Page 6 of The Wildest One
“Hi.” That was the only word that dared to come out of my mouth. All the others were locked on top of my tongue, the key nowhere to be found.
He let out a small chuckle—a sound that was better than any song I’d ever heard—and he smiled. “Hello.” He wasn’t just looking at me. He was looking through me. Those big hazel eyes, rimmed with long lashes, felt as though they were covering my entire body, not just connecting with my gaze. “I can tell you need a drink. I want to be the one who buys it for you.”
Talk, Jolie. Use your words.
You’ve been around plenty of handsome men before, just not this delicious. But that shouldn’t matter. At the end of the day, he’s just another guy.
Who am I kidding? Beck Weston isn’t just another guy.
He’stheguy.
I cleared my throat. “You think I need a drink?”
His tongue skimmed the inside of his bottom lip. “Yes.”
“And what gave you that impression?”
“We’ll call it a hunch.”
My voice was soft as I said, “You don’t have to buy it. I can pay for my own. But that’s really nice of you to offer.”
“I want to.” He continued to look at me with those smoldering eyes. “Let me.”
I found myself smiling, and then I found myself nodding.
As he leaned over the edge of the bar—our shoulders basically pressed together within the tight, narrow space we’d squeezed into—he extended his hand. “I’m Beck.”
“I know. I …”
I went to the game? I know all about your career? I’m the most avid hockey fan?I bit my lip instead of saying any of that and watched his stare move to my mouth.
His hand was so large as it clasped mine; I suddenly felt child-sized.
“I’m Jolie.”
As he gripped me harder, my body reacted. This wasn’t just a simple shaking of my hand. He was setting me on fire, and instead of using a match, he was using a flamethrower.
“Jolie … that’s different. I like it.”
My throat was threatening to close in. “I’m named after ‘Jolene.’ You know, the Dolly Parton song. The lyrics don’t exactly fit the way my parents met or their love story, but since it’s the first song they ever danced to, it’s meaningful to them.”
Why had I gone from locked up to word-vomit mode? I was starting to sound like Ginger, and no one in this world talked as much as my best friend.
“Jolene is your real name, then?”
I nodded, my fingers falling from his, and I immediately linked both of my hands together. “I shorten it, depending on my mood and who I’m meeting. But Jolie is what my friends call me.”
“Jolie, what’s your mood right now?”
I laughed. I didn’t know how else to react.
“I guess you’re considering me part of that friend circle,” he continued.
While he waited for a response, my face blushed.
“A whiskey sour, light on the sour,” the bartender said, placing a glass in front of me, saving me from replying. “And just whiskey.” A tumbler was set in front of Beck.
I unlinked my fingers and wrapped them around the cold glass. “Thank you,” I said to the bartender. “And thank you,” I voiced to Beck, still staring at him as I added, “Tell me why, out of all the people in this bar, you want to buymea drink.”
