Page 11 of Click of Fate

She laughs. I don’t want to say it’s a giggle; she doesn’t strike me as a giggler, but her laugh sounds like pure joy. “Okay, but if this is my first test, what’s next?”

And we are on—like Donkey Kong. This night is bound to be an ace. “You’ll find out.” I wink at her.

My phone buzzes in my back pocket, but I want to ignore it.

“Should we order? I’m going to need sustenance soon,” she says, looking down the bar. I follow her eyes and find Alex standing in the corner near the soda machine with his phone in his hands, smirking while texting. My phone buzzes again as he slides his phone back into his pocket.

I hold in a groan, knowing damn well he’s texting me. Then there’s a final buzz, and he’s heading our way. I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of checking my phone. To his credit, Alex doesn't say anything, just smirks as he takes our order.

Within several minutes, we’ve got a flight of IPA to match the tray of meatballs. Each is labeled so we pair them together correctly.

The conversation is easy, and chemistry is flowing between us. By the time we’re done, we’ve each ordered our favorite IPA in a full glass. We sit together, our backs against the bar as we watch the various traditional bar games.

I watch her as she leans against the bar. Her posture is finally loosening, and the sharpness in her expression has softened just enough. There’s still that guarded edge, like she’s ready to disappear before anyone gets too close. I can tell she isn’t thinking about that right now, though. Right now, she’s just here.

Her lips curve, just slightly, as she watches some poor guy botch a dart throw so badly that even his own friends wince. Her fingers drum lazily against the side of her glass that she rests on her jean covered knee, like she’s absorbing the energy of the place without realizing it.

There’s something about watching someone who doesn’t let their guard down easily start to enjoy themselves. Like catching the first flicker of a sunrise before it fully breaks over the horizon.

I take another sip of my own beer, eyes still on her, and smirk. "So… did The Trading Post pass your test, or am I gonna have to find a new Thursday night spot?"

She nods. “The food is solid. The beer’s good. The company’s”—she pretends to contemplate her answer—“decent.”

The way she’s looking at me, all sexy and sassy like, I want to steal that mouth and kiss her stupid. “Decent? That’s it?” I ask, appalled.

Her grin is challenging. “I’m still deciding.” Her shoulder lifts in a shrug.

Leaning in closer, I ask, “ And what exactly would push me from ‘decent’ to whatever category earns me another drink with you?”

Tilting her head, she says, “That depends.” She doesn’t lean away from me.

“On?”

Her eyes dart down to my mouth, and it takes everything in me to stay focused. “How persuasive you are.”

Grinning, I know I’ve won this little game. If I want to take her home, she’s cleared a path for me. While I didn’t plan on this tonight, I could use a night to blow off some steam. I’ve had my share of one-night stands. They have a time and place, and if one night is all I can get with this challenging and intriguing woman, I’ll take it.

“I could try to persuade you over another drink.” I pause and that and let that sit for a moment. “Or we could skip the pretense.”

Her lips part slightly. She’s not surprised by my brazen suggestion. She also doesn’t seem to be hesitating, just waiting for me to decide.

I close the gap between us, my lips grazing her ear. “Come home with me Stella.”

Leaning back, I see that she’s pulled that lip between her teeth again. She holds my gaze, stunning me, stretching out this moment of truth. I can tell the minute she decides when she breaks our eye contact, grabs her small purse, and stands.

I watch her as I wait. I refuse to think I misjudged her earlier flirting.

She pulls out several bills and tosses them down on the bar top as a slow smile crosses her face. “What are you still sitting there for?” she asks.

I shoot off the stool quickly but control myself as I realize it wobbles behind me. I tap the bar top and tell the bar tender, who just arrived, to put her bill on my tab. The bartender knows who I am and nods as I scoop up the twenty and hand them back to Stella.

“So chivalrous,” she says with an eye roll.

I lead her outside with my hand at the small of her back. She’s a bit prickly, so I’m happy she doesn’t shrug me off.

Once outside, I drop my hand and stretch my arms behind my head as Stella pulls out her phone and opens the Uber app.

“My place is just a few blocks. Ten minute walk at most.”

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