Page 28 of Sweet Escape

I sidle up to the bar and take a seat, setting my clutch on the counter and returning the smile of the graying bartender.

“Would you like to see the beer and wine list? Or are you looking for something a little harder?”

I wince. “No liquor tonight. I’ll take whatever’s on tap that you recommend. Something local, maybe?”

He gives me a nod. “I got just the thing.”

I turn on the swiveling stool to survey the room again, taking in the aging decor on the walls and the old glass lighting over the booths.

When I spot a familiar face, something unfamiliar flutters around in my stomach. I hope both that he looks my way and that he doesn’t.

He’s standing around the pool table, chatting with a few other guys, his expression easy and his posture relaxed.

When his coffee-colored eyes finally connect with mine, I see something I’m not expecting: a smile. It’s small, but I see it all the same. It disappears almost immediately, though, masked with a look that reveals he’s as uncertain about seeing me as I am about seeing him.

Memphis says something to one of the guys, then hangs his pool stick up on a rack before he crosses the room in my direction.

I should turn around and face the sweet old bartender, but I don’t. Instead, I watch Memphis as he approaches, not even trying to hide the way my eyes scan him up and down.

He’s wearing a long sleeve thermal and dark jeans that outline his physique. My memory jumps back to Memphis standing shirtless in the kitchen that first night, his broad shoulders and toned arms and chest on display. But he’s as delicious fully clothed.

How inconsiderate.

“Enjoying the view?”

My eyes flick up to connect with his, then narrow as he comes to a stop before me.

“Hardly. Just trying to figure out why you won’t leave me alone.”

I spin in my chair so I’m facing the bar again, and Memphis leans against it to my left, dipping his body toward mine.

“I won’t leaveyoualone. I live here. These aremystomping grounds. I seem to recall you showing up at my place of workandmy home on several occasions ...”

“Twice,” I interrupt, holding up two fingers before giving the bartender a grateful smile as he sets the pale beer in front of me. “And I was invited.”

“So if anyone is stalking anyone, it’s the other way around,” he continues as if I’ve said nothing.

“That’s the narrative you keep putting out there, but from my point of view, I’m simplyexistingand you’re crawling into my physical space like you can’t get enough of me,” I tease, bringing the beer to my lips and eyeing him over the rim. “The restaurant, the kitchen, the restaurant again, now here.”

Memphis inches toward me, his face so close to mine as I take a sip. “You couldn’t be more wrong.”

“So that night in the kitchen was, what? You showing me your disinterest?” I roll my eyes. “Consider me convinced.”

“I won’t pretend that I wasn’t interested. You’re beautiful, there’s no question, and any man would be stupid not to at least consider it.”

I can’t deny loving the compliment, but I immediately brush it to the side because I know there’s abutcoming just behind it.

“But I don’t have time for what a girl like you would be looking for.”

One eyebrow lifts. “Oh? And what isa girl like melooking for exactly? Please, inform the class.”

“A beck-and-call boy,” he says, smirking. “You look like a woman who is used to people catering to your every whim, men who follow you around like puppies. And I promise you, I am not that guy.”

I lick my lips, chuckling under my breath.

“What’s so funny?”

“Well, if anyone here is wrong tonight, Memphis, it’s you. That’s what’s so funny.”

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