Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
My stomach lurches and tightens as I make my way closer to the bar. Even pulling up, I spot just two trucks in the parking lot, and I still have to literally give myself a fucking pep talk before walking in. I pull open the door and take a look around. To the right side looks like pool tables, to the left looks like a restaurant, and because I don’t want to seem like I stick out, the only thing I can do is walk toward the bar on the other side.
I spot maybe five people in this bar, and if they weren’t all staring at me, I would turn and walk the fuck out of here. Instead, I pull out a stool and sit down, texting Zoey.
Me: There is fucking no one here. I’m never listening to you again.
“Hi.” I look up to see the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my life, literally. His black hair is pushed back away from his face. The sides are cut a bit shorter but it looks like it’s longer in the back. His blue eyes light up, even in the dimness of the bar, and his beard makes him look rugged and wild. “What can I get for you?” I swear to God I lose all the words in my vocabulary.
Think of something flirty to say, my head screams at me. “What does one drink when we want to forget about everything?” I put my phone on the bar.
He raises his eyebrows at me and tries to hide the smirk. “I have Jim or Jack?”
“Eeny, meeny, miny, moe,” I joke with him, trying hard not to look and sound like an idiot as I smile at him. “Dealer’s choice.” What the fuck, I groan inwardly, why would I say dealer’s choice?
He nods, turning to the bottles behind him and grabbing a glass. “On the rocks or neat?”
I tilt my head to the side and think about it briefly. “I’m going to go on the rocks so I don’t taste how gross it is.” He laughs at my joke, making his eyes crinkle at the sides. He walks over, throwing a round ice cube into the glass and then pouring two fingers’ worth. I take the time to check out his arms flexing when he picks up the bottle, and I swear my mouth waters.
He walks back to me. “Here you go.” He tosses the coaster onto the bar before putting the glass on it.
“Thank you.” I nod at him, opening my purse and pulling out one of my credit cards to hand to him.
“First one is on the house,” he says and turns to walk away.
“Then charge me for the next one.” I put my card down before I pick up the glass, looking at the amber liquid, regretting not ordering a girlie drink. “Cheers to new beginnings”—I bring the glass to my lips—“and making bad choices.”
7
ZARA
I stare at the stranger in front of me, mesmerized by his blue eyes. I’ve never seen a T-shirt hug a man’s chest like this one does. I have to wonder if it was custom made for him, but then I want to laugh at myself for such a dumb question. Obviously, he didn’t custom make this T-shirt. He just fills it out better than any other man I’ve known in my whole life. He stretches his arms out to the sides, putting them on the bar. His biceps that I thought were big when he was pouring my drink are now even bigger up close. My eyes drink him in, like he’s the last man I’m going to see stand, and if that is the case, it’s not a bad sight to see. “To bad choices,” he repeats the words I’ve just said.
“Well, it doesn’t count if you aren’t going to toast with me,” I tease, hoping that what I’m doing is flirting, but not really sure if I’m doing it right. I can’t even remember when the last time I flirted was. I met Daniel at a coffee shop when he took the last muffin and then gave it to me, only if I gave him my number. What comes next, I’m not even sure.
“I don’t usually drink.” His tone comes out with a hint of country, and my stomach gets flutters, or maybe it’s because it knows I’m about to drink something that is going to burn like a motherfucker.
I look at my hand hanging up in the air, suspended. “I don’t usually go into bars alone to drink my sorrows away,” I say, “yet here I am.”
We stare at each other for a good full minute, or maybe it’s three seconds, before he chuckles and shakes his head. When he turns to walk back down the bar, I take a moment to check out his ass. The minute he looks back over at me, I swing my head to look in front of me, my cheeks getting really hot from being caught checking him out. He comes back over, a smirk on his gorgeous face, holding a shot glass. Unlike me, he can take his drink neat. “To you making bad choices.” He holds it out in front of him, and I move my hand closer to his and clink my glass to his. He downs the shot, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down as I bring the glass to my lips and take down a gulp, the burn hitting me right away. I want to cough, but I hold it in. Be cool is the only thing I can think of. However, if I was with my cousins and not in front of a totally hot stranger, I would cough up a lung and vow never to drink that again.