Page 49 of Love Undecided
Chapter 22
Kat
The day goes by excruciatingly slow, Bauer and I sit and review pictures and files for hours, taking notes, making comparisons, sharing speculations, and drinking copious amounts of coffee, with no results. I’m staring at the same things over and over again; getting no intuitive feelings, connecting no dots.
Not that we are the only ones working on it, mind you. Sherman has entire teams dedicated to both cases, and Bauer and I just sort of bounce back and forth between the two when needed. But it makes for a fairly unproductive day, giving me plenty of time to let my mind wander. And it seems to wander the most to Brad. It’s hard to believe I’ve only known him for a few years when it seems as though he’s been such an important part of my life for so long.
We met in a bar, I know, totally cliché. But let’s face it, once you leave college, how else do you meet someone outside of online dating?
* * *
I’d been at our favorite hangout,The Recovery Room, waiting to place an order for me, Lexie, and Remi.
“Hey Kat, what can I get you?” Nate, the bartender, asked. Yes, I was on a first name basis with the main guy at my favorite bar.
“We are all going for the pomegranate mojito tonight, Nate, you’ve concocted a good one there.”
“I aim to please where you ladies are concerned,” he said with a wink. I didn’t even try to wink back.
“Burning Up” by Madonna, came on the overhead. I started bouncing to the beat. I fucking loved this song.
“I’m burning up, burning up for your love,” I sang to Nate as he handed me all three drinks.
“I’ll put it on your tab,” he said in response. I balanced the three drinks between my two hands and stepped back from the bar.
“Umph!” I heard it before I felt it. Then there it was, a toe was impaled by my stiletto. I turned quickly to apologize, then watched in horror as bright red splashed all over the white in front of me. It was a chest, a broad chest encased in a white t-shirt that was quickly turning pink. A chest that was at eye level with me in my three-inch heels. It was sculpted. I reached out and tried to feel it, I couldn’t help myself.
The more the liquid soaked in to the shirt the more it molded to the muscular yumminess of the chest. It made my vagina butterflies go all a twitter. I touched it again and belatedly realized the glasses were still in my hand and all I was doing was rubbing liquid into the shirt.
"Ohmigod! I am so sorry!" I said. "Let me get a towel and I'll clean that off for you." I turned to set what was left of our drinks down and asked Nate the bartender for a towel.
"I'm usually a beer guy, but hey, if you insist, I’ll try a pink drink instead," the yummy chest said. That’s when I looked up and saw his face; chiseled, scruffy, tan, and showcasing the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen in real life. He was so good looking he made me nervous just being near him. His charm flew right over my head, my sole focus became not shriveling up and dying from embarrassment.
I used the bar towel to start dabbing at his shirt, pretty certain I was just making it worse.
"Ohmigod, I'm so sorry... I'm usually not this clumsy, well maybe I am, but it's not intentional... I really didn't mean to ruin your shirt. I promise to pay for it. Oh, and I'll buy you a drink. Shit! This is so embarrassing." I closed my eyes and just kind of stood there, shaking my head. My hands still resting on his chest while trying to figure out how to click my heels three times, whisper 'there's no place like home', and get myself out of this situation.
"I kind of like this new sticky pink effect. Plus, it'll dry, no big deal, it's just a t-shirt." He puffed that yummy chest out and deepened his voice just a bit. “Now, if it had been my vintage Madonna tee from the 'Like a Virgin' tour we'd have a real problem."
I just stood there like a mute idiot, really just pretending to dab at this point so I could keep feeling his chest. He lifted my chin with his fingers so I was looking at him.
"That was a joke. It was supposed to make you laugh," he said. “You know, ‘cause she’s playing on the overheads right now.” Then he winked at me and grinned big.
Winks get me every time, always throw me off my game and make me flustered. And I didn't think I could get more flustered than I already was.
"I really like Madonna," I stammered. “Old school Madonna though, not the new stuff that she's done. In fact, really nothing past the Erotica album. After that she just got weird. But her first five albums, I could listen to again and again and never get tired of her. Oh, I'm probably aging myself by saying albums, aren't I? I didn't really have albums but my parents did. I had CDs. But I donated them all a while back and now I just have an iPod."
"Okay... well, I guess we have that in common," he said. I didn't know if he meant his parents had albums, he’d donated CDs, that he had an iPod, or that he could listen to Madonna over and over again.
But since I still had my hands on his chest, I just said, “You know you have a really nice chest... nice... and... um, built," as I patted it with both hands.
"You wanna see it without the pomegranate mojito?” he asked with an exaggerated, obviously comical, leer. Then he waggled his eyebrows at me.
That’s all I needed to break the tension so I could resume being a normal person again. I threw my head back and laughed. He smiled at me.
I motioned to Nate the bartender for three new mojitos, “And whatever he wants," pointing to Brad.
"That's not necessary."
