in need of a good shave, but one of them catches my eye. He’s over six feet tall with unruly sandy brown hair and is H-O-T, hot. I know I’m staring and that I’m not the only woman in the bar gaping open-mouthed at him.
“Humph,” I hear Hart grunt next to me.
“Do you know those guys?” I ask. The hunk with the wild hair is clapping some of his buddies on the back, ignoring a few of the women that made a beeline for him the moment he stepped foot in the bar.
“They’re trouble, that’s who they are. You don’t need to know no more about them. Luanne! Get me another one,” he yells, agitated, waving his empty shot glass in the air.
At Hart’s shout the man I’ve been ogling looks over and catches me staring at him. I know I should turn my eyes away at this point. I’m sure I look like a fish caught on a line, but I can’t help it. His eyes do not waver from my own as he leaves his friends and heads straight for me.
“How you doing, Hart?” the man asks, squeezing one of the old man’s shoulders and finally taking his eyes off me.
“How does it look like I’m doin’?” Hart replies. “Luanne, where’s my drink!”
“In a minute, you mean old coot!” Luanne hollers back.
Now instead of staring at him with my mouth hanging open, I’m staring at him with a ridiculously big smile on my face. That’s right, Ellie, stay cool.
“Hi, I’m Sam.”
I move my lips to reply with an elegant yet seductive introduction but instead of words, a weird strangled noise makes its way up from my gut to my lips. Sam smiles wider at me and I refocus my efforts to use language he may actually understand. “Uh, yeah, hi,” I say. “I’m Ellie.” Totally nailed it.
The hand he extends to me is strong and a little rough, and my smaller one all but disappears inside his large grip. His warm skin makes my flesh tingle, and I can’t seem to drop the handshake after an appropriate amount of time. When he finally releases me, I realize my hand is trembling and I grab my knee to prevent him noticing.
I watch as Sam flexes the hand that’d been holding mine, and something like surprise or recognition flashes in his eyes. It lasts only a second before he reaches over to squeeze Hart’s shoulder and turns his attention to the older man. “So what’re you doing hanging out with old Hart here?” His smile makes his eyes crinkle with mischief.
I know I ought to be concentrating on what he’s saying, but all I can think about is the dimple on his right cheek. I want to lick that dimple. Is that an appropriate post-breakup thing to do? “Hart’s keeping me company while I wait on Luanne,” I stammer. Don’t lick the dimple.
“Luanne, huh? She’s a feisty one.”
“Believe me, you have no idea.”
His laugh is rich and deep and makes my stomach flutter. I nervously uncross and re-cross my legs. The skirt I borrowed from Luanne is far too short to be seen as decent, and I’m overly conscious of Sam’s eyes on me as I move in my chair to a more comfortable position.
“So you’re a friend of Luanne’s, and Hart’s obviously taken with you. What’s your story?” he asks.
I can’t think of what to say. Do I tell him I’m just an average girl from east Texas with the psychic ability to spot a doomed relationship coming? Something I’ve got plenty of experience in, by the way. Or do I lead by telling him that yesterday I walked in on my boyfriend giving it to our neighbor, doggie-style? “I don’t know. I guess it hasn’t been written yet,” I finally manage. “What about you?”
Hart grunts disapprovingly beside me but Sam ignores him. “It’s a long story. Might take some time to tell it.”
“Sam!” One of his friends is calling him over to a pool table where a new game is set to begin. Sam yells something back but I’m concentrating too hard on the strong muscles of his neck and shoulders to pay any attention to what he’s saying. I only look away in time when he turns back to face me, though I’m sure the hot blush I feel spreading across my cheeks has given me away.
“I guess it’ll have to wait for another time. I need to get back to my friends. It was nice meeting