Page 13 of If It Can't Be Us

“LEO!” the bartender shouts over to someone, startling me. A man approaches and takes his hand, greeting him with a British accent. I glance to my right and freeze; my heart starts to pound.Shit.I’m ninety-nine percent sure it’s my neighbor. My oh-so-hot, good-looking neighbor, who apparently has a British accent that is sexy as hell! I listen to the two of them speak. MyGod, his voice is incredible. I didn’t think he could get any hotter, but this,thismakes him hotter. Seriously, I could listen to his voice all day. I’d let him read me bedtime stories. My mind races, trying to figure out how to navigate this encounter without losing my cool.

He settles into his seat and rolls up his shirt sleeves, revealing a sleeve of tattoos on one arm and a Rolex watch on the wrist closest to me. I try to be subtle as I take in his masculine features. His dark brown hair isn’t long, but it’s not short either; it’s just the right length to run one’s fingers through, with a soft natural wave that gives it a polished, messy look. It reminds me of a shorter version of Bradley Cooper’s hair inThe Hangover. His short, well-kept beard, more like a long scruff, frames his face perfectly, and his white shirt looks crisp next to his tanned skin. Suddenly aware of my presence, he glances over, then turns to look at me.

He furrows his brows. “You’re my new neighbor?”

It’s a question.

I give him a confused look. “I’m not sure,” I say, deciding to diffuse the awkwardness with humor. The only way out is through, right? “I’m having a hard time placing you with your clothes on,” I add nonchalantly, sipping my wine.

He chuckles, and two deep dimples peek through his beard, making me drool all the more. “Do you need me to remove my shirt? I believe you stared long enough to be able to recall every detail.”

Jackass… but also, drool.

“Ha!” I scoff. “If I remember correctly, you were staring first,” I challenge playfully.

He looks at me, holding my gaze, and nods, amused. “Well played.” He holds out his hand. “Leo Weston.”

I take his hand and shake it firmly, displaying confidence that I’m trying ever so hard to achieve.

“Vivian Walker.”

“Well, Vivian Walker, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Likewise,” I say, grinning at him. “So…” I casually turn toward him and slightly lean against the bar. “Who do you have to bang to get reserved seating and a drink awaiting your arrival?”

“I know the chef.” He sips his drink, then looks at me with curiosity. “Are people still saying ‘bang’?” He smothers a laugh.

The dimples again. God, I love the dimples.

“Oh, I do.” Unsure if he realizes we’re quoting one of my all-time favorite movies,Crazy, Stupid, Love, I can’t help but laugh.

He nods toward the empty seat next to me. “Are you waiting for someone?”

“Nope… It’s just me tonight,” I say, smiling as I lean back in my chair, feeling oddly confident and flirtatious. “Sometimes, a girl just needs to take herself out.”

He swallows as his eyes meet mine. “Lucky for me,” he says, holding my gaze as the corners of his mouth lift into a playful smirk.

Beautiful.

This man is fucking beautiful.

“Guess we’ll see how lucky you get after a few more drinks,” I respond with a wink, taking another sip of my wine.

My heart races as I realize how bold that sounded. Did I really just say that? Well, no turning back now. I just have to own it.

Noah interrupts to take our orders.

“I’ll have the short rib,” I say, handing him my menu.

“I’ll take the ribeye, medium rare… and another one of these.” He picks up his glass and swirls it, the ice cubes clinking. Noah nods and walks away.

“So.” I drum my fingers on the countertop. “You’re British,” I say matter-of-factly.

“Am I?” he says skeptically, placing his hand on his chest. “Well done, Walker, that is quite the observation. I’m impressed.” Laughing, he slowly claps his hands together.

“Shut up.” Embarrassed, I playfully nudge him with my elbow. I pause for a moment, noticing the way he called me by my last name. “Okay then, Leo, tell me something about yourself.”

There is an unnaturally long pause before he says, “Care to make it interesting?”

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