Page 6 of Cade

“It’s Cade,” I answered, as Max finally reached us and my dreamboat mystery man barked out an order of one Sam Adams and one glass of Oban on the rocks.

Max shot me a look I could only describe as judgmental, much like the one an older sister would give when you bring home the captain of the Lacrosse team for “study time.”

Give me a break, Max!

Like you wouldn’t accept a drink from a guy like...

Shit, I didn’t even know his name. Either the alcohol was already getting to me, or Dawson was right, and I’d been cooped up too long mourning a breakup to the point I’d forgotten how to people.

“Should I call you Oban-Wan Kenobi or...” I regretted the words the minute they were out of my mouth, realizing how utterly stupid they sounded in reality. I’d always been terrible when it came to pick up lines. I thanked the stars every day for the invention of the dating app.

Truly, this shit is for the birds.

Max slid me my beer, shaking her head.

A little support would be nice, Max.

“I regret to inform you, young Padawan, I am not the Ewan McGregor you seek. Unfortunately,” Hottie McSuit said with a sly grin.

“Although I can destroy that precious mouth of yours like the Phantom Menace...” He winked at me, those delicious lips curving into a delectable smile, and my insides heated at the very sight.

Max rolled her eyes as she slid him his drink.

I knew then I should walk away. Take my drink, say thanks, and get the hell away from this selfish, sexy pile of sin who was causing my damn cock to twitch.

But I just didn’t know how to say no to pretty assholes like him.

Just as I opened my mouth to speak, the man took a sip of his drink, appraising me with an endearing gaze.

“It’s Weston.”

“Well, Weston, I appreciate the drink,” I said, flashing him with a cheeky grin of my own as I watched him take a sip of his drink.

“Well, perhaps you can pay me back?” he said with a raised eyebrow and I half thought he was going to ask me right then and there if I’d like to go home with him, and not even bother with pleasantries.

Weston didn’t exactly seem like the type to beat around the bush, and I knew even though I shouldn’t I’d probably say yes. After all, I knew Weston wasn’t from around Jasper Springs, and maybe a dreamy, once in a lifetime fuck was just what I needed to move on from Billiard-No-Brains and get back to being a functional, stable adult.

Instead of the isolated, Netflix-binging, ice cream-eating hermit I’ve become. That’s how it always works in the movies, anyway.

“Oh yeah, and how exactly do you expect me to... pay you back...” I nearly choked, thanks to swallowing a little too much beer.

I’m freaking hopeless...

Weston had the audacity to look at me like a little orphaned puppy as he drained his drink, pointing to the stage.

“Sing with me.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said, feeling a sense of panic. Karaoke really wasn’t my thing, but something about the way Weston looked at me, his dark green eyes full of mischief, I felt... tempted. Comfortable, even.

“I’ll make it easy. You can even pick the song,” Weston said as he ran a hand over his shirt, smoothing out the miniscule wrinkles that probably only he could see.

Either that or he’s just trying to get me to look at his chest, at the buttons he’d popped.

Which I’m powerless to resist...

“I’m not a very good singer,” I said as I watched him set down his beer.

“Who said anything about being good? This isn’t American Idol. I just want us to have some... fun.”

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