Her Rebound Guy. Jennifer Lohmann
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was still watching him as he returned with two drinks and a report of snacks. Carefree as he was—or as he was pretending to be, considering the story he’d told her about how he got into journalism—her staring didn’t seem to bother him. “It’s not dinner,” he said as he sat down and told her what he ordered. “But we could go get dinner, if you want.”
She cocked her head. “You just ordered us another drink.”
“Well, yes.” He looked amused and she wasn’t sure what he was smiling about until he said, “Am I just a two-drink dude, or might you want dinner even after that second drink?”
“Oh!” He’d told her that personal and revealing story, which was sweet, but that he liked her well enough to think even an hour into the future hadn’t occurred to her. She’d been thinking well over an hour into the future, but she’d been thinking about how good his black hair would look against her white sheets. Dinner hadn’t played a part in any of those thoughts.
“Let’s see how we feel after this second drink and round of snacks. Maybe we won’t need dinner,” she said.
For a moment, she thought she saw the hurt of rejection flitter over his face, but then he seemed to consider what else she might mean. He put his hand on the table, palm up. “No dinner, huh?”
Emboldened by the soft lighting and a little alcohol, Beck put her hand on top of his. “Maybe no dinner. Depends on how hungry we are.”
He raised an eyebrow. They were holding hands, or not quite. When he curled his fingers, the tips brushed her palm and she could feel his touch in her toes. “Does it also depend on what we’re hungry for?”
“Yes.”
“Your lead, Beck.” Their hands were still touching, hers on top, both with the ability and acknowledgment that she could pull away at any moment. That he wanted her to be touching him, but wouldn’t argue if she felt otherwise. She relaxed her arm, letting her palm fall onto his and curled her fingers around the side of his hand.
His recognition that she could say no made her want to say yes. It made her want to scream “yes” as he was on top of her, maybe kissing her neck.
Sex with a near-deadly handsome near stranger was an option to her now. She could take this man home with her. She could go home with him. The realization made her feel almost two feet taller. And she certainly felt stronger. There had been moments during her separation when she had realized that she could make her own choices, but for the first time, she felt like she was in control.
The second feeling was different and it was heady.
She didn’t lift her hand when their snacks were brought over. He didn’t move his hand, either, and they both switched off drinking and eating with the other hand. She didn’t want to let him go.
Over their second round of drinks, he asked her about her job. Her second cocktail buzzed through her head. The room was dim. So, when he asked her what she liked about her job, she felt comfortable enough to confess the truth. “Honestly, it’s been hard. I’m not a wedding planner and people come to my restaurant for other types of celebrations, but mostly it’s weddings. I talk to a lot of excited brides who are certain that this is forever and, well, that’s hard right now.”
She looked at the bar for a moment, studying the bartender’s movements and the way the woman leaned into customers she liked and leaned away from the ones she didn’t. Once she felt less immersed in her own pain, she turned her attention back to Caleb. “It’s a little easier now than it was. I’m no longer angry at my ex, at the world and especially at the happy couples.”
She paused to take a sip of her cocktail. “Work is easier when I can celebrate with my customers, instead of pretending.”
“Newly divorced, then?” he asked.
“My divorce went through...” She paused, pleased the date didn’t pop into her head immediately. “A couple weeks ago.”
She pressed her lips together, but the words slipped out anyway. “You’re my first date since Neil left. God, which makes you my first date in over ten years.”
He sat up straight, which amused her. He had looked so good when he was relaxed and easy in his chair. Sitting up straight, shoulders back, chin lifted didn’t seem to fit his romantic, sensual lips. “Am I? Well, then, I shall be extra good tonight.”
“You would treat me differently because I haven’t had a date in forever?” For reasons she couldn’t put her finger on, she found that offensive.
“I remember what it was like to be divorced. I felt like I was hunting around for the real Caleb, who I was without my ex around. I didn’t know what I wanted or why. The first woman I went on a date with gave me time to figure myself out. And she was patient when I freaked a little. It’s a gift I would like to pass on to you.”
She still eyed him suspiciously. “Should I worry that you’re too perfect?”
“No pressure is the point. No one needs pressure, but you especially don’t need it now.”
“So, am I going to be disappointed by man number two that I date?”
He shrugged. “I can’t speak for man number two. I hope not. But I understand men can be shits. I’m probably a shit more than I realize. Or would admit to.”
She laughed. She couldn’t help herself. He was open and disarming. It was almost an impossible combination to resist. She picked up the last olive and popped it in her mouth, and then took a sip of the last bit of her drink. “Let’s go,” she said, tightening her fingers so that she had a hold on his hand.
“Dinner?” he asked.
“I have food at my house.” She could make her own choices and she was choosing him. At least for tonight.
“Are you okay to drive?”
She turned her head and knew the answer immediately. “No.”
“Are you okay to invite me home?”
“Yes.” She bit her bottom lip, but in for a penny, in for a pound. “I think I made the decision to bring you home when you put your hand out. I didn’t need the second drink to loosen my inhibitions, but I did want to talk with you more.”
“Give me a chance to mess up,” he said, but he was smiling and there was no malice in his voice.
“I like to think I was giving you a chance to succeed beyond your wildest dreams.”
“Tell you what. I’ll go and close out our tabs. We can add your drinks to my bill. We’ll get a takeout pizza from the place down the street so you don’t have to make us dinner. Then we’ll head to your place.”
“Are you giving me a chance to change my mind?” For some reason, the idea that he might be doing that pissed her off. She appreciated the lack of pressure. She didn’t need to be treated like a child.
“Hell, no.” He caught her gaze and the air between them practically caught fire. “I’m hungry. I like pizza. And I plan on stripping your clothes off as soon as we step through your door.” He hadn’t needed to tell her his plans; she could read them in his slow, sensual smile. “That won’t leave you time to make us dinner.”
“Okay,” she said with a nod as she scooted out of the booth. She wanted this. She wanted him.
She waited by the door, watching while he paid for their food and drinks. His body was long and lean. He’d slouched and practically relaxed all through drinks, but he was also in control of each part from tip to toe. He lounged because he was completely comfortable in his body, not because he was lazy. He rolled with that confidence as he walked toward her. “Ready?”
“Yes,” she answered as she slipped through the open door.
Out on the street, she took the elbow he offered and sank against him for the walk to the pizza