Chapter One
Sarah
I’d never been to the bar down the street from my apartment, even though I’d lived in the neighborhood for three years. I wasn’t a big drinker, and on the rare occasion that I enjoyed a glass of wine, it was usually paired with dinner at my home.
But home didn’t feel like a safe haven anymore, especially tonight. And I needed some alcohol to take the edge off my sadness.
So, I walked into the place with its mahogany bar and brass accents. There was warm lighting coming from bare Edison bulbs hanging from the ceiling and soft jazz music playing from speakers discreetly mounted in the corners of the room. There was an intimate feel to the bar, with velvet covers on padded chairs at wooden tables and barstools with backrests.
There was a low murmur of conversation among the people scattered around the bar, men and women sitting at the tables and lined up on the stools.
It wasn’t a dive, and the type of customer here reflected the sophistication of the place. Men in business attire that looked like they were grabbing a beer after work and couples that ordered from the limited food menu. As was often the case in bars, most people were here with others, socializing, but there were a few like me, alone.
I idly wondered what some of their stories were, what brought them here on this cool fall evening. For me, it was heartache and bitterness wrapped up in regret. I couldn’t be inmy apartment while my ex was packing his stuff. That was too painful and even more awkward.
It wasn’t crowded, probably because it was a Thursday evening, so I had my pick of places to sit. I chose to go to the bar.
Along the way, I passed a table of three men, all in slacks and button-up shirts. They were probably in their late twenties, and each of them was reasonably attractive. But my eyes slid away from them, even as the one with blond hair sent a flirtatious smile my way.
I wasn’t here for that tonight.
Taking a seat on a stool at the end of the bar, I waited for the bartender to notice me.
“What can I get for you tonight?” the bartender asked when he made his way over. He placed a cardboard coaster on the bar in front of me.
“I don’t drink much, so can I just get a cocktail? Something fruity and sweet?”
I felt like an idiot, but the bartender gave me a kind smile and turned to grab a shaker. I watched as he poured in various liquors, some kind of fruit juice, and what looked like a simple syrup. He was efficient, and in just a few minutes, I had an orange drink with a frilly toothpick speared through it.
I lifted it to my mouth and took a sip just as one of the men from the table I walked past approached me. It was the blond one, and he allowed his eyes to trail over me from head to toe as he settled himself on the empty stool beside me, moving it closer in the process so that our knees were nearly toughing.
“Hi, I’m Dane,” he said, and there was something almost smug about his smile. I recognized the look. My ex was likethat, oozing self-assuredness that I convinced myself was an attractive quality.
Sure, confidence was sexy, but my ex-boyfriend, Jason, took it just far enough to be arrogant. That was probably what led him to think he could be unfaithful, and I’d forgive him. Even when he showed up this evening to pack up his stuff, the brief conversation we had showed me that he still expected me to get over my ‘tantrum’ so we could move past hismistake.
He seriously called screwing my boss a mistake, when we both knew it was a choice he made over and over for a month before I finally found out and ended our relationship. Now, I was newly single and needed to find a new job because there was no way I could keep working for the bitch who stole my boyfriend.
Dane, with lust-filled eyes and a cocky smirk, reminded me way too much of Jason. It was a massive turn-off for me, and I decided to be blunt.
“Sorry, Dane,” I said, not introducing myself because I didn’t want to encourage him. “I’m not looking for a date tonight.”
“What about some friendly company?”
I shot an unimpressive glance his way before I focused my attention on lifting the toothpick out of my drink and eating the cherry, which tasted like sugar with a hint of rum.
“No, thanks,” I said dismissively.
It would have been impossible for my lack of interest to be misunderstood, yet the man leaned one elbow on the bar and looked way too much like he was getting comfortable.
“Don’t be prickly, sweetheart. If you give me a smile, I’ll buy your next drink.”
His audacity shocked me. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to yell at him or laugh in his face. Before I could decide, another voice joined our conversation, a man who was already sitting at the bar alone when I arrived.
“The lady said to back off.” The man’s voice was deep, and when I looked his way, I was immediately struck by how handsome he was.
Even sitting on a barstool, he was obviously a tall man and built with the kind of body that sent heat through me in a rush. Broad chest and shoulders, flat—probably sculpted—abs, and thick thighs.
It occurred to me that I was ogling him a little too obviously, so I returned my gaze to his face, relieved to find that his eyes were locked on Dane. The glare he leveled at Mr. Pushy was dark and intimidating.