Nicky threw us an apologetic glance as her friends slid out of the booth to head over to the guys at the bar while we trailed behind.
Holy smokes! Mel wasn’t kidding. Their San Antonio Fire Department shirts confirmed that they were indeed firefighters, and each one was taller, more muscular, and hotter than the next.
The last one was especially hot. He was at least half a foot taller than me, maybe six feet. His navy-blue SAFD polo shirt hugged his chest and arms, more than hinting at the muscles underneath. His dark brown hair had a slight wave like it would curl if it was longer. He was gorgeous, the kind of guy I’d love to ogle from afar where there was no possibility of having to talk to him, because there was no doubt he’d make me tongue-tied. I kept my smile pasted on as we were all introduced, trying not to be obvious in my search for an escape.
“Hi, Juliette. I’m Dylan.” His deep, warm voice cut through my mounting panic.
I smiled—or tried to, at least—and waved, hoping it didn’t look as awkward as it felt. Oh shit, he had his hand out to shake. I dropped my hand toward his like I’d planned that all along, a hot flush spreading across my cheeks. Why didn’t I run away when I had the chance?
“Uh, hi. I’m Juliette.” Shit, what was I saying? He knew my name.
“Pleasure to meet you, Juliette,” Dylan said smoothly, ignoring my bumbling reintroduction.
His hand surrounded mine, and it felt more like we were holding hands than sharing a brief, polite greeting. I looked up in surprise and found his gaze already on me. His eyes were a deep, dark brown that conjured thoughts of molten dark chocolate, warm, delicious, and oh so tempting. He smiled at me, his teeth perfect and a small curve to his lips, so sweet that I couldn’t resist smiling back.
His warm hand still held mine, as did his beautiful eyes, and his smile grew. Warmth—his warmth—radiated from his touch, up my arm and through my body. I didn’t want him to let go. I didn’t want to run away. I don’t know what it was about him that caused me to have such a visceral reaction, but I knew I’d never had it before. I knew I liked it. A lot.
My mind raced for the next thing to say. Anything to prolong this moment. “Um…”
“Hey,” Jenna interrupted. “They’re heading back there.” She pointed at the back of the bar where there were a few high-top tables, pool tables, and a dart board.
I didn’t know if I should be annoyed or grateful for the interruption.
Jenna took a step and waited for me to follow.
“After you.” Dylan put a hand out, indicating for me to go.
I walked ahead with Jenna, hyperaware of Dylan following behind me. One foot in front of the other, eyes straight ahead. Ignore Dylan. I could do it. I just had to walk across the room without tripping, bumping into anyone or anything, spilling my drink, or any one of the dozens of clumsy things I could do. Things I’d done before. Easy.
The good news is I made it through the bar without embarrassing myself. The bad news is, the second I walked into the slightly separated back room, the noise assaulted me. There was no way I was talking to Dylan in this chaos. Our friends were gathered around a few high tops, talking over each other to be heard across the tables. This was why I hated bars. And groups of people. And meeting the sexiest guy I’d ever seen, with a sweet smile and friendly yet intense eyes, who didn’t flinch when I said something stupid, who held my hand a touch too long, leaving behind the imprint of his huge, warm hand and his callused fireman’s fingers that were still sending tingles vibrating through me in said bar. In a group of people. In the exact situation that brought out the worst of my dyspraxia.
I pulled Jenna with me and squeezed between Nicky and her colleagues, leaving no room for Dylan to follow. He found a spot on the other side with the firefighters. Good. It was easy to look at him, but didn’t invite conversation.
“Sorry,” Jenna whispered into my ear. “Everyone else came back here, and I didn’t know it would be so much louder.”
“It’s okay.” I hated the contrite look in her eyes. She didn’t want to leave me alone with him, nor did she want to be out there with just us, and I’d never hold that against her. I hugged her, hoping she felt everything I couldn’t say.
I felt Dylan’s eyes on me, so I kept my eyes on the firefighter who was talking—a blond, surfer-dude looking guy—and nodded at whatever he’d said. There were at least two conversations going on. He was talking about a movie—I think the new Avengers movie, or maybe they were comparing the new one to the older ones—and some of Nicky’s friends were talking to a couple of the firefighters about firefighting, oohing and aahing and flirting. Why did it bother me so much that they might flirt with Dylan if there wasn’t a chance in hell that I was going to? I’d rather streak naked through the bar than talk in this loud crowd.
I nodded along with whatever Nicky had said, hoping it looked like I was part of the conversation while I tried to sneak subtle peeks at Dylan. My skin prickled when one of the guys, Brady I think, turned to Nicky and asked her a direct question. Shit. No way was I waiting to see if I’d be next.
“Hey,” I said quietly to Jenna. “Want to play pool?”
“Yes!” Her relief was palpable. She didn’t mind talking to people like I did, but I could tell the guys were making her uncomfortable. As friendly as they were, they were big and sexy and exuded this alpha male confidence that couldn’t be missed.
Jenna told Nicky where we were going while I headed towards the farther table. I was okay at pool—not good, but not horrible. At least it gave me the time I needed to strategize, not just react to a ball flying at my face like most sports.
Jenna and I started playing, and we were a fantastic team in our unique way. We forewent the traditional rules and just had fun. Jenna hit whichever balls she could reach without leavingher spot on the wall side of the table, a safe distance away from everyone, and I stood across from her facing the wall, where I could try to ignore anyone who might be watching while I tried to hit the balls from my side. Maybe it was the drinks we’d had earlier, or maybe it was the relief at getting away from the others, but for whatever reason, we were completely invested in the game with mock seriousness. It wasn’t easy to hit the balls, though, when we were laughing so hard at how badly we were playing.
“Dylan is watching you,” Jenna said just as I lined up a shot.
“Some friend you are. That’s a mean way to make me miss.”
“I’m serious.”
“For real?”
Jenna nodded.