door.
“I’m sorry, it’s a nervous habit.” She cleared her throat and glanced down at her expensive shoes. “No, my boyfriend didn’t buy my car. He’s a med student.”
“And I’m just a guitar player in a garage band, is that it?” He stared at her as if he could see into her mind, and he didn’t like what he saw.
“No, it’s not like that,” she tried to argue. But that was exactly how it was. Ben was good in bed, but what would her parents do if she brought him home?
“Who bought your designer shoes?” He was starting to sound angry.
She was starting to get pissed as well. How in the hell was it his business who bought her shoes, or her car? “Why, are you jealous?”
“Maybe,” he stated honestly. “My father just had a heart attack. I’ve been sitting by his bedside, and meeting with doctors and comforting my mother. I had hoped for a little more sympathy, and a little less hostility.”
She paused and reflected for a moment. She had no idea why she was being so nasty to him. She came to the bar with the best intentions. “My boss had a heart attack too, oddly enough,” she finally said after several moments.
“At the restaurant?” he asked, as he searched her eyes.
She looked away momentarily as she said, “Sure.”
She was a terrible liar. He knew immediately. He wondered what she was hiding, because he knew it was something big. “Are you a stripper?”
“No!” she exclaimed emphatically. But she was flattered that he thought she could make enough money showing off her body to afford a sixty thousand dollar car.
“Drug dealer?” he continued. “Hooker?”
That offended her. “Of course not.”
“How are you paying for that car?” he demanded to know.
“It’s none of your fucking business,” she snapped.
“You’re not a waitress, though?” he asserted.
“What difference does it make what I do for a living?” She was yelling now.
His cheeks were flushed, and his nostrils flared. “Because I want you to stop lying to me!” He flinched as he said it, and he exhaled loudly as he realized that he was lying to her too.
“What do you want me to say?” She didn’t yell. It was barely a whisper.
“Fuck you. I’m done arguing,” he said, as he turned and climbed up into the truck, as angry at himself as he was at her. “The next time I have a gig I’ll text you. Maybe we can fuck.”
* * *
He peeled out of the parking lot, and sped back to his townhouse. He’d really hoped to get some tenderness from her. He knew she was capable, but apparently not really interested. He’d never met a girl like her, which is why he was so attracted to her in the first place.
He’d renovated his first floor great room, which was connected to his garage, into a gym. He exited his truck and walked toward the weights. He needed to burn up some of this sexual frustration he was feeling toward her, or he would ignite.
He breathed in and out as he curled dumbbells. He was going to break off his engagement to a decent girl. For what? For someone whom he didn’t even know? He was a fool, and Lyn was the cause. Her innocent face and dreamy eyes captivated him. But she wasn’t what she seemed, and he had no idea what she was. Except he was sure she was a liar.
But wasn’t he as well?
He continued to lift, and tried not to think about her. He made his way upstairs afterward to shower, and found four pairs of women’s underwear, her underwear, lying on his bed. He swiped at them, causing them to tumble onto the floor.
He was tired of all of it. He would forget about Lyn, whose last name he didn’t even know, and concentrate on his wedding with Mara. That was how his life was supposed to go. They would get married, have babies, and he’d go into politics.
He didn’t need some lying chick in a bar to screw up his entire life’s
“I’m sorry, it’s a nervous habit.” She cleared her throat and glanced down at her expensive shoes. “No, my boyfriend didn’t buy my car. He’s a med student.”
“And I’m just a guitar player in a garage band, is that it?” He stared at her as if he could see into her mind, and he didn’t like what he saw.
“No, it’s not like that,” she tried to argue. But that was exactly how it was. Ben was good in bed, but what would her parents do if she brought him home?
“Who bought your designer shoes?” He was starting to sound angry.
She was starting to get pissed as well. How in the hell was it his business who bought her shoes, or her car? “Why, are you jealous?”
“Maybe,” he stated honestly. “My father just had a heart attack. I’ve been sitting by his bedside, and meeting with doctors and comforting my mother. I had hoped for a little more sympathy, and a little less hostility.”
She paused and reflected for a moment. She had no idea why she was being so nasty to him. She came to the bar with the best intentions. “My boss had a heart attack too, oddly enough,” she finally said after several moments.
“At the restaurant?” he asked, as he searched her eyes.
She looked away momentarily as she said, “Sure.”
She was a terrible liar. He knew immediately. He wondered what she was hiding, because he knew it was something big. “Are you a stripper?”
“No!” she exclaimed emphatically. But she was flattered that he thought she could make enough money showing off her body to afford a sixty thousand dollar car.
“Drug dealer?” he continued. “Hooker?”
That offended her. “Of course not.”
“How are you paying for that car?” he demanded to know.
“It’s none of your fucking business,” she snapped.
“You’re not a waitress, though?” he asserted.
“What difference does it make what I do for a living?” She was yelling now.
His cheeks were flushed, and his nostrils flared. “Because I want you to stop lying to me!” He flinched as he said it, and he exhaled loudly as he realized that he was lying to her too.
“What do you want me to say?” She didn’t yell. It was barely a whisper.
“Fuck you. I’m done arguing,” he said, as he turned and climbed up into the truck, as angry at himself as he was at her. “The next time I have a gig I’ll text you. Maybe we can fuck.”
* * *
He peeled out of the parking lot, and sped back to his townhouse. He’d really hoped to get some tenderness from her. He knew she was capable, but apparently not really interested. He’d never met a girl like her, which is why he was so attracted to her in the first place.
He’d renovated his first floor great room, which was connected to his garage, into a gym. He exited his truck and walked toward the weights. He needed to burn up some of this sexual frustration he was feeling toward her, or he would ignite.
He breathed in and out as he curled dumbbells. He was going to break off his engagement to a decent girl. For what? For someone whom he didn’t even know? He was a fool, and Lyn was the cause. Her innocent face and dreamy eyes captivated him. But she wasn’t what she seemed, and he had no idea what she was. Except he was sure she was a liar.
But wasn’t he as well?
He continued to lift, and tried not to think about her. He made his way upstairs afterward to shower, and found four pairs of women’s underwear, her underwear, lying on his bed. He swiped at them, causing them to tumble onto the floor.
He was tired of all of it. He would forget about Lyn, whose last name he didn’t even know, and concentrate on his wedding with Mara. That was how his life was supposed to go. They would get married, have babies, and he’d go into politics.
He didn’t need some lying chick in a bar to screw up his entire life’s
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