Page 2 of Verses

For some reason, I loved that. If any of my old friends from high school had stuck around Charlotte, I might have tried to set them up with him. Because I trusted him wholeheartedly. He seemed steady, supportive, and kind.

Warm. Strong. Protective.

All the things a girl would want in a man.

But I wasn’t looking.

“No…but itwillbe in a minute.”

“You need a drink?”

“Hell, yes,” I said, sliding onto the barstool right in front of the man. Tonight, he was wearing a black Harley t-shirt he’d worn many a time, reinforcing my belief—based on a rumor I’d heard eons ago—that he used to belong to the outlaw motorcycle club that still echoed in the streets of Charlotte, although there were no actual signs of their existence.

Well…his t-shirt and the various bad ass tattoos all over his arms spoke volumes. Jesus. The man was bathed in ink, something I found incredibly hot. I had yet to talk Kyle into getting more than the couple he already had.

“Want a shot or something more substantial?”

“Let’s start with a shot.”

If I wanted to have Wolf talking to me a while with his smooth-as-silk deep voice, I’d have to get something else later. For now, though, I needed a quick jolt.

“What’ll it be?” he asked, turning to the shelves behind him. Usually whatever I drank came from the common alcohol underneath the counter—and I honestly didn’t care what I had, just so long as it would take the edge off.

I said, “Whiskey,” even as my eyes scoured the highest shelf in front of the mirror where dozens of bottles posed for all to see.

“I think you need a taste of this limited-edition bourbon.” Before I could even protest, he was sliding a large bottle off the very top shelf.

“No way. I can’t afford that shit.”

“It’s on me, bird.”

“No—”

“Yes,” he said, placing the bottle on the counter. Then, fetching two shot glasses from below, he set them on the bar before returning his emerald-green eyes to me. “And I’ll drink with you.”

Studying him briefly, I tried to guess his actual age, something I did frequently. Was he in his early forties? Late thirties? Older? Not that I’d be a good gauge of that. I’d just turned twenty-four, so everyone not my age or younger often looked way older.

And why was I wondering anyway? Kyle was my boyfriend and always would be. Besides…if I judged based on my mom’s rule of thumb for the perfect mate, Wolf hadn’t ever angered me. Not once. Kyle had that shit in the bag—meaning he was more likely meant for me.

Forever.

As Wolf poured the amber liquid, its scent wafted up to my nostrils, making my mouth water. After capping the bottle, heslid one of the shot glasses my way. “One for the most beautiful woman in the room and one for me.”

Wow. Did he?No. He was just being nice. He couldn’t really be thinking of me in any way other than as a friend. A much younger friend. And he was probably just trying to make me feel better.

But before I could say something sarcastic to deflect the compliment, he said, “One, two, three—down the hatch.” Then he lifted the small glass to his lips and downed it.

Knowing how I found hard liquor difficult to swallow, maybe something Wolf remembered, I followed suit, pouring the shot in my mouth and gulping it before I could change my mind. In seconds, I felt the liquor burning as it trickled down every inch of my esophagus. Closing my eyes, I followed it with my mind as it sunk lower in my chest, finally smoothing out.

But I realized this particular drink wasn’t making me shake my head, immediately wishing I had a glass of Sprite to chase it with. Maybe that had something to do with the quality.

The liquor almost felt soothing. Rich. Far better than the usual rocket fuel I and my band members drank. “I have to give you credit, Wolf. You picked a good one.”

“Let’s just say you were the inspiration.”

His words took my breath away far more than the bourbon. But what the hell was wrong with me? Why was I suddenly feeling more for this guy than usual? He was a friend, nothing more.

But I was definitely thinking of him in a more-than-friends way.

---