Chapter Two
“Good choice,” E sips the wine I chose from the hotel’s lackluster menu.
I huff a laugh. “Please, it tastes like a cheap bottle of overpriced wine. Which you didn’t need to get a bottle of.”
He swirls the burgundy liquid in the glass. “You sounded so professional when you ordered it. And it’s not that bad.”
I take a sip of the wine, letting the flavors roll over my tongue.
He’s right, it isn’t horrible, but it isn’t great either.
It’s a Malbec with notes of plum, blackberry and violet aromatics.
I had ordered a glass, then E said he’d have the same and asked for the bottle.
I wasn’t going to complain. If he hated it, I could take the bottle back to the hotel room I still need to book, and drink the rest myself.
But he’s drinking it, and he looks sexy as hell while doing it.
His long fingers bring the wine glass back to his lips.
I grip the stem of mine as he tilts the glass, the red liquid moving until it meets his mouth.
He drinks, his Adam’s apple bobbing in the smooth column of his throat.
It shouldn’t be as hot as it is, and I shouldn’t be staring, but I’m only human.
He places the glass back on the table and meets my gaze. “Tell me, Theo. How do you know so much about wine?”
“Hobby,” I answer easily.
“Just a hobby?”
I nod. “I love plants, gardening. I’ve always had a green thumb. When I turned sixteen, my mom started giving me sips of her wine. I developed a fascination for grapes, how to grow them well, and eventually the process of wine making.”
E leans forward so I can see his beautiful features better. “So why is it just a hobby?”
“Grove City isn’t exactly the wine capital of the world. Becoming a sommelier wouldn’t pay the bills, and I can’t exactly open a vineyard with no capital, even if that’s my ultimate dream.”
“What is it you do then?”
“You really want to know?”
“And why wouldn’t I?”
I chuckle. “For one, it’s not that interesting. And two, I’m a stranger that you’re sharing a table with. We don’t have to exchange information.”
“I don’t know,” he smiles, this time showing off perfectly straight white teeth. “If we were only sharing a table, maybe no other information would be needed. But we are now sharing a bottle of wine, and I find you interesting. Which means I know I’ll find your job interesting.”
I could argue that he was the one who offered, not only to buy me a drink, but to share a bottle, and that doesn’t mean we need to divulge any personal information, but I find I want to share. This mysterious man makes me want to spill my guts.
I swirl my wine, watching the liquid spin in the glass before I answer. “I work as a florist.”
“And that’s lucrative for you?”
“Pays the bills.”
My heart beats faster and my cheeks heat at the intensity of E’s gaze. He parts his lips as if he’s about to say more, but stops himself, taking another small drink of wine, before topping off his glass and then mine.
“Thank you.” I sit back in the booth. “And what is it that you do?”
“I’m a matchmaker.”
My eyebrows shoot up. Out of all the things he could have said, I would have never guessed that. I would have thought he’d do something in big business, maybe in finance or trading. I would have even guessed he owned this hotel before being a matchmaker.
“Really?” I ask.
“You find that hard to believe?”
“Can’t say I’ve met many matchmakers at hotel bars.”
He lifts a light-colored brow. “Does that mean you frequent hotel bars?”
I shake my head, enjoying our easy back and forth that’s starting to feel a lot like flirting. “No, can’t say that I do, actually.”
“What about bars in general?”
His eyes penetrate mine, and I can’t look away. I find myself wishing it was brighter in here so I could see the different layers of blue within the depths of his irises. I lean forward in my seat, as if a string is pulling us closer, a building zing of attraction sparking between us.
“No,” I say.
“Wineries?” He asks.
I smile and look down at my glass of red. “I wish.”
“Why just wish?”
I look back up from my glass. “You’re not from here, are you?”
E leans back in the booth and shakes his head. “That obvious?”
“I mean, you are in a hotel bar. But as I mentioned, Grove City isn’t known for its wineries. Our closest one is an hour away. It’s also winter.”
“Right,” he says. I pause before I ask, “Where are you from? And what brings you here—a Valentine’s Matchmaker Convention?”
E laughs, the sound like a sinful melody. “Something like that.”
“Shit, really?”
He leans forward so we can see each other better. Only amplifying the crackling energy between us that I couldn’t ignore if I tried.
“I was in town to make matches.”
“Looking to set up lonely souls at a hotel bar, or get business from heartbroken ones?”
E slides his wine glass to the side so he can place his arms on the table. With his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the candlelight flickers over his thick forearms. With the light, I can also see there’s a bit of stubble on his curved jaw and different shades of blond in his curls.
“If you were to ask me that thirty minutes ago, I would have said yes.”
My fingers tighten around the stem of the wine glass. “That’s changed now?” My voice comes out quieter than I expected it to, and I almost look away from E’s simmering stare.
“It has.”
I debate asking my next question, because there is only one thing that could have changed in the last thirty minutes, and that’s him meeting me. But I need to know.
“And what are you here for now?”
E maintains our eye contact as he takes his arms from the table and slides toward me in the booth, moving our coats to the opposite side of him.
When I don’t protest his actions, he gets closer until we’re side-by-side.
The heat of his body radiates into my very being, lighting my core, and quickening the wings of the butterflies that have refused to settle in my stomach since I met him.
He places one of his hands on my knee under the table and dips his head till his lips are near my ear. “To find someone for myself.”
I shiver at E’s declaration, my nipples tightening beneath my black V-neck sweater. Between his touch and his words, every thought of Ricky and my ruined relationship have vanished. I’ve barely thought about what brought me here since the moment I stepped into this bar.
I should be more upset about my breakup, a normal person would be, but I haven’t shed a single tear. I didn’t scream, or even get angry, not even during the hour I spent aimlessly driving before ending up here. Maybe I should be concerned about that.
Instead, all I can think about is this mysterious man, whose full name I don’t even know, making a move on me in a very public hotel bar. A matchmaker, no less, who doesn’t even live here.
That last thought clears my hormone-clouded brain for a moment, and I study the man before me, whose hand has not moved from my knee.
His eyes are hooded and staring at my lips.
We’re close enough that we could kiss, and as much as my body is craving for that to happen, he needs to know the truth of what brought me here.
“E,” I mutter.
His gaze shifts from my lips to my eyes. “Yes?”
“You don’t want me.”
The corner of his lip lifts lazily. It’s more attractive than it has any right to be.
“I don’t?”
“No.”
His hand trails upward to my thigh, and my cock twitches to life, blood flowing south.
“And why is that, Theo?”
His mouth is closer to mine now. His warm breath skittering over my lips.
“Because I just broke up with my boyfriend.”
To my surprise he doesn’t pull back, doesn’t balk. He looks into my eyes, and I swear it’s as if he’s staring into my soul, reading it and assessing it like it’s an open book laid flat on the table between us.
“Are you saying you’re a heartbroken soul?”
He’s recalling my question to him before. If he came here looking to set up lonely souls or heartbroken ones.
E’s other hand finds my chest, and he rests it over the top of my heart. It thuds so loudly I hear it in my ears. I’m positive he can feel it pounding beneath his touch.
“I—” I search for the answer. I know I should say yes, but I’m not heartbroken. Angry, yes. Annoyed at myself for moving in with Ricky so soon after dating, yes. But heartbroken? “No,” I say aloud.
“Your heart doesn’t feel broken.”
Said heart pounds louder under his palm as if to agree. “It probably should be.”
“You loved him?” He asks.
Did I love Ricky?
I close my eyes and take a quiet breath. I think about how we met—at a bar while I was out with some friends. We danced. We hooked up. We hooked up again. Eventually, I started spending nights at his place, and it felt easy to move in with him.
His condo is nice, bigger than my old apartment, and I liked having someone to come home to after work.
Someone to cook for and hang out with, even if we didn’t have much in common.
Eventually I blurted out that I loved him, and he said the words back.
If I’m being honest with myself, the declarations always felt hollow, but I convinced myself it was because we were still new.
That our love would only blossom with time.
I was wrong.
Now, sitting here with a stranger after being dumped, it’s all becoming clear. I never loved Ricky. I loved the idea of Ricky; the hole he filled in my heart and my life. But we were never going to last, and deep down I always knew that.
I open my eyes to meet E’s, even more aware of his touch and nearness. He smells of rich florals and spice, with a hint of vanilla. It’s incredible, unlike anything I’ve ever smelled. His hand still presses over my heart, and I find the weight of it soothing. Grounding me to this present moment.
“I don’t think I did, no,” I finally answer.
“But you’re upset over the breakup?”
“I think I’m more upset that I wasn’t the one to do it first. That I didn’t listen to my friends when they told me I shouldn’t move in with him yet.”
“That’s understandable.”
I search E’s eyes for any sign that what I’m saying has turned him off, but there is none. In fact, the weight of his hand has become stronger, fingers pulsing against my chest. Even in the low light, his pupils have dilated and his hand on my thigh has moved higher yet.
“E,” I whisper.
“Yes?”
“If you’re looking for more than a night…” I trail off.
He smiles. “I only want what you can give me.”
My stomach flips, and images of me and this beautiful man rolling in the sheets of a hotel bed fill my mind.
“You’d really be okay with being my rebound guy?”
He chuckles, his hand on my chest falling to my forearm. He pushes the sleeve of my sweater up, so his warm fingers can trace the veins of my arm. “I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”
“Aren’t you a matchmaker?”
He cocks his head in question.
“I mean, don’t you want more? Love? A relationship?”
“I want you.”
His words shoot through my heart like an arrow. He means what he said, I feel it in my soul.
“And you won’t expect more?” I ask him, though it feels like I’m really asking myself.
This man isn’t just hot. He’s listening, paying attention in a way Ricky never did. Hell, I never even told Ricky about my silly dream of owning a vineyard. Probably because I knew he’d laugh. But E didn’t laugh.
He strokes the skin of my forearm, pulling my attention back to him. “Like I said, I’ll be whatever you want me to be, Theo.”
Maybe I’ll end up wanting more. Maybe I won’t. I’ve had sex without feelings before. It’s not impossible.
“Even a one-night stand on Valentine’s Day?” I ask, though again, it feels like I’m asking myself.
For a split second, I think I see something flicker in E’s eyes, sadness maybe, but it’s gone so fast I convince myself I imagined it.
“Even that,” he says softly. “And if it helps, I’m passing through Grove City, remember?”
“Right,” I exhale.
E’s hands remain on my body as we stare into each other’s eyes, the sounds of the bar and the businessmen have long faded into the background.
Every time I take in a breath I get a hit of his unique scent.
The attraction between us is palpable. The longer he touches me, the more I fall under his spell, and my desire to have him builds.
If I was a smart man, I’d get up and leave. I’d go get that hotel room, turn on some bad TV, and order room service along with more wine. But I can’t.
“Do you want me to leave, Theo? I will if—”
I reach a hand up and press a finger to his lips to stop him from speaking.
“No,” I say sharply.
E kisses my finger, and I can’t stop myself from smiling. How is this man real?
I drop my hand and find his on my thigh. The one that’s dangerously close to my half-hard cock.
“Do you have a room?” I ask.
He nods. “Would you like to see it?”
“Yes, I would.”
E’s smile turns wolfish, but I grip his hand.
“What is it?” he asks.
“I need to know one thing first.”
“Anything.”
I glance at his bowed lips then to his blue eyes. “You’re single, right? No partners waiting for you in another state or country?”
His eyes sparkle in amusement. “None that I’m aware of.”
I smile with him, and he squeezes my leg in assurance.
“I’m single,” he reiterates. “I’m not a cheater, and never will be”
“Good,” I exhale. “Then show me your room.”