Page 36 of Throttle

Tequila

This man resembles the ones you read about in romance novels. Every aspect of him is near perfection. From the way he dresses. The sleek dress pants hugging his figure and button down with the rolled sleeves showing off his veiny arms. To his smile. The natural texture of his hair is thick and wavy.

He’s pretty. Beautiful. Not having a motorcycle or tattoos wasn't a problem. He is a complete gentleman. It's an uncommon occurrence. The men you meet at dance clubs rarely prove to be this incredible. Any woman would consider herself lucky to have him. Standing in line holding a sign: pick me, choose me.

“I own my company. Real estate.” He flashes his pearly white teeth, proud of his career.

He's in a good place financially. The man seated on the checkered blanket before me is handsome, striking, and attractive. If I chose to marry and have children, he would be my choice. Say goodbye to living in a rundown apartment building in a dangerous neighborhood with questionable neighbors. Working every day without the fear of unpaid gas bills or unexpected morning visits. While achieving my own success, it would be comforting to have a reliable partner by my side.

Once I replied, we started texting and soon after he requested we go out, and I could not refuse. I couldn't ignore this chance. I needed to find out firsthand what made this Caleb person so special.

Additionally, I had to discover a flaw. Something. Anything that screamed… run and never turn back. All I've found is a successful and generous man who has the potential for Hollywood success. Not to mention his idea of a first date was to bring me here for a charming picnic.

Yes, a picnic.

While drinking my wine, I contemplate if this is a figment of my imagination. I am considering leaning closer and giving his radiant cheeks a gentle pinch. Or not because that’s weird.

Today's weather is a stroke of luck. It’s warm, and the slight breeze eases the heat from the sun. Sitting on a picnic perfect blanket, sipping a very expensive wine, eating fancy cheese.

I love cheese.

What's the reason behind my strong wish for this to fail?

“Your own real estate company? That's quite impressive, I must say.”

“Thank you. It requires a significant amount of effort, but the result is worth it. And you said you’re a bartender. If you let me know where, I'll swing by for a drink.”

He replenishes my glass.

“It’s a somewhat exclusive bar. Not open to visitors,” I lie because I cannot imagine bringing Caleb to the Chains’ clubhouse. The place is not meant for everyone.

“Hmm.” He rubs his freshly shaved jaw. “It must be a fancy spot for it to be so closed off and private.”

My snort reverberates through the wine glass. “I suppose so.” Great, now I’m lying to him for the second time. On our first date.

The club isn’t trashy. It's nice, but my guess is Caleb has been to far better places.

As I set my drink on the grass, I lean back on my palms and enjoy the comforting heat of the sun. It wasn’t until I turn and glance at him that I realize he’s watching. His gaze piercing into me like a knife.

“You’re beautiful. You know that?” He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear, and I smile.

“Thank you. You’re not half bad either.” I smirk.

The hand that ran through my strands is now caressing my left cheek. He’s inviting and I swallow back nerves, knowing what’s going to happen. “I’m going to ask to kiss you. And I hope to God you say yes.” His voice is music. With the elegance of a classic melody, both gentle and assured.

All I can do is nod.

There's a definite sense of tenderness and compassion when our lips meet. I await the fireworks. The electricity. The Earth-shattering response, but nothing. The sparks aren’t there.

He retreats, placing his forehead against mine. “I hope to do that again.”

Will I let him? Possibly. Who determined the first kiss should be accompanied by butterflies? Perhaps the life-changing experience might occur on the second or third attempt.

“I may or may not. Your next date idea is going to be the deciding factor. Because…” I gesture toward the impressive cheese display on the charcuterie board. “You have to top this. Which could be difficult.”

He giggles. It's not a girly, childish giggle. A deep, manly guffaw. I said yes to another date. I mean, I had fun.

“We should go. Come on.” He stands, offering his hand and I accept, letting him pull me up. “Picnics could potentially become my new favorite pass time.”

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