Page 15 of Saint
She hadn’t asked for my help, but I would if she needed it.
“It’s nothing you need to worry about. I can manage Thomas.” She took a sip of her martini. “Would you like something to drink?” she asked, waving the bartender over and changing the subject.
I probably shouldn’t since I already had four beers, but I needed to calm down. I could always get one of the prospects to come get me if I couldn’t drive.
The bartender made her way to us with a predatory glint in her eyes. Long auburn hair, big tits, a small waist, and decently wide hips, she would be someone I’d take home in a heartbeat. But that was before I met Oya. None of that appealed to me now. Not saying the woman wasn’t nice to look at, she just wasn’t the woman who had my attention.
“What can I get you, sweetheart?” she asked me, planting her forearms on the bar top, giving me the perfect view of her ample cleavage.
I smirked, wrapping my arms around Oya’s shoulder ignoring her attempt to flirt. “What would you like, baby?” She laid her head against me playing along, and the bartender quickly rose from the bar top. “Another Vodka Martini neat, sweetheart?”
I kissed her on the head, then focused back on the bartender. The lust still danced in her eyes but this time it was mixed with envy. “Vodka Martini neat for my woman, and a pint of Guinness for me.”
She nodded and quickly walked away. Oya lifted her head, then gazed at me. We both started laughing uncontrollably. We calmed down when the bartender sat both our drinks in front of us, barely giving us a second look.
“Did you see her face?” Oya asked, then took a sip of her drink.
“I did.” I took a sip of my beer, then sat it on the bar top. “She looked like she could eat shit.”
We both paused for a moment then started laughing again. It was amazing how easy it was with her. I wasn’t shy, but when I had female clients, the conversations were mostly one-sided. I wasn’t a big flirt, but women openly flirted with me all the time. I never initiated.
“How often does that happen?” she asked, humor lacing her voice.
“Probably not as much as it happens to you,” I responded, laughing.
She arched her brow, then I knew she wanted me to answer. Not sure why she’d want to know. "It happens more often than I like to admit."
“Hmm...”
“Hmm?” I repeated with a smirk. “What does that mean?”
“Just imagining all the women you’ve had in that same room we...”
“Hold on,” I say, interrupting her comment. “What we shared, I’ve never done that before with any woman in that room or any place else. I’m not claiming to be an angel, Oya, however the time we shared was special to me even if it wasn’t to you.”
“It was special to me, too,” she murmured. “You made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. But you froze when I told you about my son.”
“Not for the reason you think.” I gulped down the last of my beer. “I want you, Oya. We can have something special. I have no doubt it will be a struggle for him but not for me.”
“He will struggle,” she said. “He's very protective because my relationship with his father wasn’t the best.” She gazed at me and like before, it was like she stared into my soul. There had to be more to us. This woman was the one meant for me despite the age difference. I knew it. I felt it. “He’d also want me to be happy.”
“You think I can make you happy?”
My heart pounded against my chest. This was it. We needed to talk more about our lives, and who we were but there was a chance.
“I can hope, Gavin. You’re so young.” She sighed. “You have so much life to live. So much life ahead of you to experience. Whyin the hell do you want a forty-something-year-old divorced woman, with a kid your age.”
“Because I’m drawn to you, Oya.” I grasped her hands. “I don’t know why but I want to get to know you.”
“If my son was thinking about doing something like this, I’d try to talk him out of it,” she confessed. “I’d question why a woman my age would want someone so young.”
“Good thing this is us then,” I said, smiling.
“Yeah, it is. Do you want to go someplace a little quieter? I can tell you whatever you want to know about me, and you can tell me how you became a Sinner?”
I arched my brow and she laughed. “Oh, I know all about the Sinners,” she continued. “Everyone does.”
We stood and I waved to the bartender. This time a guy came over instead of the woman from earlier. I settled our bill, then with my palm against her lower back I escorted her out ofEmbers. We made our way across the street, to the parking lot, then to her car.
