Page 8 of Mountain Daddy
I glance back over to the woman.
Our eyes connect for a split second before she drops her gaze.
Was she looking at me?
I watch her roll her lips together as she looks over the open tables again, and I understand her dilemma. Either she sits at a table alone, or she sits between me and the group at the bar.
Hiding my hand behind my empty glass, I cross my fingers.
Pretty fucking please sit by me.
Chapter 3
Kendra
I twistthe toe of my sandal on the scarred vinyl floor as I feel my cheeks heat.
He caught me looking.
The urge to turn on my heel and head back to my room is tempting.
Very tempting.
But it’s too early to go to sleep. And the thought of sitting in my motel room, sober, thinking about tomorrow, keeps me where I am.
I want to get drunk.
And if getting drunk also includes getting laid by some hot-as-fuck lumberjack… that would also be acceptable.
Forcing my head up, I lift one foot, then the next, determined to sit at the bar.
Four empty stools stand between the pair of couples closest to me and the hot older man at the far end. As I approach the empty seats, I have a decision to make—put one seat between me and hottie, or put one seat between me and the couples.
I keep my gaze on the bar, not looking up to see if the guy is watching me.
Playing it super cool, I stop between the four empty stools.
I could take the one to my right. Putting me closer to the couples.
Or…
I brace one hand on the bar, one on the wooden seat—closer to the hot man—and I boost myself up.
My feet dangle as I lean forward, resting my elbows on the bar.
Immediately, I realize this isn’t a very flattering position. But just as quickly, I push the self-deprecating thoughts away.
Hot guy or no hot guy, I’m not spending the night sitting with good posture, sucking my stomach in.
Fuck that.
I lower my chin into my palm and look over the liquors displayed behind the bar.
A woman stops before me. Her dark brunette hair is twisted up and held in place with a clip at the back of her head, casual to match her jeans, T-shirt, and black apron.
Her mouth pulls into a smile. “What can I get you, hon?”
Her energy has me smiling back as my eyes snag on a short, square, clear bottle. “How about a tequila shot?”
