Fail To Fight: A Second Chance At Forever Romance (Unrequited Love Series Book 1)

by Maci Dillon

  Tequila lined the shelves behind the bar in more shapes and sizes than I’d ever cared to imagine.

  Exactly what I needed to calm the apprehension that built inside me.

  Tonight was a massive deal for me. Potentially, I faced being left with my heart shattered, so only the best tequila would do.

  The staff’s tip jar sat on one end of the bar near the entrance, an oversized margarita glass filled with notes and small change. Patrons are not expected to tip in Australia, so I assumed the service here was exceptional. So far, I couldn’t fault anything.

  Booths lined the wall behind me, each one situated by a tall glass window overlooking the bustling city life. It was an intimate setting inside the bar, quite the contrast to the high-set outdoor tables where groups of people gathered, swarmed by passers-by on the street.

  A few extra people, mainly men in suits and the women who draped themselves whorishly over them, started to fill the small space now that office hours were over and the weekend had officially commenced.

  I dangled my sparkly Jimmy Choo off the tip of my toe while sucking on the straw embedded in my strawberry margarita. Liquid courage. Every nerve in my body was awakened, on high alert each time a new face entered the bar.

  However, my anxious anticipation was only met with disappointment.

  I quickly started to question whether any of this was a good idea. Will wasn’t due for another fifteen minutes, and if I weren’t careful, I’d be well on my way to tipsy before he arrived.

  I handled my alcohol like a pro, but the inner turmoil, the kind that had my stomach doing backflips mixed with tequila on an empty stomach, it could become an issue if I weren’t careful.

  “Waiting for someone?” A simple question from a smoky voice I didn’t recognize but instantly wished I did. I swiveled slightly to my left in the oversized bar stool to acknowledge the handsome stranger who stood to my left.

  My gaze wandered over him slowly. I was instantly intrigued by his subtle confidence.

  I hoped he didn’t find the inspection rude. I did take my sweet-ass time, after all. Patiently, he waited until my eyes reached his for the first time. The relaxed manner in which he stood there told me he experienced this type of response often. His eyes were warm, inviting, and the way his knowing smirk shaped his lips made me question how well they’d manipulate my body.

  “As a matter of fact, I am. I’m getting a head start before he arrives.”

  I offered him my best smile, and I brought the straw to my mouth for another hit of courage. Saying out loud I was waiting for Will sent nervous jitters through my body in a way which immediately required the use of the restroom.

  The undeniably sexy and considerably mysterious stranger ordered his drink as the bartender approached. When his Corona was opened and placed before him, he added, “And a strawberry margarita for the beautiful lady, please.”

  His request halted my attempt to escape to the bathroom. Puzzled, I sunk back into the stool. I threw him a sideways glance as I considered his motive for buying a perfect stranger a drink immediately after advising she was waiting for someone.

  As if picking up on my unspoken question, he continued, “What? I’m waiting for a colleague to arrive and didn’t fancy a drink alone. Besides, I figured a beautiful woman like yourself shouldn’t be drinking alone either.”

  The familiarity he used to speak to the bartender indicated he was a regular patron. Judging by the way he was dressed in an expensive silk dress shirt and equally fancy charcoal-colored suit pants, I was sure he had to work in one of the offices nearby in a high-level position too.

  There was no doubt he wore success insanely well. His tie was slightly loosened with the top button of his shirt undone. I couldn’t blame him for ditching the jacket in the heat of the Queensland summer. It was early December, and the worst of the weather was still yet to make its appearance.

  “So, this someone you are waiting for, who is he? First date? Weekly catch-up with your gay best friend?” The stranger’s gaze drifted to my partially exposed thigh as he pondered the question.

  Subtle. I chuckled softly at his attempt for more information about my evening’s plans. “Neither.” A vague but accurate response.

  His dark eyebrows rose in question. “Care to elaborate, or am I being too forward?”

  Did I care to elaborate?

  I shamelessly ogled him as he took the first few sips of his Corona. A man in need of beer on a hot summer’s day was sexy as hell. I’ve always been a sucker for a chiseled forearm, and I all but slid from my bar stool as the rolled-up sleeves of his business shirt exposed the beginnings of a well-defined arm, a slight covering of hair sneaking from the sides of his expensive dress watch.

  My eyes traced up and over his fingers holding the bottle to his mouth, where I found a chunky, three-tone, square-faced dress ring. I made a mental note to check he wasn’t also wearing one on his wedding hand.

  My gaze caressed the square shape of his jaw and soaked up the way his lips relaxed around the head of the bottle as he drank. Instantly, my mind wandered at the vision, and my eyes traveled down the length of his chest to beneath the shiny leather belt where I imagined his cock sat snug in his boxer briefs.

  Fully unaware of my reaction to this man, my teeth grazed over my bottom lip, drawing it in.

  “Ahem.”

  A less-than-subtle attempt at clearing his throat pulled my attention from his crotch, which had unexpectedly started to expand. I was horrified and embarrassed—not quite—at my lack of decorum, and well, being royally busted.

  I was unable to hold his stare once my eyes found his. With his full attention now on me, I quickly explained, “Old boyfriend, it’s been ten years.”

  Eager to shrink away from the intensity of his gaze, I was happy when my bladder reminded me of my pressing need.

  “So how did it end ten years ago? I mean…” for a moment, he hesitated and his gaze wandered seductively over me, “… were you the one who broke it off or was he?”

  I stared back at the stranger while my fingers tapped wildly on the bar as I contemplated what to say. “We both did questionable things.” I paused awkwardly before continuing, “I guess he couldn’t handle how he dealt with his, and he left.”

  The stranger pondered my answer briefly. “If he walked out on you ten years ago, maybe he’s not worthy of you today. He made his choice. It’s a little too late now, wouldn’t you say?”

  Wow, presumptuous, bold, and cocky too.

  My delicate fingers wrapped around the thin stem of the cocktail glass, clenched with a force which threatened to break it in half. My palms were a sweaty mess, my throat numb from the sweet, icy particles releasing from my straw in repetitive bursts of rich, satisfying flavor.

  I scrutinized my drink as it quickly receded until all I was left with was an empty, sugar-rimmed glass and a dire need to use the restroom. His words repeated annoyingly in my mind.

  God, how I wished he were right. But it wasn’t only Will’s mistake to regret. Maybe he regretted not fighting for what we had or perhaps he didn’t. Most likely, the truth would never be revealed. But I couldn’t deny the regretful role I played in destroying our relationship.

  I set the empty drink aside before I finally looked up at the man who made incorrect and hasty conclusions. “You’re wrong, it’s me who isn’t worthy of him. And I doubt he believed he was wrong for walking out.”

  I don’t blame him. For hitting me, yes, but not for leaving me. It hurt and angered me, but I understood. I do, however, want to understand why he didn’t stay and fight to make things right.

  I was young, naive, and reckless.

  My fear of losing my key to happiness was crippling.

  Believing I was unworthy of Will’s love, I self-destructed. I broke me before he would ever have the chance. All those years ago, I abandoned my right to a happily ever after, and here I am still searching for the missing piece of myself.

  Only today I’m not starin
g into an empty bottle of sauvignon blanc looking for answers, I’ve added some color to my world, now seeking comfort and direction from a strawberry margarita made with the best available tequila.

  Alone and waiting.

  For him.

  Before he continued to feed my fears and destroy my desires, I politely excused myself. I grabbed my clutch from the bar and stepped down from the stool, self-conscious of my figure-hugging black dress with plunging neckline.

  In a subtle attempt to shimmy my short hemline further down my thighs before I took off toward the restrooms for some reprieve, I was startled to a stop by the fleeting touch of the stranger’s hand on my arm. His grip was warm, gentle even, yet demanded my attention.

  His sultry gaze when our eyes connected, held me captive.

  “Stop messing with your dress, it’s incredibly stunning.”

  ***

  Will was a no-show.

  To say I was pissed was an understatement, but I refused to let him ruin an evening out. I had, after all, gone to the effort of waxing, styling, and digging through the closet for something special to wear. And I’ve met a good man, whose name I did not care to learn because the evening would be over in a flash, and we’d never cross paths again.

  During my brief trip to the bathroom, I recomposed myself, gave myself a stern talking to in the mirror, and chastised myself for fantasizing about another man while waiting for Will. Figuratively speaking, I pulled up my big girl panties and returned to the stranger at the bar.

  As I approached, he said goodbye and ended a call. “That was my colleague,” he advised, not the least bit disgruntled. “He’s had to work late. It looks like it’s you and me, beautiful. You care to join me for a bite to eat?”

  I was starving, and Will apparently wasn’t coming, so why not?

  “Sure, I’d love to.” Mustering up a smile while I was quietly dying on the inside wasn’t easy, but it was necessary. This man deserved the polite, polished Chloe, not the irate, bitchy Chloe. He had, after all, bought me a drink and appeared to expect nothing in return.

  “You left this on the bar, by the way. You should be more careful.” Handing me my phone, he continued, “I imagine a beautiful girl like you might have a lot of secrets locked away in there.”

  “Now, wouldn’t you like to know?” I flirted, thanked him for keeping my secrets safe, and slipped the phone back into my clutch after I quickly checked I had no missed calls or messages from Will.

  Taking my hand in his, he led us to an available booth by the window and ushered me into a seat across from where he took his.

  I gifted him a genuine smile. “Thank you, kind gentleman.”

  He nodded. “My mother brought me up in a way my father should have been proud of. Ladies first, hold open the doors, pull out their chairs, lick their feet—” I burst out laughing, knowing I was going to enjoy dinner.

  “And he has a sense of humor, I’m impressed,” I joked. “I never would have guessed when I first laid eyes on you.”

  “Oh? And what was your initial perception? Was it love at first sight?” His laugh was easy, and I relaxed comfortably into the conversation.

  Serious and rigid, quietly confident, and a little cocky were the words which first came to mind, and he didn’t appear to be taken aback by them when I told him, either.

  We bantered and swapped pointless stories and kept from anything too personal after unloading about Will. We laughed over the stupid things we’ve done in the past while we enjoyed our enchiladas and a massive serving of nachos.

  “What should I call you, other than your actual name, of course?”

  “You don’t want to know my name?” he laughed incredulously.

  “No. I don’t believe so. I kinda love the mystery,” I responded, swirling the straw in my margarita glass. “Wining and dining with a handsome man who has not yet disclosed his name is mildly intriguing.” I flashed him an innocent smile and waited for a response.

  “Okay, call me Texas.”

  I laughed out loud, my eyebrows rising in question.

  “Why Texas?”

  “We’re eating Tex-Mex food, and I was born in a little town in New South Wales called Texas, would you believe?”

  “Hmm, okay, Tex. It’s fitting.” I couldn’t help but shorten the name.

  He chuckled at me and shook his head.

  “Are you going to return the favor and give me your name, or shall I continue to call you beautiful?”

  “I guess I’ll have to consider it,” I teased, tilted my head a little to the side, and pretended to think about it.

  “No need,” he added, “I’m going to call you Tequila Girl.”

  Ha! I guess the shoe fits.

  I’d almost forgotten Will hadn’t shown up when I reached for a tortilla chip at the same time as Tex did. Our hands brushed, and my body suddenly became aware of the presence of this man in a different way.

  As good-looking and kind as he was, he was not Will but a stranger. Quickly, I retracted my hand, but not before he caught my fingertips in his.

  As he caressed my knuckles with his thumb, he leaned across the table and fed the tortilla chip into my mouth. His eyes darkened as I ate from his fingertips. It was intimate, too close for a couple of strangers, and as much as I had enjoyed the company of this charming, enigmatic man, it was time to leave.

  Chapter Seven

  Unexpected Turn of Events

  “Don’t take a good woman for granted. Someday someone will come along and appreciate what you didn’t.” ~ Unknown

  CHLOE

  “Let me walk you back to your room, sweetheart.”

  Without waiting for my response, my new gentleman friend, Tex, stood from the booth we’d moved to a few hours ago and summoned the waitress to fix up both our tabs and settle the bill for our meal.

  Thankfully, it was only a short walk back to where I was staying for the night—because heels, too many margaritas, and spiraling self-confidence after being stood up were undoubtedly a cocktail for disaster.

  I was overcome with incredible gratitude toward this man who kept me company and thankful his drinking companion had to bail at the last minute. He pulled me to stand in front of him, quick to steady me on my feet.

  “Yes, enough margaritas for you.” A smile spread across his sexy face softening his eyes. Gah! Sympathy was precisely what I didn’t need.

  “Lucky for you, I talked you into eating with me, otherwise I might have had to carry you home.” Tex took my arm and placed it in the crook of his, pulled me closer to his side, and led us toward the exit.

  Usually, the idea of being carried by a gorgeous specimen through the streets of the city might cause a tingle in my panties, especially knowing he was in control and taking me home to have his wicked way with me. If I hadn’t been waiting for an asshole who never showed, a night with Tex would have been one to reminisce about in my erotic diary I labeled the Minx Diary.

  Instead, I was left feeling used and deflated.

  “Thank you, Tex,” I whispered as I rested my head against his shoulder as we crossed the road in the direction of my hotel. “For everything. You’re such a gentleman for making sure I get home safely.”

  He kissed the top of my head, and we continued to walk in silence the rest of the way.

  “This is me,” I added as we arrived at the front entrance of the River View Hotel complex. He turned to me, gently rubbing his hands over my shoulders, his eyes dark and his manner earnest.

  “I sincerely wish it were possible to be anything but a gentleman with you tonight, Tequila Girl.” My body swayed slightly in his hold, and his words surprised me.

  “I hate leaving you to make it to your room alone. But you’re vulnerable, and I’d struggle to keep my hands off you. Not what you need right now.”

  Huh?

  I was not beautiful in a way that stopped traffic, but I took care of myself and lived life with a certain level of confidence. I never had any trouble attracting male attention
, either, and it was an understatement to say I was comfortable in the presence of a sexy alpha male such as the one standing in front of me.

  Yet this whole situation had taken me entirely by surprise.

  My head was not in the game tonight.

  Had I been so self-absorbed I missed all the signs, or was he such a gentleman he never let it show?

  His eyes fluttered shut as he appeared to be struggling to compose himself. He leaned forward and briefly touched my face as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. The moment was brief before he pulled out his business card and slipped it into my hand.

  “I expect a call from you if you ever find yourself in need of a stranger to talk to…” a smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth before he added, “… or not talk to.”

  He leaned down to place a quick kiss on my cheek and whispered in my ear, “Good night, sweet Tequila Girl. Now go on inside, so I know you’re safe before I leave.”

  I gave a quick nod, thanked him again, and before I turned to walk inside, I tucked the card safely into my clutch. I disappeared into the lobby and straight onto the waiting elevator without a single glance back.

  Will

  I’ve said it a thousand times before, and I’ll say it again.

  I’m a fucking idiot.

  When I arrived at the bar with five minutes to spare, I spotted Chloe immediately. Or maybe it was her flamboyant chuckle I heard first and alerted me to her presence. Either way, I was drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

  Her hair was longer now. Thick blonde waves rolled down her slender back which thankfully faced me and allowed me a moment to take her in. She was in deep conversation with some arrogant prick, who stood at the bar beside her.

  It was only jealousy talking, but it should have been me who made her smile.

  One of her slender legs thrown over the other left way too much thigh exposed for him to ogle. An empty margarita glass sat in front of her.