Page 37 of The Pakhan's Kidnapped Bride
I leave the top down on my Corvette. The hot sun and ocean breeze whip around me as I speed down the beach strip towards her.
I park like an asshole, half on the pavement, right outside the entrance. No one says anything. They know better.
“Good afternoon, sir,” the bouncer says with a nod.
“Jerry,” I nod back.
Music is pulsing from inside.
I walk in to see the sun beginning to set behind the open stretch of the front of the bar. Some people are dancing on the sand, some are dancing inside under the giant palm leaves woven into the ceiling.
I squint my eyes, searching the crowd for Anya, my eyes moving through the bundles of men standing around the bar, tipsy and laughing loudly.
Where the hell is she?
I spot Philip sitting quietly on the end, sipping soda water. He tilts his head towards a front corner table. I look in the direction of his tilt and see her sitting there.
Completely alone.
There is a giant orange cocktail in front of her, half drunk. She’s sitting with her back leaning against the wall, one leg folded elegantly over the other as she stares towards the people dancing on the beach. She has a soft smile on her face, peacefully entertained. Calmly happy in her own little world.
I knit my brows, leaning against the bar and watching. I order a drink, my eyes on her, waiting for something to happen—for a man to join her, for someone to take the empty seat opposite her, returning from the bar where he went to get a fresh drink.
But it doesn’t happen.
No one comes. She’s just sitting happily alone, enjoying her own company.
I pick up my vodka soda and make my way to her table, sitting down without an invitation.
“Beautiful view, isn’t it?” I remark.
She smirks, her eyes narrowing and sparkling as she shoots me a look. “It is. What are you doing here?”
“I was passing by after work. Thought I’d stop and have a drink.” I shrug, leaning back and sipping my vodka.
“Specifically here. You just happened to choose this bar.”
“I like this bar,” I say casually.
She continues to grin at me as though she knows a secret I don’t. Her cheeks are rosy from the sun. I can smell sunscreen and sweet fruity drinks.
“Do you come here often?” I say, knowing I’m playing with fire by throwing this flirty, playful comment at her. But it slips out before I can filter it away.
“This is my first time. I’m in San Diego on vacation,” she answers, immediately playing along. “And you? I can’t imagine a lot of men coming to a beach bar in a suit.”
“I came from work and need to relax a bit before I head home.”
“Wife and kids waiting for you?” She lifts her drink and wraps her lips around the straw, drinking the last of it, her eyes on me.
“No, I’m a free man,” I grin.
Her eyes glitter again, her perfect lips curling into a perfect smile, and my heart flutters in my chest. If only I could meet her all over again. No past. No pain.
“Well, free man, I’m Anya. Now, are you going to buy a girl a drink or just sit there flirting?”
I lift my hand in the air without taking my eyes off her. The waiter comes over and I order her another drink. He smiles at her, not at me.
When he’s gone, she giggles and dips her hand into her purse, pulling out her lip gloss.
