Page 39 of Stolen Moments

“For you.” I hand her the rose sitting on the bar.

She gives it a sniff. “Thank you.”

I pull out the bar stool for her to take a seat, before sitting beside her and pulling my stool as close as I can to hers. Turning her body to the side, I capture her knees between mine. She bites her thumb—in that cute way I like, where her red lips wrap around her slender digit and her pink tongue pokes out—and watches me.

I can see the question lingering in her eyes. She’s been dying for me to tell her this story.

“Go ahead. Ask.”

“How do you know this is my favorite drink?” She holds up the wine glass filled with orange liquid to me before taking a drink.

Her pretty, pouty lips wrap around the straw, and I can picture them wrapped around me instead. I cover my impending groan by taking a sip of my drink.

She watches me, waiting for me to give her the answer. She wiggles in her seat impatiently, and I can’t help but make a meal of it.

“Well? I’m waiting, Mr. Bossy.” She puts her drink down and slowly crosses her legs, her dress riding higher and granting me a better view of her toned thighs. She smiles at me coyly. She knows what she’s doing.

I give her a smirk of my own before I give in. “You know, I’m about to lose all my cool points with this story.”

“I doubt that.” She leans forward and puts her palm on my chest, running it down my tie. “I must say, you clean up nice in this suit.”

I place my hands on her thighs, her skin burning mine. “Baby doll, it’s nothing compared to how fucking sexy you look in this dress.”

Goosebumps break across her skin as she squeezes her thighs together. She places her hands on mine and lifts my mitts off her thighs. “Thank you. But stop distracting me with all your sexiness and tell me how you know about the Aperol Spritz,” she smarts.

“You think I’m sexy?”

“That’s what you took from that sentence?”

“Hell yeah. What man wouldn’t when a gorgeous, intelligent woman tells him he’s sexy? I’d be an idiot.”

She purses her lips and lifts a brow at me not taking the bait.

“Fine.” I rub my scruffy jaw, deciding whether or not to tell her the whole story. But honestly wins out, as it will every time with me, so I tell her, “The first time I saw you was back in October. I was sitting at a bar like this.” I point to the mirrored wall behind the bar.

Her eyes follow mine and return to me, completely captivated by my story.

“I only caught a glimpse of you while I was talking to my nephew on the phone. You were staring at your phone and talking into your earbuds. You looked angry and frustrated. I thought to myself, ‘Damn that woman is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen.’”

“Mason.” She sighs, biting her lip.

My heart does that skip again. I can hear the appreciation and wonder in her voice, and I want to hear her say my name like that again. Only breathier while I’m deep inside her, claiming her as mine like she did on the phone.

“I looked down at my cell to finish my call, and when I looked up again, trying to find you, you were gone.”

“That’s so sweet. But what does that have to do with knowing my favorite drink?” She tilts her head to the side.

“As I searched the crowd for you, the pervy fucking bartender came over. He told me he’d seen you around and that you always order Aperol Spritz while you talk on the phone.”

“Does this bartender have salt-and-pepper hair and look like a beefed-up Zaddy?”

“What the fuck is a Zaddy?” I growl.

She bursts out laughing. “It’s the new version of DILF. It means a hot old guy who may or may not have children. Chris is determined to get with that guy. But he’s out of luck. Bartender Zaddy is strictly into women.”

“And how would you know that?” I grit out. Jealousy tinges my vision green. I swear if she says he’s laid a finger on her, I might break his fucking face.

“Oh, I’ve seen him staring at the big boobs of a fake blonde while she rested them on his bar top. Pretty sure she’d have let him take her home with pleasure. If you know what I mean.” She pumps her eyebrows at me.

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