Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
RACHEL
I can tell my run-away-from-my-problems comment bothered Wyatt, for whatever reason.
His broody silence after I said it tells me he doesn’t approve, and once Becky comes by with our fresh beers, he grabs his and practically chugs it.
Reminding me of myself when Paige and I first got here.
Drowning his problems in alcohol, perhaps?
I know nothing about this man, and despite my irritation with him, I still . . . want to know more.
I’m dying to know more, actually, which is silly. He’s not my type. Not even close to my type.
Maybe that’s the appeal.
As covertly as possible, I study him, grateful that he’s averted his body away from mine, moodily staring off into the distance as he occasionally takes a sip of his beer.
I had no idea watching a man drink could be sexy, but here I am, resting my elbow on the table and propping my chin on my curled fist, staring unabashedly at him.
Maybe it’s the three—or was it four?—beers I’ve downed, but my goodness, the man is attractive.
I forget all about my earlier insults I hurled at him, admiring his features.
That dark-hair, dark-eyes thing he’s got going on with the sexy mustache, along with the broody quietness, is making certain parts of my body tingle.
And he is definitely unlike any man I’ve ever been drawn to.
Devastatingly handsome but not in a pretty way, which is my usual type.
Edmund had a better skin regimen than I did, but that’s not the point.
Wyatt is the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome.
That jawline of his is seriously sexy, and there’s a bit of stubble there, making me wonder if it’s rough to the touch.
Offset by the mustache, which looks soft.
Will I ever get the chance to touch his face?
Maybe he could put those big hands of his on my face, or any of my other body parts . . .
The tingling intensifies at the prospect.
He slowly glances in my direction, doing a double take when he catches me staring.
I don’t even care that I got caught. I keep looking, flashing him a goofy smile, knowing most definitely it’s the alcohol making me act this way.
He could be just the distraction I need to forget about what Edmund did to me, but if all it takes is a few beers and a new handsome man in my life to help me forget my heartache, then maybe I was never that into Edmund in the first place, hmm?
“You’re staring,” Wyatt says, his lips curling up in what appears to be faint amusement. “You drunk?”
I sit up straight, trying to remain dignified. Grateful I don’t fall off the barstool. “Maybe.”
“Is that why you’re staring at me?”
“You’re actually very . . . handsome.” I rest my fingers over my lips the moment the words leave me, embarrassed. I can feel my face go hot, and wow, did I say that out loud?
“You think so?” He arches a brow, a rather sexy move that I’ve never found appealing before in my life, and all I can do is nod, reaching for my beer, disappointed to find it empty.
“Are you looking for compliments?” Ouch, that was bitchy, but he seems completely unfazed by my question.
“No.” He stretches the word out, his gaze dropping to my lips for the briefest moment. “I will confess I haven’t had a woman tell me I’m handsome for a long time, beyond my mother.”
Aw, that’s sweet. My heart flutters at the confession.
“You’re close to your mother?”
“I’m close with my entire family.”
“Including your dimwit brother?” It’s my turn to arch a brow.
The surprised look on Wyatt’s face transforms into a smile, and be still my freaking heart. When he smiles like that, he is devastating in the best way. “I thought I was the only one who noticed.”
I lean in closer, enjoying our coconspirator roles. “They’re totally in denial about their feelings. Why?”
“My brother is terrified the entire town will come for him if he breaks her heart.” He also leans in closer, his arm brushing against mine, making me shiver. Making me wish he would do that again. “He probably would do that too. Break her heart.”
“From what I can tell, she’s the sweetest person alive. You think he would be that careless?” I’m horrified, but men aren’t always the smartest when it comes to matters of the heart.
“More like clueless. He likes to pretend that he can’t be with her.
She truly is the town sweetheart, and that’s pretty intimidating.
She’s adored by everyone. The entire community is protective of her, and the moment he hurts her feelings or, worse, ends the relationship? Forget it. He turns into the enemy.”
I’m nodding, absorbing his explanation. It makes sense. I assume the liquor he’s consumed is making him more talkative—and more relaxed. “And what do you think of the town sweetheart?”
“I’ve known her forever. She’s volunteered at the senior citizens’ club since she was ten.
Babysat everyone’s kids in the neighborhood, starting when she was around twelve.
Always willing to lend a helping hand. She’s also beautiful, I can’t lie.
But she isn’t for me.” His gaze never strays from mine as he says, “My heart currently only has room for one female at the moment.”
I frown, pulling away some to break the connection that was brewing between us. Is he trying to tell me something? I know he’s not referring to me. He barely knows me. When realization dawns, I don’t feel as confused or depressed about it. I know exactly who he’s referring to.
“Right. Totally understandable.” I nod, like I know so much about being a parent. “What’s your daughter like?”
It’s his turn to lean away from me, that wall he let down only minutes ago sliding right back up. Looks like I’ve touched on a sensitive subject. “She’s . . . sweet.”
“Is she with her mom tonight?” It’s none of my business, but I have to ask.
He pauses for a moment, as if contemplating how he should answer. “Her mom isn’t in the picture.”
“Oh.” I’m dying to know what happened. Divorce? Most likely. Death? Is he pining away for the dead love of his life?
God, I hope not.
Wait a minute. Why would I even feel that way? I’m not sticking around this place. I’ll probably be gone by tomorrow night.
“Yeah. Oh.” He shakes his head, staring ahead as he takes a swig of his beer. “I don’t usually like talking about my personal life.”
“You’re really not.” When he glances in my direction, his brows lowered in confusion, I offer him a smile. “You haven’t shared that much information.”
“This feels big for me.”
“Well, congratulations.” My smile grows. “I got you to open up.”
I hold up my beer bottle, and he clinks his against mine, his smile friendly but his gaze distant.
Ugh. Why am I attracted to unattainable men?
* * *
Paige and I are at least four beers in, and I’m considering a fifth when the guys cut us off like they’re our dads, which isn’t sexy. As a matter of fact, it’s downright annoying.
“No more for any of us,” Nate tells Becky when she swings by our table yet again. “And these girls are finished for the night.”
“Totally unfair.” Paige hits him in the arm and then shakes her fingers out like she hurt herself. “God, your muscles are hard.”
I want to say something inappropriate, like I bet that’s not the only thing that’s hard, but I remain quiet.
It’s the alcohol that’s coursing through my veins and making me feel feisty in the moment.
Or maybe not. I used to be feisty. I used to call everyone out on their shit, and I wouldn’t put up with anything. What happened to me?
“Just bring us the check when you get a chance, Becky,” Wyatt says, his voice low, and I start talking right over him.
“Bring me the check, please, Becky.” I glance over at Wyatt, who’s frowning. What a surprise. I guess Captain Grumpy Pants is back. “I’m going to pay for everyone’s drinks tonight.”
“You don’t have to—” Wyatt starts, but I cut him off.
“I want to.” I smile at Becky, and she nods in response.
“I’ll be right back with the bill.”
The bar is clearing out, and I check my phone for what feels like the first time tonight.
There are no texts. No notifications that someone commented on one of my posts or sent me a DM, and normally that would make me depressed.
Like no one cares about me. But tonight, it feels kind of good, not being so fixated on my phone all the time.
Like I’m actually living my real life instead.
Becky returns with the tab and one of those portable card readers, and I dig my credit card out of the tiny white Chanel crossbody bag I brought with me tonight, handing the card to her.
She runs it, and the reader beeps, causing Becky to frown, her gaze lifting to mine. “It declined your card, honey.”
“Try it again.” My stomach twists, and I tell myself it’s fine. This happens on occasion, especially when I’m traveling. “Please.”
She runs it again, and it’s declined. Again.
“No worries! I have another card.” I fish out the card my dad told me I’m only supposed to use for emergencies and hand it to Becky.
The rest of the table has gone silent, Paige’s face filled with sympathy.
Nate and Wyatt start making idle conversation because I’m sure they’re uncomfortable with what’s unfolding.
I know I am.
“Sorry, hon. That card didn’t go through either.” The pity in Becky’s eyes is enough to make me want to puke, and I’m about to ask her to try yet again when Wyatt starts talking.
“I’ll take care of it.” He reaches for his back pocket, pulling out his wallet and handing Becky a credit card.
“No, I—”
“Let me.” His tone is firm. “We’ll figure it out later.”
“I’ll Venmo you right now,” Nate says, tapping away at his phone. The distinct cash-register sound rings from Wyatt’s phone.
“How about I pay you back in babysitting,” Paige offers, and Wyatt laughs.
“Are you serious?”