Page 6 of Loose End

So I head to my favorite dive bar, a little Irish pub called Bangers. I like it for a few reasons: the bartender makes my favorite Black and Tan with the beer on tap, and there’s a hotel conveniently across the street. Plus, with a name like Bangers, all sorts of women show up there. Some because they think the name is funny—which it is—and others who are literally looking for just that.

It’s a little busier than usual but since there was a game tonight, it’s not surprising. People in Nashville come out in droves to cheer on anything football. Being a professional athlete in this town is as good as being a celebrity.

Well, maybe we’re not as well known as the country music stars around here, but it’s enough in situations like this where the crowds are parting for me as I shoulder my way through the throngs of drinkers to get to my favorite spot at the bar. It’s around the back corner so I can look out and watch the crowd without having to turn away from the bartender and the flowing drinks. The locals know to vacate that stool when I show up, and the occasional tourist gets booted before I get there.

Fuck.

I should’ve known tonight wasn’t going to be my night; not after that disaster of a game. I can see through the crowd that my favorite seat is very much occupied.

Double fuck.

I can’t see her face, but I can make out two delicate hands tapping red polished nails against the gleaming wood of the bar top. She’s got a few people standing in front of her so I can’t make out any specifics, but it looks like she’s surrounded by a white halo. That can’t be right. Doesn’t matter anyway though, she can take her angelic ass and move it somewhere else.

Whatever she has going on is not my problem.

The closer I get, the more flashes of white I see. There’s sparkly white gauzy material and lots of it.Maybe I hit my head during one of those tackles.There’s no fucking way I’m seeing what I think I’m seeing. No way. Not in my bar and certainly not in my chair.

The guys standing in front of her move as I get closer, revealing her in all her glory, and I nearly swallow my tongue. The mysterious woman occupying my spot is wearing a damn wedding dress. A horrible one. There are layers upon layers of fluff engulfing her. A beaded bodice shines like a beacon under the bar’s low light. She’s even got a crown on top of her intricately styled hair.Who the fuck is this girl?

Despite the dress and my surprise at seeing her in it, I can see that she’s a stunner. Petite and curvy with gorgeous dark brown eyes and glossy red lips I want trailing all over my body. I want that red lipstick in places it has no business being and then I want her to lick it off.

Her caramel hair is pinned in intricate braids and curls and my fingers flex, wanting nothing more than to pull out every last pin, shake it all loose, and have her wearing that crown while she rides my face.

Not something I plan on doing anywhere outside my head because in this getup, I know for certain she’s not for me.

She’s in a goddamn wedding dress. She might as well be wearing a giant red flag and it’s waving right at me.

This girl is trouble.

Something tells me she’s not looking for conversation anyway. She has a deep scowl etched across her beautiful face, on what should be the happiest day of her life, and a death grip around the Bangers’ signature raspberry and lime vodka soda.

Still, I can’t stop staring at her dress and that ridiculous crown.

It’s a little too early for Halloween and this doesn’t look like anything you could buy in even the fanciest costume stores. Plus, that stare of hers has my balls retreating inside my body for safety. No one is that angry in a Halloween costume.

I should be running in the opposite direction. I should take this as a sign to go home, put my feet up, and eat a pint of ice cream. Especially since the only free seat at the bar is right next to her.

But dammit. I need a drink.

It’s not like I’m going to be the one marrying her.Never again.

The second I park my ass in that chair, she turns to me, studying my face with her deep brown eyes. The scowl never leaves her face. “How do you know that seat wasn’t taken?”

“Well, I don’t.” I rest my elbows on the bar and steeple my hands in front of me. “Is there a groom around here somewhere I should be watching out for?”

She mumbles something unintelligible and resumes the staring contest with her cocktail. Again, I should leave her alone. I shouldn’t engage in conversation. I should mind my own fucking business. So tell me why my mouth opens and I just keep on talking?

“Am I to assume that’s a no?”

Her answer is another string of mumbles I can’t make out. I shouldn’t be amused, and I damn sure know I shouldn’t laugh, but I can’t help the satisfied rumble in my chest.

The mystery woman’s ruby red lips curl into the slightest hint of a smile before she realizes her slip and flattens them in a straight line.

“You can assume whatever you want.” She pauses and takes a small sip of her drink. “Just don’t talk to me.”

“What am I allowed to do to you?”

The words leave my mouth before I can stop myself and lay heavy between us.

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