Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
I hate wine, but I hate the idea of going home alone again even worse. I never thought my quaint little house would give me the creeps, but it hasn’t felt like home since the night it was broken into. I shudder at the realization of what could’ve happened to me had I not stayed late at work that evening.
“Drinks,” Parker insists. “You need to live a little. You’ll never find a man if you stay holed up at home all the time.”
“I’m not looking for a man,” I remind her. “And I suggested your place not mine. That’s a change of scenery for me. I have no interest in a bar.”
And it’s true. She always comes to my place because before the break-in, I never wanted to leave. I was comfortable in my space. I hate that someone took that from me.
“You’re going to have to get over your fear of being around people.”
“I’m not afraid to be around people. You make me sound agoraphobic. I don’t like loud places, especially ones where people are drinking and acting like idiots.”
“You’ve been going to the wrong places.”
“I’ve been going to the places you drag me to,” I remind her.
She gives me a quick smile and a simple shake of her head as if I’m acting ridiculous. I know there are lots of people like me in the world. Not wanting to be in a crowd or having to yell over loud music isn’t a concept I created.
“I read reviews online about this little place down the street. You may find that you like it. Come on.”
Begrudgingly, I follow her to the car. The gun range is somewhat isolated on the edge of town, so walking isn’t an option. It probably wouldn’t be safe either.
“Oh, look!” Parker beams with her finger pointing to the front of the bar as we get out of the car. “It’s half-priced drinks for ladies’ night, so that means mostly women.”
Maybe she thinks I’m an idiot, but I’m well aware that ladies’ night means the men come out in full force in hopes of flirting with the women trying to get a discounted drink. We’ve been down this road before.
I don’t want to ruin her fun, so I plaster the best fake smile I can manage and follow her inside.
The place is small, and thankfully the music isn’t playing very loudly. I’d say the ratio of men to women is about equal, and although most people are talking and having a good time in small groups, several heads turn in our direction when we step over the threshold.
This is another thing I’m used to. Parker turns heads with her tall, svelte frame, long blond hair, and pouty lips, and if she doesn’t catch someone’s attention with all of that, they’re a goner once they look into her stormy-gray eyes.
“I like this place already,” she says with a wide smile as we cross the room and head to the bar. “Do you want a beer?”
I tilt my head and roll me eyes.
“Two martinis,” she tells the bartender, ordering our preferred drinks before turning back to look at me. “I’m only having one, but feel free to cut loose.”
“I have work tomorrow.”
We wait patiently for our drink order, Parker turning around to scope out the people around us while I just focus on her. I don’t need to make eye contact with anyone because it could lead to an awkward conversation. I struggle with my brain-to-mouth filter when I’m in a situation I’m not enjoying, and I’m quick to say something to get myself out of it.
The last time we ended up at a place like this and a guy approached me while Parker was in the restroom, he introduced himself and my response was, “Umm, no.”
It came across as extremely rude, and although I wanted to be left alone, I wasn’t intentionally meaning to sound like a complete stuck-up bitch. From the four-letter words he tossed my way before moving on to the next woman sitting alone, that’s exactly how he saw me.
“They should have a ladies’ only night,” I tell her as the bartender slides us our drinks.
“They do at The Cherry Stem.” Parker lifts her drink to her mouth, winking at me over the rim.
“That’s a gay bar.”
“Exactly.”
“My point is these places would appeal to me more if I could come in and have a drink without being bothered.”
She gives me a rueful smile. “Keep that look on your face and you won’t have to worry about it. That snarl screams unapproachable.”
“Maybe I should hang out with ugly friends, and then I wouldn’t have to worry about the look on my face.”
She scoffs. “Are you trying to imply that you’re ugly, too? Because I don’t have ugly friends. Let’s find a table.”
I point to an empty one in the corner but leave it to Parker to lead us to one that’s more centered in the room.