Page 12 of Twisted Collide

Once it does, I take a tentative sip. Cautious to confirm it’s chilled to my liking. It’s perfect, which I should’ve expected from a place like this.

From the corner of my eye, something snags my interest. I turn my head just enough to see a man who commands the room’s attention.

He doesn’t look like the rest of the crowd. With disheveled brown hair, he has a freshly fucked look. The type of look that’s my own kryptonite. I’ll never know why I find it so attractive in a man, but lord, do I like it.

His face is chiseled to perfection with a five-o’clock shadow dusting it. He’s stunning in a male model sort of way, yet still rugged at the same time.

He doesn’t seem to notice anyone as he makes his way to the bar. Once he’s beside me, our gazes lock, and I swear the breath is knocked out of my body by the striking color of his blue eyes. They shimmer with a cold depth that reminds me of glacial ice.

Holy hell.

This man is perfection.

I can’t even take my eyes off him.

There’s no question I need to. It’s becoming obvious that I’m gawking, but he doesn’t seem affected at all by my pathetic display.Nope, instead of acknowledging me, he signals to the bartender to order a drink.

“Whiskey, neat.” His gravelly voice makes chills run up my spine.

Now closer, I clock his age as older than me. Much older.

He’s got to be in his early thirties, and at barely twenty-two years old, I must look like a baby deer trying to walk to him.

It doesn’t matter because I’ve already decided this man will be my distraction for the night.

I tip the shot back and take it all in one smooth gulp, savoring the burn.

Here goes nothing.

5

JOSIE

“Come here often?”I ask as the gorgeous man slides onto the stool next to mine.

The line is absolutely ridiculous, probably one of the worst pickup lines ever, but in a situation like this, ridiculous is necessary.

As I said, I need a distraction, and he’s perfect.

“What?” His voice is smooth like honey, a sound that makes your mouth water with the promise of how good it will taste.

“I said, come here often?” I rest my chin on my fist, tilting my head to the side. He blinks at me, mouth opening and shutting. “It’s a pickup line if you must know,” I retort, not even trying to hide my sarcasm.

His chuckle is a deep, rich sound that makes my knees feel weak. “Now that’s one way to do it.”

I shrug, taking a sip from my drink. “I figure I can cut to the chase. That way, we both know what I’m angling for.”

Who am I? I’ve never been quite this forward. But when in Rome or, in this case . . . my version of hell.

“Are you even old enough to drink?”

I’m not sure how I feel about that comment. It sounds like a brush-off if I’ve ever heard one.

“Well, seeing as I was already carded, it would appear so.” I lift my glass to get my point across.

He studies me closely, but I can’t read him. It’s unnerving.

“Are you always this blunt?” he finally responds.

---