“Slow down. Who put their hands on you?”
I stare, dumbstruck. One simple phrase from a stranger and I’m completely paralyzed in place. Nobody in my life has ever shown that much concern, and this is a total stranger. “I . . . It . . . It was just this guy I was working for. Nothing happened. I left.” My head hangs in shame.
“Hey . . .” He tilts my chin upward so I’m staring directly into his caring eyes. “You don’t have to be embarrassed about someone else’s actions. He clearly upset you, which means you had every right to walk out. Don’t let this Karen woman make you feel like you did something wrong.”
This man has me glued to this spot, completely off-kilter. He listened to every word I spewed. Has anyone ever done that before? Not for a long time . . . Not since all the shit hit the fan with my family when I was back in high school. Ever since my senior year, everything has been about my father having an affair on my mom. Or about my best friend, Lynn, actually being the product of said affair. Just as life finally calmed down, and maybe I’d be noticed and appreciated for my own merits, everything was about Olivia and her partying and drug use. It’s been so long since I’ve not been compared to my sisters and their flaws and someone paid attention to just me; I can’t stifle the need to bask in it.
“Okay,” I whisper, not knowing what else to say.
“You’re cold.” He rubs his hands up and down my shoulders. “Let’s get you somewhere warm.”
His arm comes around my shoulder, pulling me into him. The scent of peppermint and wintergreen assault my senses in a wonderful euphoria. I sigh. It doesn’t go unnoticed based on the light chuckle coming from the stranger. I snuggle into him without thinking and almost immediately come out of the fog he’s had me in.
I stop in my tracks and whip around until I’m facing him. “Wait. Where are you taking me? I don’t know you.” It sounds ridiculously stranger-danger, but not so much after getting sexually assaulted by Mr. Lawson. I might as well wear a Me Too neon shirt. This stranger might be nice and handsome, but wasn’t Jeffery Dahmer the same way?
His hands come up in surrender. “I’m just trying to help. You were upset, and it seems like you could use some company. I thought we could go get a drink.” He shuffles on his feet.
I groan. “I’m sorry. I’m acting erratically. It’s just been one hell of a day.”
“Like I said, I get it. My day has been one for the books too.” He drags his straight teeth along his lower lip and fire shoots to my core. It’s so sexy I can hardly contain a whimper. This man is like nothing I’ve ever seen. “I think we could both use a drink.”
“Just one,” I say, convincing myself more than him.
“We’ll see.” He winks cockily, and I’m a goner. “So, Miss . . . ?” His invitation hangs in the air, waiting for me to pluck it, press it into my chest and RSVP the hell out of it.
“Bridget. Just Bridget.” Not a good time to give him my last name. Again. Stranger-danger.
“Bridget.” He tries the name out, smiling. “Let’s go.”
“Are you going to tell me yours?” I protest.
“Maybe.”
I laugh. He does, too. It feels good, and for the first time today, I don’t feel like a truck ran me over. “Grant.”
Even his name is sexy.
“All right, Grant. Lead the way.”
He could tell me we’re headed to hell, and I’d go without a fuss at this point. It’s stupid and irresponsible, but I couldn’t care less. I don’t have to be perfect tonight. I don’t have to compare myself to anyone. No one knows me here. He doesn’t know me. I can be whatever I want to be, even if that means having an impromptu drink with a complete stranger.
We don’t walk far before we approach a tall brick building. A door I didn’t even see opens and a tall, smartly-dressed man steps out.
“Sir. Welcome. Your table is ready for you.”
“Gerald.” He tips his head down, and apparently that’s his version of thank you. “I’ll have a plus-one this evening.”
“Of course, sir.”
The gentleman named Gerald moves aside, ushering us through the door. A dimly-lit lounge greets us. There are private booths surrounded by white satin drapes and tables littered throughout the room. The place is moderately full with several of the tables still open.
“Right this way,” Gerald calls. He leads us to one of the more private sections with white drapes obscuring our view of the other patrons. With the night I’ve had, privacy is welcome. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“What will it be?” Grant asks.
“A shot of tequila,” my inner college girl blurts out.
“Gerald, two shots of Don Julio 1942.” Grant surprises me, not batting a sexy eyelash.
“Sir.” Gerald nods before walking off. I turn around to Grant with a smile that hurts my cheeks. “Don Julio? Who are you trying to impress?”
“You,” he says simply, his eyes meeting mine, nonchalant and challenging. My heart is in my throat, my pulse hammering against my neck. This. Man. Then he continues, “You’re upset. You need something worth drinking.” Cyanide sounds like a good idea. But of course, I keep my snark to myself. Miss 3rd place, remember?
“I’m fine, really. I just needed to get out of there.”
Our shots arrive in record time. Grant raises his glass to me. “To bad days and better nights.” His voice turns husky on the word nights, and it makes my stomach warm with innuendo.
“I’ll drink to that.”
We clink glasses and tip them back. The liquid is smooth going down my throat, slowly melting away all the tension that was still harboring in my shoulders. As I’m lowering my glass to the table, my eyes catch Grant’s. Feeling unnerved, my gaze drifts, and I watch as his throat gulps down the liquid. The motion is so sexy I find myself swallowing in response. The room heats, and I can’t shake the awkwardness at having this beautiful man sitting across from me. I literally ran into him, while crying over a guy I had no real interest in.
He waves to the new waitress. “Another.”
After our second drink, I’m much looser. We’ve talked about nothing in particular, but it’s nice to let go and have fun for once, especially after my job debacle. He brought me to some swanky club that’s for members only. High roller members from the looks of things. It’s nothing but fancy suits and tumblers of pricey scotch. I might have gone to private school and grown up wanting for nothing, but this is a whole new level of wealth. I’m out of my element, but the man next to me manages to make me feel like I belong here.
“So, tell me what happened. Maybe a bit slower this time.” He smirks, and heat spreads through me. First from embarrassment from my rambling, but soon it transforms into something else. Understanding. This stranger with piercing green eyes looks at me like he understands. And the thought warms every molecule in my body.