Page 5 of Thirst Trap
3
Whitley
“Let’s leave, this place sucks!”
Of course, the displeasure is coming from Emmilene. I want to tell her that this bar was her idea, but I don’t. I didn’t wake up today choosing violence.
“I like it,” Ella Mae says, taking a sip of her drink. “Plus, I lovvvvvvve this bushwacker!”
I can’t help but laugh at a drunk Ella Mae as Emmilene lets out a huff and plops down on a barstool. Yes, I know it’s not very nice that I’m secretly loving the fact that the wicked sister is having a miserable time. My southern passive-aggressive mean streak is reveling in this.
“What’s with her?” Betsy asks, coming back from the dance floor to stand next to me. “Wait… let me guess. She just realized that the stick is so far up her ass she’ll never be able to get it out?”
I can’t help but laugh. “I don’t think so yet. I’m not going to be the one to tell her.”
“Neither am I. That would require conversation. And I’d rather go celibate then engage in conversation with the evil sister.”
I lift my glass to hers. “I’ll drink to that.”
Betsy leans into the bar to order a drink, and I take the minute to people watch. I love people watching, especially in a new city. Birmingham might be a big city for Alabama, but I feel like I’ve been seeing the same people everywhere I go. Or maybe it’s because people seem to know me wherever I go.
And that can get stifling.
I want to meet someone new. Someone like I’ve never met before—someone who doesn’t want me to get them an autograph.
“Pardon me, I couldn’t help but notice that one of you lovely ladies is getting married soon?”
Some women have a thing for arms. Some go for abs or a smile. Me? Give me a man with a deep voice that I just know would say filthy things to me behind closed doors, and I am a pile of mush.
This man, who I’ve not yet made eye contact with? This voice coming from behind me? I don’t even need to look at him to know that he would leave me satisfied in all the right ways. Add in his country twang, and I’m already melting.
“That’s me!” Ella Mae squeals, raising her hand like she’s in grade school.
The mystery man laughs, and shit, his laugh is just as deep and sexy as his voice.
I want to turn around and get a look at him. But I’m afraid if I do, it will ruin the mental picture I have quickly conjured. In my mind, he’s a bit rugged. He’s wearing those country-boy jeans that fit in all the right places and leave nothing to the imagination. And he’s wearing a cowboy hat. A real one. Not one you can buy at the souvenir shop at the airport.
And plaid. He’s definitely wearing a plaid shirt. I bet his sleeves are rolled up, showing off his forearms.
Okay, so maybe I have a thing for arms, too.
“Well then, darlin’, what kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t offer to buy you and your friends a drink?”
“I’ll take a drink!” Emmilene yells from the other side of Ella Mae. I quickly look over at her and realize that she’s staring at this man like he’s dinner, and she hasn’t eaten in days.
That’s all the cue I need to turn around and finally put a face to the image I’ve concocted in my head.
Sweet baby Jesus.
He’s… I don’t even have words. And I’m never speechless.
Though I have a feeling if this man were to get me naked, he’d be leaving me speechless for a whole different reason.
He’s what a man should look like. In every definition of that phrase.
I was mostly right about the choice of clothes. I hit the nail on the head with the plaid and jeans. Instead of the cowboy hat, he has opted for a backward trucker cap. Usually, I’m not a fan of that look. But on this guy? I’m a fan.
A big, big fan.
