Page 1 of Vinter
The bartender leaned against the polished, scarred wood of the bar. “Another one?”
Elise looked at the bottom of her glass and debated what the correct answer should be. Would she rather drive home or call a cab?
“Yes, let the lady have another.”
She turned her head at the man who had come to straddle the barstool next to hers. Short auburn hair and ice blue eyes. Arms covered in bright, colorful tattoos and fingernails painted black. Hot didn't cover it. But it was the smile combined with a sex appeal that reached out and enveloped her from head to toe. She wanted him. Right here, right now.
She cleared her throat, found her voice, pleased at its steadiness. “I appreciate it, but no. It’s time for me to call it a night.” In his bed would be a nice place to do that, but she’d called a halt to all men for a while. Even gorgeous ones with hard cocks pressed against worn denim, and solid muscles framing lean perfection beneath faded black.
God, she needed to go home. He was too tempting and her bruised ego was too vulnerable.
“Why?”
Yes, why indeed. “It’s ... time. Been a long day.”
He reached out and stroked the back of the hand she had wrapped around the empty glass. “Going home alone?”
Would you like to come home with me? “Yes, alone.”
“Hmm. That doesn’t sound like fun at all. Tell you what. Why don’t you let me buy you another drink and you can fill me in on why it’s been such a long day. I’m a pretty good listener.”
He had a delicious, well-defined mouth and Elise wanted to let her lips fall down on his. His deep voice rolled over her like a soft, warm blanket. “The guy I’d been seeing ended things today. I got the text at lunch.”
“Text? You serious? Dumbass man.”
She tried not to smile, but couldn’t help it. It was only a small one and when he answered her with one of his own, she swore her panties melted.
No. I was the dumbass in this one. I knew better and now, well, hindsight is twenty-twenty.” She shrugged. The bartender chose that moment to set another rum and Coke in front of her. The smell of the alcohol made her feel lightheaded. Whoa. She didn’t need to drink it. It was that strong. Instead of calling a cab, she would be sleeping on the floor beneath the stool she sat on.
“What did you know better about?”
“Trust me, you don’t want to know.” She took a small sip of her new drink. The rum burned going down and it felt good. Tattoo Man would feel better, but …
“I do.”
"Smooth. Too smooth. And married.”
“Oh.” Tattoo Man shook his head. “Yeah, that’s never good. Are you?”
“Am I what? Good? Yes.”
He grinned at her and heat flooded her cheeks. She had no idea where that teasing, suggestive comment had come from, but she liked it, liked that she made him grin. He was devastating to look at.
“Mmmm. I’ll give you a chance to prove it later. Are you married?”
“No, I’m not.”
“Then why waste your time on a man who is?”
She never would have if she’d known. Where were all the damn warning signs? “I didn’t know. See, that’s me being the dumbass. He gave all his numbers, his address. There were never any restrictions on communication or seeing one another.” She could call him whenever, though she always let him call her. She’d never been one who could chase a man, even one she was dating. She could see him every night, every day. He’d introduced her to people he worked with, friends he hung out with.
She been wracking her brain all afternoon trying to figure it out. There had to have been something that hinted at there being a Mrs. But Elise couldn't find it.
“When did you find out?”
“In his message. He said he was going back to his wife.” And there it was. All over again. The shock, the humiliation. There hadn’t even been a tan line on his ring finger. She’d looked.
It seemed obvious that going back meant he and his wife were separated, but still …
