She bites that pouty red lip again. Far away, the gesture caught my eye. Up close, it fucking hypnotizes me. “There’s not much to say, and I hate to bore you. Look, if you’re not interested—”
“Honey, I’m so interested that, if we were alone, I’d lick you from the tips of your pretty toes all the way to that lip you keep sinking your teeth into. I promise I’d focus on all the best parts in between until you screamed for me.”
“Oh.” She blinks, looking stunned. “Okay, then.”
“So don’t think I’m not interested.”
She smiles up at me from under her lashes. There’s a lot of sweet angel in her stare…but I see the devil lurking, too. “I’m definitely interested myself.”
Since I’ve read her body, I didn’t need the verbal affirmation, but it’s nice. “We’re on the same page. So let’s just take a few minutes to sit down and get to know each other before we have a hell of a night, huh?”
“All right.” She slips onto the barstool Noah vacated, then turns to me with a shrug. “Not much to say. I went to college with Harlow. Communications major. While she stayed in and got her master’s, I couldn’t find a job I liked. Well, that’s not true. I couldn’t find one that paid enough to cover my rent and didn’t have me working for a complete douche. I’ve always loved makeup. Not sure why, except there’s something artistic and transformative about it. It helps you to feel like whoever you want to be. Right after high school, I started a YouTube channel, mostly for fun, but I put out videos pretty regularly. By the time I was out of college, I had over one hundred thousand followers. It was both growing and making me a decent income stream, so I took a part-time job and devoted the rest of my energy into doing what I love. Over the next two years, I grew my channel by leaps and bounds. Now I have over one point five million followers, and the rest of my social media reach has multiplied.”
I only understand about half of what she said. I’m the weird guy who prefers human interaction over staring at the screen of my phone. But even so, I realize what she’s accomplished in the past handful of years is pretty amazing. “You must have busted your ass.”
She nods. “It’s often a seven-day-a-week job to keep the videos flowing. Not everyone understands.”
Translation: the ex wasn’t supportive and trying to work around him was a fight. Why? I don’t get the reason some men are threatened by a woman’s sense of purpose or success. Is their own confidence so lacking that they can’t deal?
“I get it. I’m self-employed and I keep weird hours, too.”
That perks her up as the bartender sets her wine in front of her and I gesture to him to add that to my tab. “Really? What do you do?”
“I run a charter boat service. I take vacationers and corporate types out deep-sea fishing, scuba diving, or on a houseboat for anywhere between a few hours and a few weeks.” I shrug. “Just depends. I love the water and I like facilitating a good time, so this works for me. Between us, there’s nothing funnier than a bunch of uptight suits getting on board day one, talking shop, then seeing them two days later all drunk and telling fart jokes.”
Masey laughs. It’s light and feminine and real. The sound does something to me. And if she didn’t both need and deserve a guy to seduce the hell out of her, I would be ready to skip the conversation and get busy now.
“They really do that?”
“Every. Single. Time. Put a beer in one hand and a fishing pole in the other for a few hours, and it’s predictable. Families are interesting, too. You can see the ones who are genuinely close and appreciate the time together. But you can also tell the ones where someone, usually Mom, insists they’re going to have some togetherness, damn it. By the end of a week, I’m often texting my brother with my bet about who will turn ax murderer first.”
She winces. “That sounds uncomfortable.”
“You have no idea. I had to learn real quick how to dodge becoming the referee.”
“I’m sure.” Masey cocks her head and slants me a stare. “So no wild spring break crews, bachelorette parties, or single girls?”