Page 2 of Beautiful Mess

Heat zips down my spine, settling low in my belly. I would know that deep timbre anywhere. Turning my head, my breath catches in my throat as my eyes land on a dark, familiar set of chocolatey eyes. A grin that looks part amusement, part surprise curls his full lips as he rests an elbow on the bar counter, standing exactly where the creepy man was just minutes ago. Except he’s not creepy.

No, he’s rugged and sexy and all man.

Thick, rich espresso-brown hair styled in a way that looks effortlessly messy, a full, cropped beard of the same shade, and golden-tan skin that can only come from spending hours in the sun every day. You can’t get that perfect shade from a tanning bed. No way.

“Mr. Levine.” I practically purr his name, shifting on the bar stool until my body is fully facing him. Rolling my shoulders back to press my chest closer to him, I smile up at him from beneath my lashes. “Thisisquite the surprise, isn’t it?”

I giggle, then feel my cheeks heat.Real cool, Grace.

Looking behind the bar, he gets the attention of the bartender before gesturing for the bill. “How many times have I told you to call me Conway,” he drawls, bringing his gaze back on me, and my whole body lights up. Conway pulls out his wallet, handing the cute man behind the bar his credit card, and that’s when it hits me that he’s paying for my drinks.

Is this the universe’s doing? Is this my chance for revenge on my cheating, loser ex-boyfriend?

It would sure seem that way because not only is Conway the hot older neighbor I’ve been crushing on since I was, like, fifteen…but he’s also that same cheating, loser ex-boyfriend’s dad. And I know I look hot tonight. Done up to the nines in a little black lace dress I picked up from the boutique in town, with my hair cascading down my back in loose curls, and my make-up applied to perfection.

This is it.

This is finally my time to act on the crush I’ve had for years, but also my chance to get back at Cole. What’s the saying? The best way to get over someone is by gettingundersomebody else? And what better way to get over a lying, cheating douchebag than by fucking his much hotter dad?

It’s perfect.

After Conway signs the receipt, he pockets his wallet before meeting my gaze. The weight of his stare sends an inferno through my veins. My nipples to harden. He’s totally checking me out, and it’s far more intoxicating than the vodka swimming through my system. Although, that’s definitely helping too.

“I think the most surprising thing about finding you here, Grace,” he starts, keeping his voice low, “is that I know for a fact you’re not old enough to be in here, yet based on the tab, you’ve already had several drinks tonight.”

Conway has this intimidating way of looking at you. Like he knows every secret you’re trying to hide. Probably how he caught his son sneaking out so many times. It’s usually unnerving, but tonight, it’s thrilling.

I flash him what I hope is my flirtiest grin. “A pretty girl always has her ways,Conway.” Calling him by his first name has no business being as hot as it is. It’s a head rush all on its own.

He huffs out a breath before tipping his head toward the exit. “Come on, Grace. Let’s get you home.”

Yes, it’s happening! He was checking me out, he paid for my drinks, and now he wants to take me home!

Definitely getting over Cole by getting under his dad tonight. This has got to be the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me. My body thrums at the salacious image that races through my mind; Conway and I alone in his bedroom as he gently—or maybe not-so-gently—removes the tight lace dress from my body. I bet a man like Conway knows how toworshipa woman.

He’d no doubt find the clit on the first try. No aggressively rubbing my left lip until it’s raw, like he’s trying to start a damn campfire. No, a man like him isskilled. He’s had years of practice. Experience. And his hands…hard working, weathered, and calloused.

As gracefully as I can manage, I slide off the bar stool and strut toward the door across the room. Conway’s hand finds the small of my back, the barely-there brush of his fingers sending a shiver down my spine.

He’s touching me.

God, coming here tonight was such a good idea.

Stepping out into the warm night air, a realization dawns on me. “Oh, I drove myself here tonight,” I murmur, tilting my head to look up at Conway. Doing so nearly causes me to lose my balance. Jesus, now that I’m standing up and moving, the alcohol is really hitting me. Why am I such a lightweight?

He’s significantly taller than I am, and it’s such a fucking turn-on. Not like his son, who is a ratheraverageheight, if I do say so myself.

“I’m driving you home,” he says sternly, leaving no room for discussion. It’s authoritative. My core clenches, needy to be filled by whatever he’s packing in those tight Wranglers. “You can pick your car up in the morning.”

“Yes, sir.” I snort as he leads me to his impressive truck. It’s different—and newer—than the one he had the last time I was back in town. He’s lived across the street from my childhood home since I was about ten.

Conway opens the passenger side door for me, keeping his hand on my lower back as I hoist myself up, nearly falling on my ass. Apparently copious amounts of vodka and trucks don’t mix well. Who knew? It’s not even lifted or anything; I’m justthatdrunk, apparently. The whole cab smells of him, and unlike the first man who approached me, it’s not nauseating. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. It’s smoky and rich. It makes my head swim as he climbs behind the wheel and starts the engine.

He does that thing hot men do…the hand on the back of the passenger seat while he reverses out of the parking spot. Why is that so hot?

“Can I put on some music?” I ask, practically bouncing in my seat.

Conway eyes me and arches an eyebrow. “After you put your seatbelt on.”

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