We shake, and I find myself hanging onto her hand longer than is strictly required. We stand like that for a heartbeat, then two. Until, finally, she subtly shakes her head and pulls her hand from mine.
“Well, I best get where I was going.” She nods toward the back of the room where the bathrooms are located.
Laughing out loud, I step to the side to allow her to precede me. “Seems we’re headed the same way.” With a shallow bow from the waist, I show for her to go ahead. “Ladies first.”
“Thank you.” She gifts me a beautiful smile before stepping past me.
Man that I am, I can’t resist watching her walk away, because – damn. Like I said, I’m out of sorts with the world, not blind. My hands itch to get ahold of that ass. Out of nowhere, a desire to get her under me slams into me. Hard.
Not quite what I’d expected to be feeling today of all days.
3
ELOISE
My sole objective when coming to Aces was to get well and truly blotto, and it seems I’m on my way to achieving said objective. I need the bathroom in the worst way, and sliding off the barstool, I can feel the effects of the alcohol I’ve so freely been chugging.
I take a moment to steady myself before heading for the ladies’. Not paying attention to where I’m going, I slam into what feels like a brick wall and stagger back a step. Large, warm hands wrap around my upper arms to steady me, and the most deliciously sinful voice says, “Sorry. You okay?”
Looking up, and up, my eyes finally connect with his. I’m pretty tall for a woman, at five-foot-nine, but he makes me feel positively small by comparison. The man’s got a good number of inches on me. I’m not exaggerating when I say he’s huge with a capital H. And hot, with that same capital H. Yummy.
“My apologies. That was totally my fault,” I stammer as I feel my cheeks heat with embarrassment. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“No harm, no foul,” he replies, his hands still firmly cupped around my upper arms. “Officer Mason, isn’t it?”
I frown. I don’t know this man. How does he know me? “Yes, but how do you know my name?” Giving him a thorough study, something sparks in the back of my brain. And then I remember. It’s been a while and, frankly, I’m surprised he recognizes me. “Oh wait, I remember you. You were at the hospital a while back after that author lady got run over, weren’t you?”
“Yeah, that’s right.” He sticks out a huge hand. “Xavier Dermott. But most people just call me Bear.”
Placing my far smaller one in his, I reply, “Eloise Mason.”
A moment, then another goes by, and he still doesn’t release my hand. And, honestly, I don’t really want him to. However, my bladder chooses then to remind me where I was headed before I slammed into him.
“Well, I best get where I was going.” I nod toward the bathrooms.
With a laugh so sexy my knees about buckle, he steps out of my way. “Seems we’re headed the same way.” Bear then bows. Bows. Who still does that? “Ladies first.”
“Thank you,” I manage to say, surreptitiously squeezing my thighs together. With just his voice, this man does things to me. My imagination takes flight at the thought of what other bits of him could do if simply his voice has me all hot and bothered. Holy Mother of Mercy.
I sashay past him, adding a little extra sway to my step, since I can feel his eyes on my ass. I’m not normally that girl, but today I’m just tipsy enough to do it and not feel self-conscious. I hear a “hot damn” muttered ever so quietly I almost missed it and grin to myself. At least I’m not the only one affected.
By the time I’m done in the ladies’, he’s back at his table, brooding into his beer. For a brief moment, I consider asking if I can join him, but there’s something about his expression that stops me. It’s a weird mix of sad, mad, and vulnerable, and I figure considering my own mood maybe it’s best to leave well enough alone.
Settling back onto my seat, I call for another round and contemplate what to do with the rest of my day. Maybe if I drink enough, I can simply go home and pass out. That way I don’t have to deal with my emotions, and in the morning, I can go back to living my life as if nothing’s wrong. Denial and avoidance are wonderful go-to mechanisms.
They won’t work forever. I know that. But for now, they work just fine.
A group of guys can be heard laughing as they come through the door of the bar. They provide a welcome respite from my thoughts, and I turn to look at them. I recognize one of them immediately from the incident I remember Xavier from, and doing another scan of their faces, I recognize the others too. They pause long enough to scout the room and, spotting “just call me Bear” sitting alone at his table, head his way.
He doesn’t appear to be thrilled to see his friends, but that doesn’t seem to perturb them. A lot of ragging and laughter ensues and finally, with ill grace, he indicates for them to join him. With a pang of sadness, I realize there’s no one I can lean on tonight to help me through what I’m feeling.
To be fair, I have no one but myself to blame as I’ve not told many people about the consequences of my most recent work injury. I couldn’t bear the looks of pity or sympathy as friends and family try to figure out what to say to me to make me feel better. Nothing anyone can say will make me feel better, so I simply avoided that conversation.
I could call my partner, but it’s not fair to ask him to give up what little downtime he has to spend with his own small family to listen to me cry into my drink. Feeling a presence beside me, I turn to find one of the guys standing next to me.
“Hey there. How’s it going?” he asks. He’s clearly waiting for the bartender to finish at the other end of the bar and is making small talk to pass the time.
“Good, thanks. How are you doing?”
