticket to Hell please – first class. What do you mean that’s a bad thing? Are you blind? Have you seen this guy in front of me?
“The bartender sugared the rim, just a head’s up,” he offered quietly, setting down his glass and looking at her. “It’s delicious. So, tell me all about yourself. I bet you are a librarian in some small town – eh?”
“No,” she hesitated in confusion, wondering what would give him that idea. “I’m a bank teller.”
“Okay, I can definitely work with that,” he said distractedly, picking up his glass and taking a sip again. Oh gosh, there it was, that tiny little caress of the glass with his tongue… and why am I watching his tongue ?
“What do you do in the Navy? What ship are you assigned to?” she asked hoarsely. “Do you prefer I call you Lance or Trophy?”
“Do you prefer Steffi or Stephanie?” he countered easily, looking amused. “Everyone calls me Trophy, but I think you should probably call me Lance.”
“Stephanie,” she whispered nervously causing him to lean forward to hear her in the noisy bar. “Why am I being singled out to call you by your given name?”
“Because you are different… unique.”
“You don’t know me. How could you assume that I am unique?”
“No, we are getting to know each other right now, aren’t we, Stephanie? What’s your favorite season? Your favorite show?” he blurted out, smiling as he took a sip again. “What kind of things do you like to do when you are at home?”
“My favorite season?” she repeated, chuckling at the weird question only to see his smile widen as he waited. “I guess Autumn. I like the leaves changing colors and the cooler evenings. There are more deer in the area, it’s like everything is clinging to the summer season as long as possible before dying off. What’s your favorite season?” Only to see him hesitate in surprise – and she laughed.
“What? Has no one asked you the same questions or wanted to know more about you?”
“Not really?” he chuckled, smiling. “I guess I would say autumn or wintertime but for very different reasons. I like the cooler temperatures because it can get really swampy with the heat back home - and back in Florida.”
“Is that where you are from?” she interrupted.
“I’m from Alexandria, Louisiana originally. I’m currently stationed in Mayport, Florida – just on the east side of Jacksonville along the coastline – and you didn’t let me finish.”
“Oh,” she uttered, stunned that he was obviously teasing her about interrupting him. His smile was soft, his eyes were warm and inviting, softening his words. “I’m sorry. Please go ahead.”
“Don’t apologize, I just wanted to continue telling you that I like the cooler months because of the holidays, cuddling under the blankets on lazy days, and fuzzy socks.”
“What?” she blurted out, chuckling in disbelief, wondering if she misheard him – only to have Lance’s laughter join in with hers.
They shared a smile and a look, and both started laughing again as she picked up the martini glass and took a small sip. The approval in his eyes was nice – and combined with the flavor of coffee, sweetness, and something else. It was heady.
“What? Some guys like pampering themselves, and I am pretty fond of fuzzy socks – sort of a big snob, actually,” he paused as she started laughing harder at the idea of this big, tough guy in uniform was talking about plush socks. “I guess what I’m saying is that when it comes to my socks, I don’t cheap out. Thick socks should be plush without getting ratty or leaving a bunch of fuzz on your feet. They must have rubber grippy buttons on the foot so you don’t slip. I am partial to the ones with funny images on them or if they look like animals… and I like making you laugh.”
And she was laughing.
Stephanie couldn’t help it. She was laughing so hard that she was crying – and he was chuckling with her, sharing that moment. It just felt so good to be treated nicely by someone who saw more of her than just the outside. He was talking with her, engaging, and making her feel special, and it was fantastic.
Was this what dating was supposed to be like? She had been on a few blind dates and met with someone over coffee, but it was never like this. Usually, it was painfully awkward, and she always felt like she was in the spotlight being analyzed, but not this time. This felt comfortable and welcoming and made her want to stay there instead of excusing herself at the first available chance.
“Do you have a thing against fuzzy socks?”
“Not at all,” Stephanie smiled shyly as he touched her hand. “This is actually pretty good,” she offered, gingerly picking up the martini and sipping on it again, hesitating as she looked at Lance.
He was watching her take a sip of the drink. A part of her nearly melted into a puddle on the floor, wondering if he was watching her lips… kinda like she’d been watching his. Awareness, recognition, and something warm unfurled in her stomach, her very core, as his eyes raised to hers.
“Don’t let it go to your head, though,” he whispered huskily, leaning toward her as his thumb caressed her hand… and she couldn’t look away from him. “While it’s delicious, it can be easy to lose control – not that it’s a bad thing. Think of it more like a warning. Take it slow and savor the taste and the feel of it on your tongue. It’s an experience, not a race.”
She couldn’t speak.
His dark eyes watched hers as the corner of his lip curled slightly in awareness. She saw him pick up his drink and watched him sweep the rim once more before taking a deep sip.
“I thought you said to savor it,” she began, stunned at how easily the question fell from her lips and how attracted she was to this perfect stranger… only to see him smile.
“There’s lots of warnings in life that some of us ignore,” he teased knowingly. “Haven’t you eaten raw cookie dough?”
“Yes, but…”
“What about the warning of salmonella?” he asked, his eyes dancing as if he already knew the answer. “Or is it sometimes you sense that things are going to be just so delicious that you know it’s worth the risk?”
“It’s divine… and raw cookie dough is my favorite.”
“Ahhh, so you are a risk-taker, my little librarian.”
“Maybe I am,” she replied, lifting her glass and taking another sip. “Maybe I’m curious about what getting out of my comfort zone can get me.”
“It can get you in trouble.”
“Are you trouble?”
“No, but you might be,” he whispered huskily and raised his hand, looking away for a moment before giving her a slow, steady smile.
“What are you doing?”
“Ordering another set of martinis and jumping into the deep end of a whole lotta ‘trouble,’ feet first… and you?”
Stephanie met his eyes and saw the curiosity, the wonder, the silent question that remained unspoken between them.
Would she indulge in her wild side? Would she be willing to see where this conversation went? What would happen if they both took a chance on a stranger, making memories neither would forget?
“I think I’m about to find out what risk, trouble, and adventure are really like,” she muttered huskily – and finished her drink as the bartender set down two more glasses.