Chapter 4
Chapter Four
ALLISON
Four Years Ago, Philadelphia
Allison tugged at her skirt as she stood in the loud bar’s entryway.
You can do this.
Go be a cool, single girl.
Never mind that she’d never been a cool girl and she hadn’t been single in fifteen years.
The chatter of the fancy bar swirled around her like a flock of bats.
What is a group of bats even called? A murder? No, those are crows. Maybe I should go back to my hotel room and look it up in my pajamas.
“Table for one?” the impossibly young hostess said to her.
Were they letting middle schoolers work bar jobs now?
“No, I’m, um. Going to the bar?” Allison said, unsure.
“What?” the hostess yelled, leaning in.
“Bar,” Allison said too loudly, and the hostess winced, all twenty years of her scuttling away from Allison like she was an old, horned dragon and the hostess was a maiden being sacrificed.
Allison tugged her skirt down again as she slowly made her way to the bar, seeing eyes catch her 6’3” height in heels.
She had one mission tonight: have her first ever one-night stand and finally move on.
Just check the item off her bucket list.
She’d gone on a few dates in Cooperstown since her separation from Keith had started, but they’d been duds. She’d even mustered up the courage to ask out the hot flower farmer that sourced her flower shop’s roses, but he’d apparently already fallen in love.
Lucky woman.
Philly, though…in Philly, you could be anonymous.
A lone bar stool was open in the crowd. Low-hanging Edison bulbs hung from the rafters, and top-shelf liquor lined the U-shaped bar.
Allison sat, not knowing what to do with herself. She perfectly aligned her sparkly clutch with the bar’s edge.
Do I order a drink?
No, someone can’t buy you a drink if you already have one.
I should have googled ‘how to be a single, tall woman at a bar when awkward and needing a one-night stand.’
So…I’ll just sit here.
And wait.
She looked over her shoulder, trying on the mask of courage she’d decided she’d wear tonight.
Cool Sexy Girl doesn’t care that no one is paying attention to her, not even the bartenders.
The bar was nice. A place professionals went after a long day at the office. Men slouched in their long-sleeve shirts; women stood in high heels and laughed at their jokes. A sea of navy sweaters and puffy vests and black blazers surrounded her.
I look stupid. She’d worn her burnt-orange mushroom dress. She’d convinced herself that it did make her look hot and it didn’t matter that tiny little foxes were on it, peeking out from behind the mushrooms. Keith had always made fun of her when she’d worn it, but she liked it, damnit.
It was incredibly important that someone thought she was sexy enough to want to bang her while wearing her mushroom dress.
To reclaim it for herself.
She stood up straight and scratched at her nose ring. It was still sore where she’d had it pierced a month ago.
At the ripe old age of thirty-three.
Better late than still married to Keith.
As she tossed her long blonde hair over her shoulder, she made eye contact with a guy. He smiled at her.
He had a scruffy beard and wore a puffer vest over a standard-issue blue plaid shirt. He was…cute?
Cute enough.
He smiled like they shared a secret and sauntered over to her, yelling something to his friends over his shoulder.
He was fairly tall too. Almost as tall as her.
It was hard being a tall girl when you were self-conscious about your size. She wished she could be one of those girls who could confidently date a hot, short guy. But she felt like a behemoth mountain troll next to them.
It was her baggage, but she hadn’t been able to shake it since she’d been 5’9” in fourth grade.
She’d wanted to feel dainty for once in her whole. Fucking. Life.
Scruffy Puffer Vest approached her. “Hey,” he said. “I like your hair.”
Allison smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Thanks, I like your…uh, vest.”
“Can I buy you a drink?”
It’s happening! Flirt! Maybe this will be the one! Allison smiled wider. “Just for having pretty hair?”
“What?” the guy yelled, confused, leaning into her.
“Nothing. White wine, thanks.”
She didn’t even like white wine.
She liked girly drinks that took way too long to make, but she wouldn’t do that to the bartender tonight.
Cool Sexy Girl drank white wine. Probably even had a favorite type beyond…white.
“I’m Travis.” He leaned in and brushed a kiss on her cheek.
Allison instantly felt a yuck.
Did cool girls nod when they said hello? “Allison.” Nod, nod, nod.
Wait, stop nodding now. Too many nods.
“Nice, I’ll call you Allie.”
“I actually hate nicknames—”
But Travis leaned in to put in their order. The bartender was shockingly quick and slid them back immediately.
Go time. She cheersed Travis. “Thanks for the drink, Travis. What do you do for—”
“This mean you’ll suck my cock now?” Travis yelled into her ear over the din.
Allison pulled back, a nervous laugh on her lips. Maybe she misheard him. She leaned forward to ask, “What did you say?”
“This mean you’ll suck my cock now?” He laughed in his beer.
Allison saw red.
No.
She was Cool Sexy Girl having a night out.
This turdface wasn’t going to ruin it.
Grabbing her full glass of wine, she tossed the wine at Travis’s face.
But—oh no—he ducked and the man behind him got an Ice Bucket Challenge-style soaking of chardonnay.
Allison gasped in horror, recoiling at what she’d just done.
Travis was laughing, ducking out of the situation, but the back of his puffer vest was caught by the guy dripping with wine.
The dripping man stood, his broad shoulders easily filling the small space that Travis had vacated. He was a tower of a man, and Travis looked up at him with horror-struck eyes.
“What did you say to her?” The baritone of the man’s voice echoed into Allison’s chest.
“Ugh….I, um,” Travis stuttered.
The dark-eyed, dark-haired bear of a man glowered, a drop of wine hanging off his nose and landing with a splat onto Travis’s cheek. “Try again.”
“S-s-sorry, didn’t mean it, Allie,” Travis stuttered, and the man released him.
Allison handed her white knight two handfuls of napkins. Enough for three family picnics. Practically the whole stack.
The man smiled at her and took a few. “Thanks.”
She dabbed at his dress shirt. “I’m so, so, so, so sorry. He ducked.”
“Oh, did he? Hadn’t noticed,” the man said dryly. His lips twitched, humor now in his eyes, and Allison smiled with him. “You can do way better than whatever that was.”
Allison grabbed more napkins. “The guy?”
The man licked his lips and grimaced. “No, the wine. The guy, too, I guess.”
She dabbed worriedly at his very nice dress shirt. “If I can get most of the liquid out, it might not stain.”
A bear-paw-like hand covered hers, stilling it. “It’s fine. I have a great dry cleaner. She’ll love the challenge.”
His hand was warm over hers, but she dropped it, feeling embarrassed. “Please let me buy you a drink to apologize,” she said.
He nodded with a smile. “As long as you don’t ask me to suck anything, then sure. Wells,” he said over her laughter and stuck out his hand.
She grasped it. The warm mitt of his hand enveloped hers.
A flutter landed in her stomach. He was taller than her in heels, and his hand felt so…nice. Perfect. Comfortable.
Could a hand even be comfortable?
“Tally? Is that what he said your name was?” Wells asked.
Much better than Allison. Allison was so boring. So forgettable. She wanted a new alter ego for tonight.
She smiled. “Yes, Tally.”
They sat back down at the bar.
“So you’re a fan of mushrooms?”
She cocked her head, completely confused.
He flounced the edge of her long sleeve.
“Oh. Right.” She’d completely forgotten. “Yes. Or rather, I love a theme. A print.”
“Sounds artistic. Are—oh wait, hey, Kyle?” Wells flagged down the bartender. “Could we get a…” He licked his lips. “Chardonnay?” He looked at her, trying to guess the wine.
“Actually,” Allison said, taking a leap of faith since she was paying. “Could I have a mojito? A double?” She had a hard time asking for what she wanted from others. Not taking up too much space. It was easier when she was paying.
Wells held up two fingers, and the bartender nodded.
“I don’t even like wine,” Allison admitted, embarrassed at herself.
“Good thing you didn’t have to drink it.” Wells turned to her, spreading his thighs, focusing all his attention on her. Physically opening himself up for her to turn towards him, but not invading her space. “So, you throw drinks in faces around here regularly?”
Allison smiled, liking his teasing. “I am sorry.”
Humor danced in his eyes as they roamed her face. “I know you are. Though the look on your face was priceless. Just sheer, dumbstruck horror.” He pulled a face and she cackled at his impression of her.
“You’re an intimidating guy.”
This guy had to be part bear. He had a shock of thick auburn hair, a broad, pillowy chest, barrel belly, and a five-o’clock shadow that looked more like it was nineteen-o’clock.
The bartender spun two cocktails toward them. Wells waved away her cash. “On me. Please.”
“No,” she said, aghast. “I wouldn’t have ordered it if I thought you were buying.”
He pushed the large mojito toward her. “Tally, I never let a beautiful woman pay for drinks…until the second date.”
A laugh at the absurdity of what he was saying caught her by surprise. “Does that really work?”
His eyes twinkled at her. “More times than you’d think. Is it working now?’
“Pfft. No.” She sipped her mojito, unable to take her eyes off of him.
Maybe.
They sat for an hour at the bar, relaying dating stories. Under no circumstances was she mentioning tonight that she was getting divorced. She was Cool Sexy Girl, who was only in Philly for a few days for work as a design consultant.
Not a small-town florist whose life was crumbling in the small town she was raised in, here to mediate her divorce.