Chapter 1 #2
I blow out a loud breath, having an answer for her question that is a distant version of the truth at the ready, because it’s not the first time I’ve been asked.
“Well, it’s a very interesting story, really.
All the good coffee shops in town close early, and I like it here.
Even if Beau, the owner, is grumpy as hell and can’t make coffee taste like anything other than rat piss.
But Josie made this one, and it’s delicious.
” I punctuate my point by taking a sip, and her amber eyes track my every movement as she pulls her lips between her teeth.
“That’s… the least interesting thing I’ve ever heard.
” She purses her lips, holding back a smile.
“Wow. I mean, did I fall asleep for a second there? I think I might have.” She fakes a loud yawn, and what I know is a pathetically goofy smile on my face only grows as she continues, “You owe me a better story. I gave you porn noises and haunted dolls, man. This isn’t even close to fair.
” She sighs, feigning exasperation as her dimple gives her away.
She doesn’t seem capable of fighting off her smile any more than I am, and I really like that.
I’ve never met a woman at Beau’s Bar before.
Never wanted to. I come here for peace and quiet, and if I want someone to hook up with, I head to the touristy places in town.
It doesn’t normally take more than an hour before someone is eyeing my muddy boots, asking what I do for a living, and wondering just how well I know how to ride.
It’s always some version of the same lame innuendo, but I like the predictability of it all.
They want to save a horse and ride a cowboy—which I most certainly am not, but don’t bother to correct—and I want…
well… sex. Specifically, with someone I don’t have to see ever again.
Someone who doesn’t have to carry any of my burdens, because no one should have to.
I focus back on the surprisingly enticing woman next to me, whose sparkling eyes look like golden coins.
“Hate to break it to you, tesouro.” The nickname slips out, either because of the song or those damn eyes I’m fascinated by.
Thankfully, they’re not so distracting that I can’t finish my thought.
“But I’m a pretty boring guy.” Not a lie.
I don’t do much outside of work and this.
Occasionally, I might see one of my siblings, but the guilt, shame, and fear of letting more people down mostly keeps me away from my family—they don’t deserve any of my bullshit either.
My friend and sponsor would vehemently disagree with me, but he’s been trying to convince me to make amends with my family for years, and I haven’t budged yet.
“Is that so?” she asks, eyes squinting with disbelief.
Clearing my throat as I force myself not to dwell on the things I can’t fix right now, I go on, “I like having a simple life. Simple routines. And I’m not ashamed to admit that curling up with my dog at the end of the day with a good book is an ideal night for me.
” More truths I don’t normally share, because if you tell a woman you have a pet, they’ll want to meet it.
I don’t bring anyone to the farmhouse. Ever.
For a multitude of reasons. Though I’m sure Luther would love a new friend to play with.
“What kinds of books?” Her eyes light up, and the question takes me by surprise. I expected her to ask about the dog, and since I never get to talk about books with anyone, my answer slips out easily.
“Thrillers, mostly.” I scratch the back of my neck, leaving out the fact that occasionally I borrow one of Raf’s romance novels.
The mystery woman next to me raises her brows, silently asking me to elaborate.
“But sometimes it’s nice to read something lighter, I guess, you know?
” At the unsure tone in my voice, Josie, who’s been pretending not to listen as she putters around behind the bar, covers up a laugh with a cough. She’s a menace.
Biting her lip thoughtfully, my new companion shakes her head.
“Well, not really, no. I don’t even remember the last time I read something that wasn’t educational or self-help or something.
” Coming out of most people, that sentence might sound condescending or judgmental, but she says it almost like she’s upset at the fact she just stated about herself.
Her lips momentarily turn into a frown. “I wouldn’t even know what I like to read when it comes to fiction, to be honest, but I think I’d like to find out.
” A small smile tugs at one side of her mouth as her eyes meet mine again, hope written across what is probably the prettiest face I’ve ever seen. “Can you recommend anything?”
I don’t even hesitate. I say the first thing that comes to my mind, which isn’t usually the best choice.
“Karina Halle has a great dark, sort of gothic, and paranormal book called Grave Matter. It’s a little science-y, and there’s a great twist. It takes place in British Columbia.
” Fuck. That book is also technically a romance. It definitely has explicit sex scenes.
Shit.
I just recommended smut to a woman whose first name I don’t know.
Is that inappropriate? I don’t know what the etiquette on stuff like this is.
Without questioning anything else about the book, because why would she, she slides her phone out of her back pocket and mouths the title as she types.
The way her lips move is distractingly sexy.
And adorable. “Got it.” Her tone is triumphant.
“I wonder if that cool outdoor bookstore will have it,” she says mostly to herself. “Anyway, thanks…”
“Arthur,” I finish. Again, my mouth works faster than my brain, and before I know it, so does my hand, because it’s outstretched.
She places her small, delicate hand in my callused one, and I hold my breath as the simple touch travels from the tips of my fingers and straight to my chest like a bolt of lightning on a skyscraper.
“Alice,” she says softly, and only then do I exhale.
Alice, I repeat in my mind.
“It’s nice to meet you, Arthur.”