Page 7 of Somewhere You Belong

Her eyes narrow on me now as she slides her tongue across her teeth, her lips still closed. “Can I have a dirty martini with three olives,please?” she grates, clearly irritated with the challenge I dished out. But I don’t care who you think you are or where you’re from, manners go a long fucking way.

“There’s the magic word.” I dip my chin and say, “Coming right up.” I push off the bar and reach to the side, gathering a glass to make her drink, fighting the urge to look up at her again. But I can feel her watching me, tracking each one of my movements as if I might try to poison her after our exchange. When I’m done, I slide the drink across the bar to her. “Here you go.”

“Thank you,” she punctuates her reply as she takes a sip of her drink, smacking her lips in approval, and then moves her gaze back to her phone, ignoring me once more.

Irritation runs through me, so I take the opportunity to check on other customers, even move to the kitchen to make sure the cooks have everything they need and refill their cups with ice water. It gets hot as hell back there, so I try to keep them as comfortable as possible.

Back out in the front of the restaurant, I make sure to keep my distance from the woman that captivated me when I have no idea why. Everything about her screams red flag.

But she also got your blood pumping, didn’t she, Dallas?

My eyes drift over to her casually as I stand behind the bar again, taking note that her drink is empty. Reminding myself that she’s stilla customer, I inhale deeply and then make my way over to where she’s sitting. “Care for another?”

She bites her lip, staring at her drink, and then up at me—the movement so calculated it almost makes me think that she’s flirting with me. But then she speaks. “Are you going to make me saypleaseagain?”

The corner of my mouth tips up this time, in response to her wit. “Of course. Manners are important, ma’am.”

“Ma’am?” She scoffs. “Yup. I’m definitely not in the city anymore.”

A city girl, huh? I wonder which one. Raleigh? Atlanta?

Why do you care, Dallas? Just make her a god damn drink.

Before I can fire off a witty reply, she sighs. “Well, I guess I can’t argue with an appreciation for manners. I’ll have another,please. It will help take the edge off this long-ass day.”

As I pour the gin and reach for the olives again, I take a moment to appreciate the fact that she cussed, revealing a little crack in the shield she wears.

Personally, I love a woman that can use profanity and not feel ashamed about it. I think it shows confidence in who they are and how they communicate. It shows authority too.

My mouth starts moving without permission. “You don’t seem like you want to be here.”

She huffs, flipping her phone upside down. “Not at all, actually.”

“And you don’t seem like you’re from around here either.”

“Nope.” She pops the p.

I study her as I slide her drink across the bar. “Then what brings you to Carrington Cove? Most people are either from here or they’re on vacation. Clearly, you’re neither.”

She swirls the liquid around in her drink, reaching for the stick of olives, placing it in her mouth before drawing it back out with one less olive attached. She locks her eyes with mine as I watch her chew, trying not to get lost in the visions my mind is conjuring of what else those red lips could be used for.

Finally she sighs. “You don’t need to do this.”

“Do what?”

“That small-town thing where you attempt to strike up a conversation to be polite. No offense, but I have no intention of being here long enough to establish some sort of repertoire with the townsfolk.”She darts her eyes around the room. “I’m here on business. Shouldn’t be here more than a few days, I imagine. Just need to tie up a few loose ends.”

“I see.”

She takes another drink from her martini. “And believe me, this is the last place I thought I’d ever end up.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I stand against the bar, growing more curious about this woman, even though my brain is telling me to walk away.

But I’m a man—when do we ever listen willingly to our brains?

“And why is that? Carrington Cove is a great place.”

“Ha. Yes, well, to someone like you, I guess that makes sense.”

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