relax. “Which one of you is going to get me a drink?” Her eyes immediately settle on Zeke. I should have known she'd come out with me to find a target. Zeke is good looking, if you like that laid back, long-haired surfer boy look. He doesn’t appear very country, but when he speaks up and motions for Mallory to sit next to him, his good ole boy comes through loud and clear.
“ Well come on down here, darlin',” he says with a wink. “I'll get ya a drink.” She steps between Cole and me and quickly settles in next to Zeke.
“ This should be interesting,” I laugh, taking the empty stool next to Cole. I watch as he cautiously settles back in his seat. My sister and Zeke are already involved in a debate over which kind of whiskey is smoother, leaving me and Cole in an uncomfortable silence.
“ So, tell me, Whit,” he finally says. “How'd a girl like you end up here in a small town bar with your whiskey-drinking sister? You two didn't grow up in the same house, did you?”
“ Is it that obvious?” I take a drink from the beer that appeared in front of me, courtesy of Mallory's newest play thing. “Thanks, Zeke.” He gives me a quick nod and returns his attention to Mal.
“ She's a little more comfortable in this setting than you are,” Cole notes as his observation.
I fill him in on Mom and Dad's divorce and Mallory's and my past living arrangements. “I had a rough end to my sophomore year of college. Walked in on my boyfriend sleeping with another girl. So I'm here, staying with my mom and sister and using the summer to forget about being screwed over before I go back to college this fall.”
“That's tough.” I watch as he takes a drink, wrapping his lips around the mouth of that amber-colored bottle. Lucky bottle. If it had any feelings at all, it would be melting right now. I know I am. “So, he's your ex-boyfriend now?”
“ Absolutely,” I confirm. “Cheating is a deal breaker.”
“ Good to know.”
“ Which part?” I ask, enjoying the flirtatious expression on his face. “The ex-boyfriend part or the part about not putting up with cheaters?”
“ Both,” he answers. I don't think he has any idea how attractive he is to me in that moment. With the friendly boundaries dissolving between us with each passing minute, I really want him to just lay it out there and say he is interested. He looks so good in the ripped up jeans and the plaid button-up shirt he is wearing. Each short sleeve tightly hugs his biceps, showing off the scattering of tattoos he has. I carefully try to make out their designs—a lightning bolt, a trail of animal prints, the bottom of the tribal design, that I know wraps around his shoulder—nothing too over the top but still interesting enough to make me want a closer look.
“ What's this?” I reach my finger up and trail it down the animal tracks. I’m hoping he'll feel that spark that I feel every time he touches me. He flinches at my contact. Maybe I am reading this situation all wrong . He doesn’t want me to touch him. I quickly pull my hand back. “Sorry.”
He smiles and shakes it off. “It's okay. Your fingers are just cold from the bottle.” He nods at my beer. “They're deer tracks. I like to hunt.”
I point at the lightning bolt, not wanting to incur the same reaction to my touch that he just had. “And this one?”
“ Just a bad-ass looking lightning bolt,” he shrugs. “I just liked that one. Same with this one.” He raises up the sleeve on the opposite arm to reveal the tattoo I got a good look at earlier today. “Just something to do, I guess.”
“ I like them,” I admit, noting the way he smiled. “How about you?”
“ Do I like your tattoos?” He leans back in his seat, running his eyes over my bare shoulders and arms for ink. “Well, I don't see any.”
“ You're not going to.” I laugh. “Never got one. Thought about it,
“ Well come on down here, darlin',” he says with a wink. “I'll get ya a drink.” She steps between Cole and me and quickly settles in next to Zeke.
“ This should be interesting,” I laugh, taking the empty stool next to Cole. I watch as he cautiously settles back in his seat. My sister and Zeke are already involved in a debate over which kind of whiskey is smoother, leaving me and Cole in an uncomfortable silence.
“ So, tell me, Whit,” he finally says. “How'd a girl like you end up here in a small town bar with your whiskey-drinking sister? You two didn't grow up in the same house, did you?”
“ Is it that obvious?” I take a drink from the beer that appeared in front of me, courtesy of Mallory's newest play thing. “Thanks, Zeke.” He gives me a quick nod and returns his attention to Mal.
“ She's a little more comfortable in this setting than you are,” Cole notes as his observation.
I fill him in on Mom and Dad's divorce and Mallory's and my past living arrangements. “I had a rough end to my sophomore year of college. Walked in on my boyfriend sleeping with another girl. So I'm here, staying with my mom and sister and using the summer to forget about being screwed over before I go back to college this fall.”
“That's tough.” I watch as he takes a drink, wrapping his lips around the mouth of that amber-colored bottle. Lucky bottle. If it had any feelings at all, it would be melting right now. I know I am. “So, he's your ex-boyfriend now?”
“ Absolutely,” I confirm. “Cheating is a deal breaker.”
“ Good to know.”
“ Which part?” I ask, enjoying the flirtatious expression on his face. “The ex-boyfriend part or the part about not putting up with cheaters?”
“ Both,” he answers. I don't think he has any idea how attractive he is to me in that moment. With the friendly boundaries dissolving between us with each passing minute, I really want him to just lay it out there and say he is interested. He looks so good in the ripped up jeans and the plaid button-up shirt he is wearing. Each short sleeve tightly hugs his biceps, showing off the scattering of tattoos he has. I carefully try to make out their designs—a lightning bolt, a trail of animal prints, the bottom of the tribal design, that I know wraps around his shoulder—nothing too over the top but still interesting enough to make me want a closer look.
“ What's this?” I reach my finger up and trail it down the animal tracks. I’m hoping he'll feel that spark that I feel every time he touches me. He flinches at my contact. Maybe I am reading this situation all wrong . He doesn’t want me to touch him. I quickly pull my hand back. “Sorry.”
He smiles and shakes it off. “It's okay. Your fingers are just cold from the bottle.” He nods at my beer. “They're deer tracks. I like to hunt.”
I point at the lightning bolt, not wanting to incur the same reaction to my touch that he just had. “And this one?”
“ Just a bad-ass looking lightning bolt,” he shrugs. “I just liked that one. Same with this one.” He raises up the sleeve on the opposite arm to reveal the tattoo I got a good look at earlier today. “Just something to do, I guess.”
“ I like them,” I admit, noting the way he smiled. “How about you?”
“ Do I like your tattoos?” He leans back in his seat, running his eyes over my bare shoulders and arms for ink. “Well, I don't see any.”
“ You're not going to.” I laugh. “Never got one. Thought about it,
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