Knocking Boots - Willow Winters Page 0,16
the polite answer, “I don’t usually care for dark beer much, but I’m excited to give it a try.” A small smile slips onto my face when he grins at my statement.
“You will,” he nods, picking up his pint glass for a toast. “What should we toast to?”
“How about to new experiences?”
“No, no,” he corrects me. “To us.”
He clinks his glass against mine, and it spills a tiny bit of the beer over my hand onto the bar top. I can practically hear him guzzling still after I take a sip of the beer, ignoring the spilled beer and simply laughing it off. Two small square napkins is enough to clean it up anyway. The bitter taste in my mouth sits on my tongue. Yup, nope, I don’t like dark beer.
Sitting easily on the stool as I take another sip of the beer. It’s indeed like chocolate milk… if chocolate milk is rancid and bitter.
I take yet another sip, thinking that maybe I just need to close my eyes and let it wash over my tongue…
Nope. I sit my beer down and push it away, relegating it to the far edge of the bar.
“Not to your liking?” Jason asks.
“Not so much,” I say, reaching for the menu. “You can have it if you want?”
Jason grabs the menu again before I can get to it. “Let me choose again.”
Railroaded isn’t something I’m used to feeling, but that’s exactly how I feel now and I can’t help the frown that I know is revealed in my expression.
I stare at this man and I don’t know what to do. I’m not used to being such a shrew on dates, not that I’ve really been on many, but that’s exactly how I feel. Then again I’ve never been treated like this. My lips part to say as much, but he’s already waving the bartender down and ordering another beer.
“I like Belgian wheat beers, if that helps,” I say to the bartender, as soon as Jason’s done talking. I didn't even listen to what he said.
“Just bring her what I asked for,” Jason says pointedly.
The bartender senses the tension between me and Jason, so he just backs off and pours another beer. On my tab, I presume.
“So, first date formalities,” Jason says, as though none of that ever happened.
I have been on so many shitty dates in college. They didn’t really matter though as I wasn’t actually looking for a forever Mr. Right. Just a Mr. Right now. I watch Jason as he talks and realize this one is probably the worst start to any interaction with any individual I’ve ever had. Including some of my worst clients. Probably.
“Let’s see… I’m in finance, but I won’t even begin to explain it. It’s nothing you would understand. I’m from Atlanta, but left for college and then came back.” Jason doesn’t look at me as he recites what’s probably a rehearsed introduction, motioning with his hands in between drinking the beer. “I went to Westminster, of course. Followed by Columbia and Yale, for business school. Came back to help my father run his firm. I’ve been everywhere. You name it, I’ve been there. I spend my weekends on my boat. And you?”
He finally looks up at me. I take a breath, my fingers tangling in my lap. Everywhere? He’s been everywhere? Irritation claws at me.
“Well… I’m from Atlanta, too. I went to Decatur High School—”
“A public school?” he interrupts.
I wait a moment to answer him, my body heat rising. “Yes. I also went to Brenau University—”
“You went where?” he asks, his nose wrinkling.
“Brenau? It’s a women’s college—”
“Oh, a girls school,” he says, tapping his hand on the bar top and leaning back some on his stool. I smile thinly.
“It’s actually a private college.” It’s where I went before Rhode Island School of Design. Both are damn good institutions, and I’m proud of the fact I was accepted to them.
He actually rolls his eyes as he takes another drink of the beer, the one I paid for, and says, “Yeah, okay.”
I seriously need to get out of here.
He takes a moment to savor his beer. I stand, shouldering my purse. Anger is just simmering beneath the surface. I’ve never been treated so poorly in my life.
“Where are you going?” he asks, surprised.
“I’m going to go ahead and leave,” I say.
“Wait— you can’t just leave like this, in the middle of our date!” He has the nerve to raise his voice loud enough to get the attention of the