Page 34 of Buried Beneath Sin

“Could I get... um,” I glance down the uneven resin bartop for a menu but don't see any. Rather than ask for one, I choose an item I think most bars would have. “Wings?”

“We're all out of wings.”

Oh, ok. I try again. “A pretzel?”

Judging by his quizzical brow raise, I take it pretzels aren’t a thing here.

“Um, do you have, ah....”

“The jalapeño poppers are good,” a voice says from behind me, causing me to startle. I look over my shoulder to watch as a good looking guy takes the seat beside me. “My friends and I just devoured three orders of them.”

He jerks his thumb in the direction behind us. I spare his companions, who are sitting in the far booth just out of reach of most of the light, half a glance before turning to look back at him. Had I thought he was simply good looking? Boy, was I wrong. It takes everything in me to suppress the hard shudder of awareness that threatens to run through me. This man is absolutely striking. My breath catches and my heart skips six, maybe even seven full beats as I try to wrap my head around the attractiveness of my new companion.

It doesn’t take much to note that he has some Asian heritage mixed into his genealogy, though how many generations back I can’t be certain. He has raven black hair, gelled back to keep from falling into his face. His cheekbones are high, elongating his face some, and his jawline has such sharp edges I’m sure I’d cut myself if I tried to follow it with my fingertips. The smile that’s splayed across his lips is subdued but friendly. Encouraging but not too eager. Sticking out against his pale complexion is a light dusting of freckles that sit across the bridge of his nose. He’s tall enough to tower over me even while sitting, and he has a lean physique. His eyes though… They’re incredible. The left is light brown while the right is sage green. I’ve never seen eyes like his, and the fact that they twinkle with friendliness? That’s even more unusual for me.

My knee-jerk reaction is to avert my gaze, and I do but mentally scold myself and look back. He’s not from Chasm. He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t think I’m a freak yet.

“Are they spicy?” I force myself to ask nervously.

“Decently so,” he says with a nod.

I glance at the bartender. “Jalapeño poppers, please.”

“Drink?” the burly man blurts out.

“A Coke please.”

Beside me the guy says, “I’ll have water, thanks.”

Without a word, the bartender turns and heads for the register.

“It’s funny, small-town people aren’t nearly as friendly as they claim to be,” the man beside me mutters. “I definitely don’t get the homey feel here.”

I chuckle dryly. “I’m not sure I’d feelhomeyin a place like this whether he was friendly or not.”

The amiability of his smile never wavers. It’s weird that it’s still hanging on. Usually, at this point in most conversations that I have, it’s fallen away. If past interactions have taught me anything, it’s that my awkwardness isn’t considered endearing.

But… my new friend isn’t gone yet.

As I glance down at his mouth, awareness creeps over me. Maybe tonight doesn’t have to be a bust? This guy is a good looking—okgreatlooking—stranger who might be willing to entertain me with some mind blowing sex. Maybe I can find that rush my devil had given me with him? Hope blossoms in my chest but it wars with nerves and uncertainty. Wanting that rush is one thing. Actively seeking it out and following through with it? I’m finding it harder to commit than I thought it would be.

“So, you stick out like a sore thumb. Where are you from? Chicago?” The man next me asks.

“No, I’m from Chasm, the next town over, southeast of here actually,” I murmur, still internally battling with myself. “What about you? Where are you from?”

He braces his forearm on the counter, not leaning close, but how he's situated in his seat—facing toward me—he's definitelynot trying to keep his distance either. When he grins, it's magnificent. The dim lighting of the bar and harsh shadows aren't able to tamp down this guy's handsome features.

“Oh, I'm from all over the place. I go wherever the wind takes me.”

“Huh, that must be nice,” I say, meaning it.

“It is, actually. It's freeing.” He shrugs. “Being able to see new places, meet new people, explore uncharted territory... It's a thrill.”

I chuckle, “I'm pretty sureeverywhereis charted now.”

His grin is so spectacular that I can’t stomach the heat crawling up my neck and into my cheeks.

“You'd think that, but no, there are still untouched places,” the stranger assures me. Judging by the brightness in his eyes and the widening of his grin, he's had a great time exploring said locations.

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