I glance at my watch. He's nearly fifteen minutes late. Which means he's probably not coming. "Uh… I'm—"
The bell over the door jingles, and I stop mid-sentence, turning around to find Jax walking toward the bar, his fingers running through his thick hair. Much to my dismay, my heart goes into a full-on sprint. I hate that a man can do this to me. I hate that I want him. I hate the vulnerability because it's an all too familiar feeling, dredging up things I'd rather not contemplate.
"Ah, just in time," he says with a smile as he pulls the bar stool out next to me. To my surprise, he comes in for a hug, placing his muscular arm around me.
What in the hell do I do? Hug him back or just… I awkwardly return his hug, and he kisses my cheek lightly.
"It's great to see you again. Sorry I'm late. My partner was being a pain in the ass," he says as he takes a seat.
"It's fine. And, yeah, it's good to see you too." I can't seem to calm my racing pulse, and soon enough, that fidgety nervousness overtakes me, so I flag down the bartender.
"Now, I may be wrong here, but are you sure it’s good to see me?" He chuckles. "Seems like every time I see ya, you've got that little scowl on your face."
Ignoring his comment, I glare at him. "Do you want a drink?"
"No, I don't drink anymore,” he says with a slight smirk. “I quit last night." As the bartender approaches, Jax nods toward the top shelf. "Give me a double Jameson, neat." He motions to me. "And whatever she's having."
"Yeah, exactly what I thought," I mumble as I turn my attention to the man behind the bar. "And I'll have tequila, straight. Thanks."
Jax shoots me an impressed look. "I like your style. Sounds like we've had the same kind of week."
I toss my head back on a laugh. "Yeah, well, maybe. Who fucking knows?"
The second I glance at him, my nerves get the better of me. I don't know what the hell I’m doing here with him. This is only going to end in a disaster. Shit. Now he's smiling, and I damn near melt but manage to keep a straight face. I don't want him to know he has any kind of effect on me because that's when they know you’re vulnerable.
"So anyway…" I clear my throat. "Sorry I just kinda called you. I just, I don’t know." I shrug, my cheeks warming. "Needed to get out and, uh, yeah…"
The bartender places our drinks in front of us.
Jax immediately wraps his hand around his, tracing his finger over the glass. "Sweetheart, I’m working a case where, a few days ago, we pulled a girl in ten different pieces out of an abandoned house. Seeing your name pop up on my phone was the best thing to happen to me all day." He takes a long drink of his whiskey, his unfocused gaze straying toward the wall of liquor bottles, as if something is weighing heavily on his mind. "You use that number any time you want." He redirects his attention to me.
"Thanks." My leg is furiously bouncing. I bite my lip, struggling to come up with the appropriate thing to say. "And that sucks…"
"Sorry." He grins, taking another drink. "Probably a little too much information for you. I'm just… I don't know. It's just been a hellacious week." He scratches at his beard, shaking his head slightly.
I grab my drink and tip it back. Swallow. Then turn the glass up again. The cheap tequila burns my throat on the way down, but shit, I can't drink this fast enough.
He eyes me with a grin, shaking his head. "Fuck, I've been known as a drinker in my day, but tequila… fuck that. Too many bad experiences with Se?or Jose back in college."
"Yeah—" Another quick gulp. "I've not had any problems with it. Not yet at least." But at this rate, tonight may be my first…
"Well shit, there ought to be some sort of award for that."
"Oh, I'm sure there is…" And… here is that awkward silence. I stare at him, that dirty part of me wanting to undress him with my eyes. Imagine his heated, stifled breaths next to my ear as he has his way with me—
"You know, your conversation skills are quite impressive." He laughs.
"Oh, fuck you!" As soon as I say that, I cover my mouth with my hand. A Freudian slip he’ll never pick up on, hopefully.
"Hey now, this is only our second date. I don't think propositioning me for sex is very ladylike." That damn grin again. "Do you?"
I bite my lip, hard, and narrow my gaze. My foot is furiously shaking, making the small amount of tequila left in my glass slosh against the sides. What would that girl do? What would she say? "Trust me…" The alcohol is buzzing through me, making me not really care what comes out of my mouth. "That was not an offer." I laugh and tip the drink back again, smiling around the rim. I can be that girl after all.
He motions with his hand to catch the attention of the barkeep. "Bartender, another drink for the lady please." He shoots me a quick, mischievous glance. "And another one for me."
"If you're trying to get me drunk, too fucking late."
"I suppose that's why I heard from you tonight?"
"Maybe." I lightly touch his arm because that’s what that girl would do.