Page 1 of One Weekend in Boston

ONE

Shannon

I took a long pull from my Yuengling Lager bottle before setting it back down on the bar top. My life was a mess. I was doing my best to keep a low profile and this hotel was just the first of many that I would be staying in over the next few weeks until I got my shit together.

I was trying not to look like the tourist I was, but I wasn't helping my cause when I chose the beer that represented my home state. What can I say? I was a Yuengling girl born and raised. Sam Adams just didn't do it for me. It didn't matter how many flavors they came up with, I couldn't find one that hit the same way my first love did.

Did that make me a beer snob?

Probably, but a girl had to have her vices. Mine wasn't fancy margaritas or some prim and proper martinis. Nope, I much preferred beer. Maybe the occasional bourbon or whiskey but that was as far as my taste buds went in the liquor department.

My father used to joke that he was raising a son, not a daughter, the way I could toss them back and hold my ownagainst the boys in my small hometown. He wasn't wrong. That’s what happens when a girl doesn’t have a mother or any other siblings to look up to.

All I had growing up was my father and his friends. Oh, and the guys from the shop. Growing up inside a mechanic shop might've had something to do with it as well.

I tipped my almost empty bottle of beer to the bartender and silently asked for another. I could see the judgment in his eyes, but he didn't say anything as he slid a new one my way.

"Pretty sure that's sacrilege in this town," said a voice behind me.

I tried to hide my annoyance at being interrupted.

Interrupted from what?

My own thoughts. It sure as hell wasn't the lousy TV. It was a Friday night in October, so of course there wasn't a football game on, and everything else paled in comparison.

I wasn't only a beer snob, I was a sports snob as well. It was fall, there was only one sport that was important: football, and any day that didn't have a game being played was a lousy day in my opinion.

I sounded like a real winner in the girl department, didn't I?

"Not interested," I finally responded after taking another swig of my beer.

When I look back on this night in the future, this was probably when I should've kept my eyes glued on the crappy TV. But instead, I chose to give the unnamed man my attention, even if for just the briefest of seconds. That was all it took.

One look.

Hello, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome with the most radiant green eyes I had ever seen.

I mean seriously, they practically glowed in the dimly lit bar. I wasn't sure if I could look away from them even if I wanted to. Pair that with dark wavy locks, longer on the top but tightenough on the sides that I could scrape my fingers through it. The five o’clock shadow I was sure would feel good along my most sensitive parts and the slightly crooked nose that screamed he was a man not afraid to fight for those he cared about. The whole package put together was my kryptonite, but it was his voice that put him over the top. It was the perfect baritone and I could sit here and listen to it all night long.

"Sorry, I wasn't trying to hit on you. That's what my brother tells me every time I visit him and don't order a Sam Adams."

Well, there went that thought. It was a shame. I might not have had time for it, but his words stung. No girl liked to think they were that unattractive.

"I gathered as much when the bartender sneered at me. The sacrilege part, not the hitting-on-me part," I quickly clarified.

"I'm not saying I wouldn't hit on you. I mean, you're gorgeous and completely my type, but that wasn't why I spoke up. It's more of an automatic response any time I see someone drinking anything other than Boston's own," the handsome man babbled. "And now I'm rambling. Don't mind me." He waved his hands as if he could physically brush away the words.

It was good to know he didn't find me repulsing. If this was any other time in my life, I wouldn't mind a roll in the sheets with a body like that. I bet he knew how to give a girl arealorgasm, rather than us having to fake one all the time just to appease a poor man's ego.

"The name's Shannon," I told him before I could think better of it.

"Jack."

We clinked our bottles together and each took a sip. The silence that fell between us wasn't as awkward as I expected, but I still felt the need to fill it.

"So, visiting your brother, right? I believe that's what you said as you were trying to extract the foot from your mouth."

Jack laughed, and damn, it was a good one. So hearty it made my stomach flip-flop. It was the kind of sound I wanted to hear close to my ear so I could feel it throughout my entire body.

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