Read Online Caught Up in You by Sophie Swift - Free Book Online

for table 2,” Vee says to me, placing her serving tray down on the bar and bending down to tie her converse sneaker.
    I pull a clean pint glass from the rack and place it under the tap.
    Vee is dating a really nice stock broker who lives in the city. After three months of rejecting her advances, she finally gave up on me. She told me jokingly the first time she brought him into the bar, “I couldn’t wait for you forever, Blake.”
    And I nodded.
    I never expected her to.
    The door jingles and I look up. It’s still early. Our usual after-work rush doesn’t start for another thirty minutes. I’m surprised to see someone I don’t recognize walk through the door. It’s very rare that we get any non-locals in here.
    The girl who just walked in is so stunning, I completely forget that I’m pouring a beer. The cold liquid rushes over the top of the glass onto my hand. I jump out of my trance and release the tap, wiping my wet fingers on the towel that’s hanging on my shoulder.
    She approaches the bar and gives me a smile. It’s not the kind of smile that comes with an agenda. It’s just a simple, sweet, carefree smile that shows off a set of perfect white teeth.
    Her hair is the color of midday sun. It’s wound in tight curls that bounce off the tops of her shoulders, like they’re playing hopscotch on her fair, freckled skin.
    “Hi,” I say, abandoning the pint of Blue Moon, much to the annoyance of Vee who is still waiting for it. But I don’t care. I have to talk to this girl. It’s a need that I don’t even recognize. Because it doesn’t come from any place but the unfamiliar burning desire to simply hear her voice.
    “Hi,” she says, and just as I suspected, it’s the most precious thing I’ve ever heard. I look down, half expecting to see my heart in a puddle on the floor. “This is an interesting place.”
    And she has a British accent. Fuck.
    “What can I get you?” The words nearly gurgle out of my mouth. I’m feeling so unsmooth right now I barely recognize myself.
    She bites her lip as she studies the taps.
    Well, isn’t that just about the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen?
    “Hmmm. What do you recommend?” she asks.
    A date with me, I want to say but refrain. I know instantly that this is not the kind of girl to use sly pick-up lines on. She’ll run the other way.
    “Well, that depends. What are you in the mood for?”
    She slides onto a stool and puffs out a gust of air. Her breath smells like honey. “Well, I’ve just got off the plane from London and I’ve got to run errands with my cousin tonight, so anything that cures jet lag would be fantastic.”
    “Right,” I say, “I have just the thing.”
    Even though I don’t. Even though I don’t have a clue what cures jetlag. But I’m not about to say no to this girl. And I have a feeling I might never be able to say no to her.
    I start pouring liquids into a mixer, not even sure what I’m making. I just know that it has to be epic. It has to make her fall in love with me.
    No pressure or anything.
    “You said you’re here to see your cousin?” I ask.
    “Yes. She’s getting married this weekend. I’m a bridesmaid.”
    My mind instantly flashes to the image of this girl in a bridesmaid dress. Something pastel and strapless that shows off her pale skin and delicate shoulders.
    Aaaand now I’m hard.
    Perfect.
     I adjust my jeans as I finish the mysterious concoction and set it in front of her. She takes a sip and I hold my breath.
    Her reaction is perplexing. I can’t, for the life of me, tell if she likes it, or is trying to hide her gag reflexes.
    And that’s probably because I can’t, for the life of me, even remember what I put in it.
    “So?” I ask hopefully.
    She smiles. “It’s perfect.”
    You’re perfect , I think and nearly say it aloud.
    I lean forward on the bar, cupping my chin in my hand. “So, how long are you in town? Do you need like a tour guide or anything?”
    She giggles. “I didn’t