Hardwood - K.M. Neuhold Page 0,10
works in porn?”
He snorts into his drink, sputtering a cough as he sets his glass down and reaches for a napkin. “I don’t think OSHA would approve of being shirtless on a work site,” he answers once he stops coughing.
I sigh dramatically. “I feel so lied to. If you can’t trust porn, who can you trust?”
“The eternal question,” he agrees solemnly. “Watson is an interesting name.”
“Ugh, I know. My mom was obsessed with Sherlock Holmes, obviously, and she vowed to name her first child Holmes. She had a hard time getting pregnant and eventually her doctor told her it wasn’t going to happen. She was devastated, of course, and my dad, trying to be nice, went out and bought her a cat and named it Holmes as a way to cheer her up. A few months later she found out she was pregnant with her precious little miracle baby, yours truly, and lucky for me the name Holmes was already being used by a cat, so I ended up with Watson instead. I’ve never been able to decide if I’m grateful for that or not.”
He chuckles. “That’s quite the story.”
“Sorry, I have a bad habit of word vomiting. You can tell me to shut up.”
“I don’t mind,” he assures me before frowning, I’m about to ask what’s wrong when he pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Sorry, one sec,” he says, answering the phone in a low voice. I try not to listen in, I’m not that much of a nosy bitch. He talks to whoever’s on the other end for a minute or so before hanging up. “Sorry about that, but I have to run.”
“Oh.” I try not to sound too disappointed. He tosses some money down on the bar and looks at me expectantly for a few seconds. Is he waiting for me to ask for his number or trying to work up the courage to ask for mine?
“Maybe I’ll see you around,” he says. “You know, if I come back.”
“You should definitely come back. I’m here most Monday nights, and sometimes on the weekends.” Damn, that makes me sound like a drunk, right? Or at the very least, someone with a limited social life.
“Cool,” he says. He slides off his stool and strides out of the bar while I slump forward with my forehead on my arms and curse myself for not getting his number.
Once I’m finished cursing myself, I take my drink and return to my friends.
“Strike out?” Jordy asks sympathetically.
“No,” I answer with an indignant sniff. “He had to leave.”
“Right ‘had to leave’,” Mia teases, making air quotes with her fingers.
“Shut the fuck up,” I say with a laugh. “Ugh, he was hot, right.” I look back over my shoulder longingly at where he had been sitting. “Like, ridiculously hot.”
“He was hot,” Jordy agrees. “Did you at least get his number?”
“You know, I don’t appreciate your intrusive and frankly rude questions.”
“So, no then?” Mia guesses.
“He said he might come back sometime,” I say hopefully.
“I’m sure he will.” Jordy pats my hand, not sounding the least bit convinced.
“Fuck, I need another drink,” I mutter hopelessly.
Chapter 4
Everett
It’s been three days since I met Watson, and I still can’t work out if I’m grateful for the call from Val that interrupted our conversation or not. Apparently Livi had left one of her schoolbooks at my place, and she needed it for homework. I ran it over to her and then went home to replay the brief conversation I had with the adorable, sexy, charming man over and over until I fell asleep.
I wanted to ask for his number so badly, while being simultaneously terrified that he might ask for mine and what that might mean. I’m nowhere near ready to jump into bed with some guy I don’t know. Although, finally finding out what it’s like to kiss another man sounds more than a little appealing. Who am I kidding? I’ve fallen asleep three nights in a row imagining what it would’ve been like if things had gone differently on Monday night. If Val hadn’t called, how long would Watson and I have talked? Would I have worked up the courage to properly flirt with him? I’ve pictured it over and over again, the two of us talking until last call and then I would’ve found the courage to lean forward and steal a kiss, pressing our lips together briefly but with intention. Something tells me he wouldn’t have minded.
My phone vibrates in my pocket as I’m