A hint of his cologne lingers in the air.
‘Rory, you have to move on. You deserve to be happy’. I hear his voice in my head again. Closing my eyes, I push back the memories and the sound of his voice that assault all of my senses.
The man sitting next to me has mesmerizing eyes, a shade of a fine dark whiskey. His jaw is firm and square. My fingers ache to run through his dark hair that’s cut short on the sides, the top a little longer.
He clears his throat and extends his hand. “I’m Christian,” his deep, captivating voice causes tingling all over my skin. He points to the pint of beer in front of me. “I got you another.”
His eyes bounce around to the others sitting at the table.
“Thanks, but I’m leaving shortly.”
“You’ve had my attention all night. I saw you were about finished with that one, so I figured I would be a gentleman and get you another.” His voice is hoarse when he speaks.
I stare at his extended hand. I still haven’t accepted it, so he sets it on the table. My eyes drop to his forearms, examining the tattoos I noticed from earlier.
“Thank you, but you shouldn’t have. I’m getting ready to head out.”
“Do you have a name?”
“Of course, I do,” I reply sassily, letting him know by my silence that my name is on lockdown.
Christian cocks his head to the side, staring at me. “You wanna play?” He nods his head to the pool table off to the left of where we are sitting.
“I don’t know how,” I reply, resting my chin on my hand, a bemused smile forming on my lips.
He stares at me with determination in his eyes. “I could teach you.” The huskiness lingers in his tone. His dark brows raise inquiringly.
My body hums at the sound of his voice. I bring the glass of beer he delivered to my lips and take a long drink, praying it will cool down my burning insides.
I look up at him, my heart hammering in my chest. His whiskey-colored eyes stare down at me sharply. What is wrong with me? I shouldn’t be attracted to him. I shouldn’t want this. It’s too soon. I need to get out of here.
“I’m sure you could, but I should be getting home, it’s getting late.” My heart thumps out of my chest.
“Can I get your name?” The warmth of his smile echoes in his voice.
“I don’t pick guys up in bars. This is not my scene. I’m only here because a few of my co-workers wanted to go out for a drink after work.”
Christian smirks.
“I’m not a bar rat. One of my best friends owns the place,” he replies. His dark eyes still assessing me.
I arch my brow. “Bar rat? Never heard that one before. It was nice to meet you, Christian. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.” I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear and turn to leave.
“This city is huge, what are the chances of me running into you again? Can I get your number?” he asks with a glint in his eyes.
Lucy and Jacqueline both sit back with smirks on their faces, witnesses to this exchange between Christian and me.
“I don’t date,” I reply immediately.
“Not ever?” He arches a brow at me, and his eyes grow openly amused.
“Like I said, I don’t date. Thanks for the drink, though. It was very kind of you.” I pick up my purse from the table. Taking a deep, unsteady breath, I rise from the table and step back.
I say a quick goodbye to my friends, then quickly pull my coat on, and walk toward the door, disappearing into the crowd.
I push through the door and it shuts behind me. The music inside is now muffled. My chest caves, releasing a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. The Arctic air whips around my face, causing my skin to tingle and sting. Snowflakes fall gently from the sky. Every step I take leaves a fresh footprint on the snow-blanketed sidewalk. The street is quiet, only the dull noise from the bar echoes in the night. Pulling my coat tightly against my chest, I walk briskly toward the corner where the subway stop is.
“Hey, wait up.”
Looking over my shoulder, I see Christian jogging down the sidewalk. Coming to an abrupt stop, I turn around, shoving my hands in my coat pockets. Damn, he is good looking. Snowflakes land in his dark hair, resembling stars in a dark sky.
When he reaches me, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, taking a step toward me.
Not wanting him too close, I take a step back. He pulls his hands out of his pockets, raising them in the air as if surrendering. A look of concern passes over his face.
“I don’t mean to come off like a stalker and shit, but I’d love to get your name and number. Maybe we can meet for drinks or even coffee, hell, even during daylight hours.” He smiles gently at me.
Licking my lips nervously, my eyes focus on the fresh footprints on the ground.
Struggling to meet his gaze, I hesitantly lock eyes with him. Clearing my throat a few times, I find my voice. “I’m going to be honest with you. I’ve lost too much in the past year. I’m not looking for a date, I barely have time for my friends, and I don’t have time for a relationship.”
He stares at me for a moment but doesn’t speak at first. “I’m simply asking for a cup of coffee. We could get it to go and drink it on the way to the subway, or during a break at work. You say when and where, and I’ll be there.” An easy smile plays at the corners of his mouth.
My defenses begin to melt away with his appealing smile. I tuck a loose piece of hair behind my ear before I speak.
“I can handle that,” I reply with a slight shrug.
Extending my hand hesitantly, I introduce myself. “I’m Rory. Nice to meet you.”
His dark eyes sparkle at my response as he takes my hand in his. “The pleasure is all mine.” He smiles wickedly, showing his pearly white teeth.
I flinch when my hand connects with his. I feel the electrifying moment our skin touches.
I don’t like to be touched. Especially not by men. Withdrawing my hand from his, I hold it out palm up. “Can I have your phone?”
I look away from him, not wanting him to see the anxiety or fear in my eyes. I haven’t given my phone number to a man in years. Dating is a field I haven’t navigated in quite some time. Something about this man intrigues me, though. I throw caution to the wind and do something I even surprise myself with.
“Sure.” He pulls the phone out of his pocket, placing it in my palm.
Quickly I type myself a text message and hit send.
“Now you have my name and number,” I say, handing his phone back to him.
“Thank you. One last question and I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the night.”
I nod, rubbing my hands over up and down my arms, trying to keep warm. Snow continues to fall from the sky. The wind blows the flurries all around, creating a magical scene as if we’re two people standing inside a snow globe. The lights from the street lamps make the flurries sparkle in the moonlight.
“Do you live close by? Were you planning to walk home alone?” His tone has a degree of warmth and concern.
“No, I was heading to catch the train.” I nod my head in the direction of the subway stop down the street.
He looks at me in surprise. “Are you crazy walking around this late by yourself? Let me at least call you an Uber.”
Shaking my head, I reply. “It’s fine. I don’t mind taking the train. I do it all the time.”
“If I don’t ensure you get home safely, how will I collect on that cup of coffee?”
Rolling my eyes, I laugh. “You’re seriously holding me to this cup of coffee, aren’t you?”
Amusement flickers in his eyes that meet mine. “Of course, I am. Maybe even two.” His mouth quirks with humor.
Laughing, I drag a hand through my wild, now-damp hair. “Maybe even two?” I question, throwing his words back at him.
His laugh is thick, warm and rich. “What’s wrong with a man wanting to spend a little time with a beautiful woman? One cup won’t do. Now, let’s get you home safe.” He pulls up the Uber
app on his phone and I stop him, my hand covering his screen.
“I’ll get the Uber,” I say, pulling my phone out of my pocket. I just met this guy. I don’t want him knowing my address. Tapping my screen a few times, I put in my location to request my ride.
I raise my eyes to find him watching me. The intensity in his stare burns a hole through me. Clamping my jaw tight, I stare back. Christian narrows his eyes and nods. From the look on my face, I can assume he is piecing it all together—that I don’t want a stranger to know where I live.
A satisfied light comes into his eyes and he nods his head again. “Smart girl.”
Christian fiddles with his phone for a few seconds, and then my phone vibrates in my hand.
Looking down at the screen, a number I don’t know appears.
“Aren’t you going to answer it? It could be your ride,” he says smiling at me.
Sliding my finger across the screen, I accept the call. Lifting it to my ear, “Hello.”
Christian lifts his phone to his ear. “Hello, beautiful,” he says with a sheepish grin on his face.
I shake my head in dismay. “Are you really calling me?”
He shrugs his shoulder. “Just checking to make sure you gave me your real number.”
Pulling the phone away from my ear, my finger taps the red circle ending the call. I push the phone into my coat pocket and laugh.
“I can’t believe you thought I gave you a fake number.”
Dipping his head slightly forward. “Don’t act as if you’ve never given a fake number out before. I needed to make sure I wasn’t one of those guys.” His smile deepens into laughter.
“Well, now you know, you’re not,” I manage a choking laugh, surprised he called me while I was standing in front of him.
While we wait, we stand on the corner, talking about the band playing at the bar. He informs me the singer is his brother-in-law, Jamie, and they’ve been best friends since they were toddlers. He then tells me his sister married said best friend. Interesting, so the pretty brunette in the corner who had the attention of Jamie all night was his sister. Christian does most of the talking. Before I know it, a black SUV arrives at the curb.
“Your chariot awaits, Rory.” Hearing him say my name sends a jolt of lightning straight to my nerves and wraps itself around my spine.
He opens the door for me and I settle into the black leather seat as he shuts it behind me. After buckling my seat belt, I hit the button on the door to slide down the window just enough. “It was nice meeting you, Christian.”
He taps the roof of the car. “As I said, the pleasure was all mine. Be safe. I’ll be calling you for that cup of coffee.”
“You do that,” I say with a smile on my face.
My finger pulls the button up, closing the window. Looking over at Christian, he lifts his hand and waves, then winks as the driver pulls away from the curb.
I twist my body to look out the back window. Momentarily, I’m stunned with a foreign feeling as he stands there watching me drive away.
What did I just agree to? It’s only coffee, right? No harm in that. Except for the fact I agreed to coffee with a man who is hotter than sin.
Chapter Three
Christian
The moment I met Rory, I sensed her interest in me. The way she looked at me with those emerald green eyes. The way her gaze couldn’t stray from mine. The way she bit those pouty red lips when our eyes locked. When I approached her on the street, I could tell by the way her cheeks flushed and her breath quickened. The moment our eyes connected, there were truths in her eyes, fears she was guarding. I sensed it.
I wanted to reach out and touch her. I wanted to know every detail of her life. Never has anyone intrigued me as much as her.
It’s been three weeks since I met Rory. I’ve called once and left a message. I texted a few times but still no answer.
Me: How about that coffee?
No response.
Me: Coffee?
No response
Me: My coffee is cold. I can take a hint.
No response
Each text was delivered, read, and unanswered. With my third text, I at least saw the three dots showing she was typing. But she never hit send.
I’m not surprised she’s blowing me off. The fear in her eyes that night was evident. I’m not going to stalk her or beg her for the cup of coffee she agreed to. My mother always said, ‘We don’t meet people by accident, they come into our lives for a reason.’ So I’ll wait as long as it takes.
“Will you please put your phone away?” Lincoln asks Morgan from across the table.
She huffs, “I’m just checking to make sure Jaxson is okay.”
“He’s fine, babe. We left him with your parents less than an hour ago. They were going to feed him and put him to bed. I assure you, if something was wrong, they’d call,” Lincoln says as he lifts his beer to take a swig.
“Is this the first time you left him with your parents?” I ask Morgan, sitting next to my sister.
Morgan doesn’t answer, she plays with the tiny straw in her drink. Lincoln gives her a pointed stare. “Go ahead, tell her.”
Stirring her drink slowly, Morgan lifts her fancy margarita glass, rimmed with sugar, to her lips. She takes a slow sip, avoiding spilling any, then places it on the napkin in front of her on the dark wooden table.
“A few more of these and he’ll be carrying me out of here,” Morgan says pointing at her drink.
“Don’t dodge the question. Answer him.” Lincoln’s deep blue eyes dance with humor as he busts Morgan’s balls.
“Fine,” Morgan replies sharply, her eyes boring into Lincoln. “This is our first time out together without him. I’ve never left him.” Morgan picks at her fingernails. “I struggle with leaving him. I’ve also been putting off returning to work. Lincoln runs both Aces and Redemption,” Morgan says, giving Lincoln a sad smile.
“You’ll go back to work when you’re ready,” Camryn tells her, pulling her in for a hug.
“Morgan, Jaxson will be fine. Are your parents going to help out long-term, or are you looking into a daycare?” Jamie asks.
“Our moms offered to keep him. It will work out better if they keep him at our house to help maintain his sleep schedule at nights. It’s tough with us needing to be at the bar or club at night during the week. But I’m thinking of hiring a manager to help me out. This way I don’t have to spend as much time at the club. I need to find a balance between my career and motherhood. Right now, motherhood is my priority, the club needs to take a back seat.”
I run my fingertips up and down the neck of the bottle absentmindedly as the girls continue with their conversation. The words breast milk, pumping, sore nipples, and how Jaxson prefers Morgan’s boob over the bottle, is what their discussion now consists of. This is not what I thought tonight would be like. If I had known the direction of the evening, I would have stayed home and binged on a new series on Netflix.
“Dude, what crawled up your ass tonight? You’re usually not the broody type,” Lincoln says from across the table.
“Nothing, I’m fine,” I reply.
Sitting here with all the couples makes me want something more from my life. I’m not celibate by any means. Relationships have never been my thing. In college, there were a few girls I saw on a regular basis. And by saw, I mean fucked. I was upfront from the beginning. It was sex. Just sex. Nothing more, nothing less. My heart was never in the game. If it wasn’t in the game, it had zero chance of getting broken.
Lincoln and Morgan have been together since we were in high school. They had their fair share of difficulties last year, but they managed to work things out. Not to mention, they have a six-month-old son. Jaxson is cute as shit. Not that I’m biased or anything with him being my godson.
Camryn smacks my left forearm. “Drink this, maybe it will get you in a better mood.”
Wincing from the pain, I scowl at her. “Watch it,” I point to my arm.
“What?”
she asks, raising her brow. “I didn’t hit you hard. Stop being a miserable baby.” She slides the shot over to me. “Here, vodka always helps me,” she says, tossing her shot back.
She slides the wedge of lemon between her lips and sucks.
Memories of Rory sucking a lemon come forefront to my mind.
Closing my eyes, I push those thoughts away.
What the fuck? I talked to the girl for a few minutes. She agreed to get a cup of coffee, has now ghosted me, and I can’t get her out of my head.
Jamie tips his chin toward my arm. “What’s up with your arm?” he asks, sitting across from me.
“Got some new ink yesterday.”
He nods. “You going to show us or what?”
Unbuttoning my sleeve, I roll my shirt up. A black and white pocket watch sits on my left forearm with the lid opened showing a reflection of the watch hands.
Lincoln gets up and walks around the table to get a look. “That’s sick, dude,” he exclaims.
Nodding at my new piece, I explain. “I wanted to honor a special day in my life, and what better way than with a pocket watch. Clocks keep running until they die, just like people. It’s a reminder not to give up until I die.”
“Enough about the history of the pocket watch,” Morgan mutters sarcastically. “Why did you get one?”
Ignoring her question, my sister fires another one.
“The hands, what are they set at?” Camryn asks.
“Seven and three. July third,” I say, looking at Camryn.
Jamie nods his head. “I like it,” he says as he scoots his stool back and comes over to take a closer look.
“You couldn’t come up with a better symbolic date?” Morgan asks.
Camryn nudges her friend’s shoulder. “Hey, that’s our birthday.”
“What?” I raise a brow. “That day is important to me.” I scoff at Morgan. “I gained my very first best friend. My twin. The first person who will always have a part of me, a part of my heart.”
Unspoken Fears (The Unspoken Love Series Book 4) Page 3