“Mayo?”
“Does a bear shit in the woods? Yes, mayo. Lots of it.”
Chapter Four
The West Inn was a swanky, upscale establishment Emma would never typically visit if not for her roommate tending bar there. The restaurant served overpriced fare that drew in snobby foodies from all over the tri-state area. Sometimes Riley brought home leftovers from the kitchen that smelled spectacular, but he rarely shared.
Once he left for work, she started getting ready. Who knew what the night would entail? After a long soak in the tub and a thorough exfoliation and shave, Emma rummaged through her closet for the perfect one-night-stand ensemble. When she spotted her wedding gown she punched the lace and shoved it deeper into the shadows.
She wanted to look attainable, but not desperate. Settling on a slinky, pale gray strapless dress, she bit her lip and debated accessories. In the end, she settled on four inch cream sandals and a necklace made of clunky ivory roses.
Grabbing her clutch, she locked the apartment and fidgeted the entire walk to the inn. The evening heat was refreshing against her neck and she was glad she’d pinned up her curls for a change. New woman, new look.
By the time she stepped through the heavy glass doors of the inn she was desperately in need of a drink. How did people do this? The idea that she might actually be having sex in a couple hours with someone she’d never met made her stomach slosh around like a plate of runny eggs on a tilt-a-whirl. There was a great chance she might throw up.
When she spotted Riley she let out a sigh of relief. Having him as her wingman definitely added to her courage.
Seeing he was busy with other customers, she slid onto a stool at the bar and waited. His head turned and he did a double take. His jaw unhinged, but he recovered with a grin. Noting his reaction, her confidence bolstered and she sat a little taller. She could do this.
Traveling to her, his gaze still crawling over her attire, he spoke before he fully reached her. “Holy shit, Emma, you look incredible.”
“Really?” Not used to being on display, every bit of his reassurance helped.
“Really. Can I get you a drink?”
Self-esteem strengthened, she relaxed. “I’ll take a bay breeze, but not a strong one.”
“You got it, Lothario.”
She shook her head. Him and his nicknames.
Scanning the crowd, she wondered if anyone there was a friend of Riley’s. He placed her cocktail on a napkin and slid it close.
“So do you know anyone here?”
“Is that going to be your opening line?” he asked.
She frowned. “No, I’m asking you. Are any of these people your friends?”
“Oh. No.”
She deflated. “You told your friends to come here, right?” She’d thought they’d reached an understanding.
“Yeah. Yeah. Your mission for French happiness. I’m on it.”
He was acting really strange and hyper. “What’s French happiness?”
“You know...” He curled his fingers in the air like he was twirling a mustache. Pinky up, he spoke in a terrible French accent. “Ah’penis. Happiness. Ah’penis. Get it?”
“Are you okay?”
He dropped his hand and went to take an order. While Riley was tied up making drinks a man in a suit took the stool beside her. “Hi.”
Trying to calm her smile, she bit her lips and took a deep breath. “Hi.”
“I’m Warren.”
That was a nice name. “Nice to meet you, Warren. I’m Emma.”
“You from around here, Emma?” He was cute. Dark skin, bald head, thick lips, deep voice, all things momma liked.
“Actually, I have a loft a few blocks from here.”
“My place is on the east side, but I’m also local. What do you do, Emma?”
She twisted, pointing her lady parts in his direction. “I’m a personal assistant at a law firm.”
“Really? I’m prelaw myself.”
Her enthusiasm staggered. “Oh.”
“Do you have an issue with lawyers?”
No, she didn’t think she did. Except for the fact that Becket was preparing to be one and he was a big, fat, cheating liar. “My ex was prelaw.”
“Really? When did you break up?”
She laughed nervously. “Last week. He dumped me, actually. When the bell rang I thought it was going to be my wedding gown, but nope. It was him, there to rip out my heart and shit on my dreams. But don’t worry. The dress came later that afternoon. Just. In. Time.”
Warren’s expression was blank and she realized she just turned into crazy girl.
“Oh.” Shaking her head with regret, she explained, “I’m really sorry about that. I hadn’t meant to dump all my drama on your lap. I mean, God, talk about diarrhea of the mouth. Blah!” She laughed. “I’m really not crazy. I’m just not used to this.”
Warren’s face was unreadable.
Riley approached and she grinned, relieved. “Ask him. He’s my roommate. He can vouch for my sanity.”
“I’m set.” Warren tapped the bar and walked away.
She winced as he fled.
Riley stared at her, eyes wide. “What the hell was that? Did I hear you use the word diarrhea?”
She folded her arms on the bar and dropped her face into darkness. “I suck at this.”
“Diarrhea is never a sexy word, Emma. Come on, you know better.”
Nodding, she sat up. “Can I have a refill?”
“Sure.” He replenished her drink and went to check on the other customers.
A guy in a slate gray shirt with a deep V collar sat beside her. “Is this seat taken?”
“No.”
“I’m Mark.” He held out his hand and she turned to shake it. Well, hello Mark.
He wasn’t as distinguished as Warren, but he also wasn’t hard to look at. “I’m Emma.”
“You look like you’ve had a rough night. Can I buy your next drink?”
She glanced behind him, about to agree, but hesitated as Riley waved his hands and shook his head mouthing no.
Trying not to be obvious, she smiled at Mark. “Sure.”
He turned and flagged over Riley, who now stood with his arms at his sides. “I’ll take a Strong Island Ice Tea and whatever the lady’s having.”
“A what?” Riley was usually so cordial to the customers, but at the moment he looked like he was preparing for an enema.
Mark chuckled and sent her a sidelong glance like they shared a secret. “It’s a Long Island with double the kick, if you get my drift.”
“Loud and clear, champ.” As Riley mixed their drinks he scowled at the man. He returned and slid two glasses forward.
“Thanks, bro.” Mark nodded and slid a twenty across the bar. “You go ahead and keep the change.”
Riley rolled his eyes and walked away.
“I always like to tip a little extra,” Mark explained. “Help out those working their way up the ladder.”
She grinned without showing teeth, omitting that Riley was her friend and, although his longer hair and shadowed jaw made him look like an ordinary civilian, his lineage was practically American royalty.
“Let’s you and I get a table and talk.”
Was that a question? “Sure.”
She followed him to a small booth in the corner. “So tell me a little about yourself, Emma.”
Cautious not to spill her guts again, she spoke slowly. “Well, I’m newly single and I’m sort of just looking for something easy and fun right now.”
“Right. Right. Do you work out? You look fit.”
Feeling a bit exposed, she shifted and sipped her drink. Was that a normal date question? “Not particularly.”
“I’m at zero percent body fat right now. That takes dedication, but that’s the kind of guy I am. I know what I want and I go for it. Hardcore. Always closing.”
Forcing herself not to laugh, as he was clearly devoted to these ideals, she considered how much bacon she ate on a
regular basis.
He said something about his car, but the sunglasses around his neck momentarily distracted her. It was dark out—put the glasses away.
“Tell me something about yourself, Emma. What’s your five year plan?”
Was she interviewing for a pyramid scheme? “Um... I’d like to find a new job.”
“Good. It’s important to push for more, always strive to be at the top of our game. Losers wait for motivation. Winners make things happen. Doesn’t matter what you do as long as you get out there every day and crush it.”
He was more exhausting than a preschooler, but if she looked hard enough, she could see his nipples through the cotton of his shirt. “Um... what was the question?”
“What are your goals?”
Finished with her drink, she stifled a giggle. Given the choice, Mark might ask to see her resume before her boobs. “I’d like to someday own a car less than a decade old.”
His brow lowered. “What?”
This was simply too much. “Look, Mark, I’m not in the market for anything serious right now. I do, however, think you’re cute. I’m just getting out of a really long relationship and the only thing in my plan is a guy capable of making me forget my ex for one night. Do you think you could be that guy?”
His expression was priceless, a cross between shock and fascination. “Do I...you want...me and you...I should...”
It was sort of fun being the aggressor in this instance. “Sex, Mark. I’m asking if you’re interested in having sex with me.”
A garbled string of chirps escaped his throat, sort of like a sentence of hiccups. “Y—yes.” He cleared his throat and dropped his voice an octave. “Yes. I would very much like to have sex with you.”
He was definitely more attractive when he was silent. “Good. Why don’t you order us each a shot and clear the tab? I’m going to freshen up and then we’ll head back to my place.”
“O—okay.”
She slid out of the booth and hid a smirk. The new her was ballsy. She liked it.
After using the ladies room and washing her hands, she gave herself a mental pep talk. Mark was perfect one-night-stand material. His personality was long-term repellant, an insurance that would prevent any attachment issues from unexpectedly cropping up. Plus, he was pretty and she was very interested in counting his abs with her tongue.
Stepping out of the ladies room someone snagged her arm and forced her to an abrupt stop. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Riley. Jesus. You scared me!”
“You can not go home with that douchebag. He keeps checking himself out in his phone.”
She yanked her arm out of his grip and tsked. “I’m not going to marry the guy, Riley. And he’s got reason to check himself out. He’s hot.”
His face scrunched up. “Ew. Come on, Emma. I feel violated thinking of him in our home. You can’t honestly be considering letting him in you.”
Her mouth unhinged as her cheeks burned. “Riley!”
“What? Look at him. He has a neck tattoo of a dollar sign.”
She shook her head. “You’re such a hypocrite. I’ve seen some of the women you’ve brought home. Talk about double standards—”
“Yes, Emma, it’s a double standard. Tough shit if you don’t like it. This guy’s a total piece of shit. He’s a condescending, superficial narcissist. I’m not telling you to give up on finding a hookup, but for Christ’s sake, raise the bar above a crawl and let someone better than that snake get by. Oh, and by the way, your big tipper doesn’t leave a dime when he’s alone.”
Glancing around the corner, she watched as Mark silently practiced schmoozing to himself. She deflated. “Fine.”
Riley seemed surprised she’d conceded. “Really?”
“Yeah. But I already told him it was a sure thing.”
“I can take care of that for you.”
“No.” She sighed. “I don’t want to embarrass him. I’ll do it.” He was already embarrassing himself enough, using the camera on his phone like a narcissist’s mirror app.
Pursing her lips, she returned to the dining room. Mark beamed, waving a hand over the shots he’d ordered. “All set?”
“Yeah, it’s not gonna happen, Mark. I’m sorry.”
“But...” His expression crumbled. “I thought...”
It was like giving a kid a new toy then snatching it away. “I’m really flattered that you would... but... I don’t think we’re the right fit.”
His head lowered in disappointment and guilt swamped her until his gaze lifted and all cocky signs of bravado returned. Brow quirked, duck lips out, and a penetrating smolder zeroing in on her, he cajoled, “Come on, Emma. You know it would be great. We have this incredible connection and—”
“Get out.”
They both turned and she stomped her foot. “Damn it, Riley!”
“You know this guy?” Mark asked, confused.
“We live together,” Riley answered before she had a chance. “Now, beat it.”
Mark stood, his eyes drifting from her to Riley and back to her. “Emma?”
“I’m sorry.”
Finally, he huffed and left the inn without much of an argument, which was mildly disappointing.
She glared at Riley. “That was unnecessary.”
He shrugged and strode to the bar. “I’m over it.”
“I could have been under it.”
His steps faltered as his face twisted. “Gross.”
“Serves you right.” She reached for the shot and tossed it back, unprepared for the burn of turpentine. “Son of a bee sting! What the hell is that?”
Riley shook his head. “Look at you. You’re not ready to have sex. That was schnapps.” He let out a long-winded sigh and walked away.
She placed the empty glass on the table with a snick and scoffed. “What do you mean I’m not ready to have sex? I am too ready to have sex. Don’t you walk away from me, Riley Morgan Lockhart. I’d have sex right here, right now if I saw any doable men, but all I see is you and you’re just a cock-blocking killjoy.”
He continued to shake his head as he returned behind the bar. “Are you done now?”
She scooted onto the stool. “No. Maybe. Yes. Ass.”
“We’re going to have to work on your insult repertoire.”
A man approached the bar and cleared his throat. “Excuse me, miss. I couldn’t help over hearing you were in the market for some company—”
“Get out of here!” she and Riley yelled at the same time and the man took off.
Unreal. She faced Riley and rolled her eyes. The entire predicament suddenly seemed hopeless and hysterical. Her palm covered her mouth as a fit of giggles escaped. His head tipped back as laughter barked out of him.
When they finally got their amusement under control, Riley passed her a soda. “I’m pretty sure you can have your pick of any man here—now that they all know sex is on the table.”
She snorted. “How sad is it that I’ve never had sex on a table?”
“Not what I meant, but good to know. Here’s a lesson on men, leave a bit of mystique. We like a challenge, the thrill of conquering. If you let them know sex is guaranteed, they’re sold, but they’re not gonna work for it. Even the unavailable assholes can sign up for a sure thing.”
“Gross. I’m not that desperate.”
He wiped away a spill. “You don’t have to be any level of desperate, Em. Just be you and eventually it’ll happen.” He crossed his arms and leaned on the bar. “You don’t want to sell yourself short and miss the best part.”
She arched a brow. “Which is?”
“That moment where all the desire builds into this bullet of need aimed to one target and then...pow.” He drew in a slow breath. “Chemical explosion. Lust. Need. Hunger. All those intense senses come into play and make...” He shrugged. “Ecstasy.”
She swallowed. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt ecstasy.”
“You will, but not with some douchebag yo
u search out at a bar. The connection has to be authentic.”
Massaging her forehead, she growled. “This is so hard. It never used to be this difficult.”
“It’s not that complicated. Stop trying so hard and just wait for it to happen. You’re so worried about selling yourself you’re overpitching.”
“But no one sees me if I don’t put myself out there.”
“They see you. You are out there. You’re here, in a bar, looking beautiful. That’s the appeal. Constant declarations of self-worth scream insecurity. Have faith in yourself. Being you is enough.”
Ashamed her insecurities made a spectacle of her first evening on the prowl, she decided to call it a night. What was she doing anyway? This wasn’t her.
Plucking the earrings from her lobes, she slouched forward and sipped her soda. “You’re pretty knowledgeable when it comes to women.” It freaked her out how in tune he was with her flawed logic. He knew her better than she knew herself in some cases.
“I get people. It’s part of being a bartender.” He rested his elbows on the counter. “I watch them, Emma. The women that come in here and lay it on thick, they’re as transparent as glass. Sure, they get plenty of company and free drinks, but that’s because they’re selling guarantees. They’re still paying. It’s a trade, their body and pride for a shallow impression of affection. They get exactly what they ask for, but nothing more. You deserve the more.”
“What’s the more?”
“Respect. There are ways to keep it casual and respectful, but you can’t rush into it.”
“You’re right. I should probably thank you for saving me from that guy.”
“Yeah you should. He was a tool.”
“Thank you,” she grumbled. Scooting off her stool, she grabbed her earrings and tucked them in her purse. “I think I’m heading home.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. The only guy I want to be with right now is Colin Firth.”
“Who?”
“He’s a British actor. I’ll see you at home.”
“Hey, Em...”
She turned. “Yeah?”
“I got more ice cream. One for me and one for you. They’re hidden in the back of the freezer behind the corndogs.”
Her face softened, as her opinion of him climbed another notch. Ice cream was exactly what she needed. Ice cream and maybe a good ugly cry. “Thank you, Riley.”