Chapter 5 Anna
Anna
“Anna, that guy keeps looking at you,” April whisper-shouts across the table.
“April, we’re in a packed bar. You don’t need to whisper. He can’t hear you,” I say, not bothering to look where she’s pointing.
A moment later, two men materialize before us, both dressed in crisp collared shirts and dress pants, their patent leather shoes gleaming.
One’s blond, the other has brown hair.
The blond leans in, slurring his words. “How’s someone as be-beautiful ash-youu not accompanied by a maaan?”
“I’m mentally unstable,” I deadpan.
His friend grabs his elbow and hauls him away without another word.
“Oooh! That guy’s doing it again,” April says, tapping my hand.
I already know that, because I can feel his eyes on me. And, like a damn magnet, I can’t seem to keep mine off him either.
“It’s decided,” Gemma declares. “He’s the one.”
My brows crease. “The one?”
“The one you’re going to sleep with.”
A flush sears my skin. “Don’t be a knob. I’m not sleeping with anyone. I already told you, I’m not ready.”
“Sweetheart, you’re going to have to get back on the horse at some point.” She gestures to him with her drink. “It might as well be him.”
“He is very handsome,” April chimes in.
“Is he? I didn’t notice,” I say, nonchalant.
A knowing smirk tugs at Gemma’s lips.
Fine, of course I noticed. The man is easily six-foot-something with luscious dark brown hair that looks like he’s run his fingers through it. He’s got a jaw that could cut through glass, an arse that you could bounce a quarter off, and thighs that could crack a watermelon.
He’s utterly sinful. And, judging from the way he holds my gaze when he catches me looking, flashing a cocky grin, he’s well aware of his effect on me.
But I don’t care. That’s not what I’m here for. I’m here to appease Gemma and April and prove I can be social. The first step to living my life again, and getting them off my back.
“Anna, come on,” Gemma says, pouting. “Do it for me.”
I glare at her. “Gemma, you said it yourself, my vagina’s probably stitched itself back together by now. She’s on a hiatus.”
“Then split her back open!”
“I don’t want to split her back open. I’m quite happy to leave her in retirement,” I snap.
“She isn’t a bloody superannuation fund!” Gemma spits back.
I lean in close. “If you don’t shut it, I’ll turn up to your flat in the middle of the night, locate one of your other damn crystals, and shove it right up your—”
“Ladies, another round,” a waitress interrupts brightly.
April’s forehead creases. “We didn’t order any drinks.”
The waitress beams. “The gentleman by the bar sent them over.”
The three of us crane our necks to see which gentleman she’s referring to.
My pulse kicks up. It’s him.
Our gazes collide and it’s as if someone struck a match, heat blazing between us. He offers a crooked smile, two gorgeous dimples pulling in as he lifts his glass in cheers.
I smile politely and raise mine in return before shifting my attention back to the girls. But my body betrays me, need thrumming through me.
“Well, well, well,” Gemma says, smugness dripping from her voice.
April rolls her lips to stop herself from smiling. “Oh, wait!” She points to her new drink before the waitress walks away. “This one doesn’t have alcohol, does it?”
“It’s a strawberry mocktail,” the waitress replies.
“Do you think he’s spiked this?” I mutter, eyeing the pink liquid.
April tuts me.
“I think you should go talk to him,” Gemma says as the waitress leaves.
“No thanks.” I lift the cocktail to my lips and take a long sip. Sweet baby Jesus, that’s good. “Just because some arrogant twat bought me a drink doesn’t mean I’m obligated to thank him for it.”
Gemma’s mouth opens but slams closed, a cheeky grin splitting her face. April’s eyes widen at something over my shoulder.
“What?” I ask, feeling a sudden presence behind me.
“I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, but arrogant twat’s a new one.” The deep Irish accent sends a tingle up my spine. I slowly turn around, having to crane my neck to look up at him. And there he is, in all his gorgeous glory.
And then I clock what I just said. Oh, crap. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were—”
“Right behind you? Yeah, I gathered that.” He bares his straight teeth in a wolfish smile and—Christ—my vagina betrays me, waking from her slumber.
Zip it back up, girl.
“Is there something I can help you with?” My words come out harsher than I intended.
“Nope,” he says, eyeing me over the rim of his beer as he takes a long pull.
When I don’t reply, one of the girls kicks my shin under the table.
“Ah, fuck!” I shout, reaching down to rub my leg.
“Are you all right?” my stranger asks.
Gemma and April glare at me expectantly.
I exhale, defeated. Mustering all the fucks I don’t have, I turn toward him.
“What are you here for tonight?” I ask, internally cringing at this measly attempt at conversation.
“Just here for some after-work drinks with the lads. And yourself? Enjoying a girls’ night out?”
“It’s Anna’s birthday,” April chimes in, pointing at me. His eyes, a piercing blue, light up.
“Anna.” My name rolls smoothly off his tongue. He extends his hand. “I’m Cooper. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
The moment our skin touches, fire floods through me.
“Happy birthday,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. His thumb brushes over my knuckles and I tear my hand away.
“Thanks,” I reply.
“Can I get you another drink, Anna?”
I lift my glass. “Got one already.”
Another kick lands against my shin and I jerk my head in Gemma’s direction. She shoots me a just go with it look.
I release a long sigh, turning to face Cooper. “Sure. I’d love another drink.”
Gemma looks far too pleased with herself as I follow him to the bar. Even with the extra boost from my heels, he towers over me. His shoulders are broad enough to get a decent hold of and—no, Anna. Mind out of the gutter.
His hand finds the small of my back as we make our way through the crowd. He nods at a group of men, two of the younger-looking guys busy chatting up a pair of blondes. These guys are all built like brick shithouses.
“Guys from work?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he replies.
“Jesus. What do you do? Test steroids?”
That earns me a genuine laugh. “Not quite.” I’m checking out the rest of the bar when he leans in close to ask, “What can I get you?”
I’m hit with his scent. Wood and spice. It’s so damn good, I want to breathe in deeper.
“I’ll have another cosmopolitan, thanks,” I say.
He orders two refills as my eyes wander over the room. It’s then I notice half the women are shooting daggers my way, and the other half are whispering behind their hands, staring in our direction. Odd. I check to make sure my nipple isn’t hanging out.
Cooper passes me my cocktail, leaning an elbow against the bar. “You don’t want to be here, do you?”
“Is it that obvious?” I say, my tone dry.
His brows furrow slightly, and I release a long exhale. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. I just… I didn’t want to come out tonight. I’m here because of them,” I say, gesturing to the girls.
I set my drink on the bar and square my shoulders. Screw it. “Look, I’m recently out of a long-term relationship. So if you’re just looking to get laid, then you’ve picked the wrong woman.”
His brows lift a little. Just when I think he’s about to serve me a flurry of excuses and bolt back to his mates—
“Okay,” he says, taking another slow sip of beer.
“Okay?”
He lifts a shoulder. “If you’re trying to scare me off, it’s not working.”
“I’m not sleeping with you,” I shoot back.
“I’d hope your standards were a bit higher than going home with a bloke just because he bought you a drink,” he replies.
“Then what do you want?” My lips press into a thin line as I look him up and down.
He shrugs. “To talk to you.”
I sigh. “I appreciate the drink, really, I do. I think you’re good-looking and all, I just… I’m not interested.”
A satisfied smile pulls at his lips.
“What?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious.
His dimples pop. “You think I’m good-looking.”
I scoff. “Seriously? That’s what you took away from everything I just said?”
His laugh is warm. “I just wanted to buy you a drink, Anna. I want you to have a good birthday. There are no expectations attached to the cosmopolitan, I promise.”
I stare at him, unblinking. “That’s it?”
His eyes darken. “Do you want there to be more, Anna?”
“You don’t want to sleep with me?”
He leans in closer, his voice dropping dangerously low. “Believe me.” His gaze travels slowly from my eyes to my lips. “There are lots of things I’d like to do with you, but sleeping isn’t one of them.”
Oh, shit. He’s brazen.
My mouth goes dry and for the first time in years, I feel a stir in my gut.
My eyes flick over his shoulder to where Gemma and April are observing us. He follows my line of sight, his mouth quirking into a smile when Gemma and April quickly snap back to their conversation.
“Well, I should probably get back to my friends. I think one of them just waved me over,” I lie.
“Come on.” He gives his head a sad shake. “You don’t seem like the kind of woman who hides behind excuses. If you want to go, just say it. Don’t lie to spare my feelings. I’m a big boy.”
Instead of responding, I take a sip of my cocktail. I’m suddenly wondering if I actually want him to walk away after I finish my drink.
“Well?” he presses, arching a dark brow.
My feet are rooted to the spot. I’m not sure what it is that Cooper is doing—it could simply be the way women watch him, with a predatory glint—but our brief encounter is working me up in a way my body hasn’t known for a long time.
“You haven’t left yet, or asked me to leave yet,” he says, grinning like he’s won.
He has.
“Would you like me to?”
“No. But I was hoping you’d make me work for it,” he says, lifting his beer to his lips.
“Work for what?”
“You.”
I huff a laugh, shaking my head. “All right, fine.” I wave a hand at him. “Woo me.”
He chokes on his beer, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth as he says, amused, “Woo you?”
Rolling my eyes, I stick my hand out. “Let’s start again, shall we? I’m Anna.”
His hand engulfs mine and he tugs me closer. “Cooper. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Cooper’s attention briefly drifts beyond me, to the rest of the room, and I watch his jaw tighten as his expression shifts. “Christ,” he mutters under his breath. “Half the bloody bar is staring at us.”
“I think they’re staring at you.” My forehead creases. “Are you famous or something?”
He gives a tired huff and the corner of his mouth twitches, but he doesn’t respond. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes as they peer into mine, and I realize we’re still holding hands. His thumb gently strokes my knuckles. I don’t break contact.
He closes the remaining distance between us, his voice dropping an octave. “Would you feel better if we went somewhere more private?”
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip as I consider.
I think about all the quiet moments I’ve had since Mason and I broke up.
They’re the ones that hurt the most. The drive home alone after being in a room full of happy couples—feeling overjoyed for them, but painfully aware that you’re going home to silence.
Watching a movie that makes you laugh and realizing there’s no one to share the joke with.
Or cooking a meal that turns out perfectly, only for the excitement to fade the second you sit down to eat it alone.
Sure, I might not be ready for anything serious, but that doesn’t mean I want to go home to the quiet. It doesn’t mean that I’m not ready to feel something again. Tonight doesn’t have to mean anything more than this moment. I’ve been honest about where I’m at and he’s still here, to his credit.
Maybe I don’t want to go home alone tonight.
Maybe what I need is to feel desired again. To remember what it’s like to be wanted. To feel alive.
“Fuck it,” I say, nodding in agreement. “Why not.”