A Guy Walks Into My Bar - Lauren Blakely Page 0,64
of my resistance.
It’s so threadbare right now.
I don’t know if I can hold out much longer.
We stay like that for a minute or two, quiet as his lips travel across the back of my neck, and I try—I try so damn hard—not to say everything I’m feeling for him.
Stay in the moment, I tell myself.
So I do, just savoring Dean’s tender kisses on my neck, his arms wrapped around me, and the way he seems to know what I need right now.
Him.
Just him.
This moment is as close to perfect as any moment has ever been. I don’t want it to end. I don’t want anything to end.
But all of it has to.
Every moment, every second will be over in less than two days.
Soon enough, he lets go. “My dad will be here any minute with the food. And as cool as he is, I don’t want him to see me like this—looking like I’m about to take you to my bed.”
I manage a laugh, turn around, and drag my fingers through my hair, a makeshift comb. With a deep breath, I center myself. “Agreed.” Then I furrow my brow, focusing on the practical. “Want me to grab some wine or something? I can run to the store. Pick up a bottle.”
Dean waves a hand, dismissing the offer. “The one thing I have plenty of is liquor. You can help me find a bottle if you’d like. He enjoys red wine.”
I join him in the kitchen, rubbing my palms together. “Let’s find some red wine for Dean’s dad.”
The hunt briefly takes my mind off this train rattling down the tracks.
A train that’s gathering speed, and I don’t think I can stop it.
But I also don’t think I want to stop it. There’s a part of me that wants to be walloped by it. To feel it. To feel everything for him that’s coming my way.
Dean’s father deals the final cards. Empty takeaway boxes and the remnants of dinner—he brought a curry from Naveen’s restaurant, and it was amazing—are strewn on the kitchen counter, but my attention is on this game of poker.
I pick up my cards, considering my hand.
My sucky, shitty hand.
Maybe I can bluff though. Yeah, I do that on the ice. I can do it here. I want to impress Dean’s dad.
I slide another chip across the table, staying in.
His father arches a brow, then pushes in two more chips to join mine. “You’re bluffing.”
I blink, and try to keep my tone neutral. “Not bluffing.”
Dean reins in a laugh, covering his mouth.
“You think I’m bluffing?” I toss out to my guy.
Dean just shrugs and smiles.
“I guess we’ll find out,” I say, with more bravado than my cards call for.
His father shoots me a skeptical stare. “All right. What have you got, Yankee?”
Smiling, I lay down my cards, loving that his dad calls me Yankee. Nicknames are a good thing in my book.
His father cracks up, leaning back on the couch, clapping a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Your friend can’t bluff for shit.”
“No, Dad. It’s that you can always tell when someone is bluffing.”
His father nods solemnly. “That is true. Very true.”
“Fine, fine. Maybe I suck at poker,” I admit.
“No, you just need a better poker face,” his dad tells me, as he squeezes Dean’s shoulder. “This one? He has a great poker face. I taught him well.”
“Those are important life lessons, sir,” I say.
They both laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“You don’t have to call him ‘sir,’” Dean says.
“Just use my name,” his dad says. “Martin.”
“Okay, Martin,” I say, but it’s still weird. Maybe it’s only because this is the first parent of a lover I’ve met.
Ever.
“Or just call me ‘old man,’ like Dean does.”
“I call it like I see it, old man,” Dean says.
“Yes, I suppose you do. And I’ve been meaning to ask, would you like me to tell your friend embarrassing stories about you from your younger days?”
My eyes widen. “Tell me everything.”
Dean shakes his head, staring daggers at his dad. “Reveal nothing, or I will march into Coffee O’clock tomorrow and tell Penny you’ve been pining away for her.”
Martin laughs loudly. “Dean, she already knows. We went out last night.”
“You scoundrel.”
He wiggles his brow and looks at his watch. “And on that note, I should get out of here. We’re going out again.”
“Double scoundrel.”
“Takes one to know one,” his father says, then rises and heads for the door.