Chapter 5
5
Lis
I feel his gaze on me as I walk across the bar, searing into my back as I leave for home.
I can still feel the way his fingers danced across the inside of my wrist caressing—sending electric heat through my veins.
The way his voice washed over me as we talked of everything and nothing at all. Deep and a little smoky like a good bourbon, I want to drink it in. Talking with him tonight—his focus solely on me—was like I was the most interesting person he’d ever spoken to. Like I was important. I don’t know the last time I felt that.
I slide my car up to the curb right in front of my building, grab my bag from the back seat and check for cars before getting out. There’s not a lot I like about being all alone this week, but I’m not ever going to complain about padding my checking account or a good parking spot.
Normally Francie watches to make sure I get home safe but he was acting ten different kinds of twitchy and weird tonight. I pull out my phone as I pop up the steps to my apartment and dial the number for McBride’s. “Hey, Finn. It’s Lis, can I talk to Francie for a minute?”
“Have to wait your turn. He’s having a go at Aidan just now.” Finn’s obviously enjoying not being on the receiving end of a tirade for a change. I love Finn, but that boy is a mess. “O’ course, Aidan might like an interruption. Are you up for swooping in to save your man?”
“What? Why is… Just, yeah. Tell Francie I need to talk to him.” I hear harsh words filtering through the noise in the background before Francie jumps Finn’s shit for interrupting, tearing into him, until I hear…my name. They get freakishly quiet and my heart pounds against my ribs. The shuffling of the phone, the hiss of static as it changes hands, and muffled warnings make their way through to me.
“What can I do for you, love? You’re safe home?” It’s not normally awkward when I call Francie, but tonight this is for sure. His words are terse and distracted.
I stumble through telling him I’m fine—that I wasn’t murdered in the few blocks home. It suddenly makes sense—the garbled phrases, the tone of what I heard.
I steel myself with a deep breath and launch into it. “I know you’re looking out for me, and you know I appreciate it, but…”
“Lisbeth darlin’, I’m setting the boy to rights. He’ll not be bothering you again, love.”
He full-named me.
This is serious.
“Francie, we’re going out to dinner tomorrow night. He wasn’t bothering me at all. Last week you asked for my thoughts on him, so…”
“No, you’re not. No. He’s a shift to work tomorrow night so he won’t be available.” Where the hell is this coming from?
“Is he married?”
“No.”
“Is he a murderer?”
“No, Lisbeth.” Francie huffs, obviously frustrated with me. “I’m looking out for you and…”
“Is it my heart in general or is Aidan the problem?” My phone pings with a message distracting me from Francie’s assurances that it’s me he’s worried about.
Unknown #: I’ve switched shifts with Jimmy. Just ignore Francie.
L: Aidan?
Unknown #: Yeah. Just tell him you understand and let him go. I’ll take the verbal lashing and see you tomorrow.
Unknown #: 7pm
I stare at my phone trying to think of a response, but I’m at a loss.
Unknown #: Sleep well, love.
I’m finally able to get off the phone after giving Francis the required, yes, I understand. With a freshly poured glass of wine, I head in for a long hot soak in the bath. The bubbles will relax me, or maybe the wine will, but there aren’t many things that a hot steamy bubble bath won’t make better. And while the tub fills with lavender-scented bubbles, I make sure to save Aidan’s number to my contacts.
The night bartender was supposed to be here an hour and a half ago. His car trouble means I’ve done all the dinner shift prep, restocked the beer coolers, and I no longer have time to buy something new to wear tonight. With both blenders whirring, a blown keg that needs to be replaced, and the clock ticking down the minutes, I’m about to come unglued.
I’m not normally a bitch, but I just can’t today. Can’t even.
“Let’s get caught up and then you can run.” My boss, Jenna, slides behind the bar and grabs a stack of drink orders. “Dumbshit needs to know he can’t take advantage of you like this.”
I’ve been working for her since high school, bussing tables until she needed another server. When a spot opened behind the bar, she gave me the chance. I get the new keg tapped and pour out the daiquiris, moving on to the next order up.
A few minutes later, we’re caught up and Jenna pushes me out from behind the bar. “Go—I’ve got this. Have fun, Lissy.” She hands me my bag after upending my tip jar into it.
“Thanks, Jenna. You sure this is okay?” She’s been so tired lately, I feel really bad leaving her like this.
“I’m good.” She stares past me to tonight’s bartender ambling through the front door looking like he just got out of bed. The sound of Jenna ripping into him follows as I hop down the stairs, fading as the door shuts behind me.
I haven’t heard much from Gracyn since she left for the beach and I need her desperately right now. She’s posted a few pictures on her Instagram, but has been pretty quiet—for her. Something’s up, but I have a feeling, it’s gonna take a bottle of wine to figure it out when she gets back to town this weekend.
I text her really quick, hoping she’s available now—Lord knows, she might decide in the middle of my dinner that she needs to talk to me.
L: Hey…you there? I need to borrow clothes.
G: Sure. Whatcha got going?
L: Dinner?
G: Who with?
L: Aidan. From McBride’s. Chatted last night. He’s sweet.
G: Mhmmm. Make good choices. All of that…
L: Thnx. Talk later?
I check when I get home and again when I get out of the shower but she doesn’t text back.
My plans for a glass of wine while I straighten my hair and YouTube makeup tutorials are replaced with half-dried wild waves spilling down my back and a quick swipe of mascara.
I send up a prayer that Gracyn didn’t take her black knit swing dress with her as I rifle through her overflowing closet. I have no idea where we’re going tonight, but that dress is my favorite and I can dress it up or down easily enough, depending on what Aidan has on.
Fuck, fuck, fuck .
He’s going to be here soon.
Finally, in the very back of her closet, I find the dress and pull it over my head while running back to my room for shoes. Taupe ankle boots or spiky heels—I grab both and set them by the front door.
After another coat of mascara, a little blush, and some lip gloss, I step back, trying to see myself as Aidan will. I haven’t been on a first date in more than four years, and my nerves are just kicking in to full riot mode. I nearly jump out of my skin when I hear a knock at the door.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm myself, but my heart slams in my chest as I swing the door open.
Aidan’s black hair is still damp from his shower or maybe he took the time to style it. The curve of his lips, the stormy night of his eyes. The scruff on his jaw. I want to stand here and admire him, commit everything to memory—and maybe mess him up just a little.
His crisp white shirt stretches across his shoulders, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing the pure strength of his forearms. My eyes travel down his body taking in the way his dress pants fit snugly to his hips and thighs. He’s even polished his shoes—totally an odd thing to notice but Rob would never have bothered with that. He’d have bought new ones.
Aidan cares how he looks, more than just a change of clothes and spray of cologne.
I get caught staring and feel a hot blush searing my cheeks. I bite at my lip and meet his smiling glance as I try to cover this awkward feeling. “You look great.” His smile crinkles the corner of his eyes calming my inner mess.
“Thanks. You’re sure, then, or do you want to take another look before we go?” he teases and reaches for the jacket I threw over the back of the couch. I slide my feet into my heels and laugh.
As he helps me slip into my jacket, he runs his fingers lightly down my arms—leaving a trail of goose bumps—until his fingers find the inside of my wrists. His touch there sends tingles through my entire body; it takes everything I have not to shudder. “Shall we go?” he rasps out as he reaches for the door sliding his other hand to my lower back, guiding me out.