Page 7 of Vodka And Virtue

“Carlisle, calm down and take a deep breath. There’s no way on earth I would let you close up alone and walk to your car in the middle of the night in a dark empty parking lot. If it makes you uncomfortable, then let’s pretend I’m just doing it for myself or for your family’s sake, not yours.”

He huffed out his breath and slung his rag down on the counter. ”I’m sorry if that sounded incredibly rude. Sometimes, you make me feel as if I’m under investigation or something. It unnerves me.”

My respect for him tripled because of his honesty. Carlisle had a way of admitting vulnerability while still maintaining his pride and independence. It was a refreshing and admirable combination of traits that made me all the more interested in him.

“I assure you, I’m not investigating you, Carly. Just looking at something pleasant while I pass the time.”

“It’s Carlisle. And I’m ready whenever you are.” With that, he reached under the bar to grab his wallet and keys, stowed his apron, and then strolled to the door without a backward glance.

3

CARLISLE

Most people loathed Mondays,but I didn’t mind them so much. It was my day off. Carson and I were on our way out to lunch and to run some errands we had neglected throughout the week.

“I thought we were going for burgers.”

“We are,” Carson explained. “But I have to drop by Uncle G’s house on the way. He called and asked me to return the tools he left at our house last week when he came to fix the lawnmower.”

My uncle couldn’t figure out why, in a house of three grown men, none of us could fix our own things. He stopped by at least once a week to check on us, despite the fact we were all nearing thirty, and usually brought his tools with him to repair something or other.

When we pulled up, my uncle was outside, working on his bike in the driveway. And wasn’t it just my luck that Rory was kneeling right beside him, helping out? Of all the people I wanted to run into today, he was definitely at the bottom of my list.

After talking with him several times this week, he honestly didn’t seem like a bad guy. But he unsettled me in a way no one ever had. He made me hyper aware of him. Aware of how close he stood to me, aware of his facial expressions, and the tone of his deep smooth voice. Even from across the room, when I felt his eyes on me, my stomach swooped, and I became self-conscious.

He smirked when I stepped out of the car, and I couldn’t help but notice how incredible he looked in his worn jeans and tight black T-shirt. Colorful tattoos snaked down his corded arms, painting his skin like an artist's canvas. I’d never really noticed them before because he always wore a jacket at work. His dark hair brushed his neck, tickling the tops of his ears on the sides. It looked like a shaggy mess that hadn’t been combed in a week, added to that the dark scruff lining his jaw, and he looked like the ultimate bad boy biker bouncer I knew him to be. It wasn’t a look I ever thought I would be attracted to, but I couldn’t take my eyes off him. And he knew it, too, which was why he was still smirking!

“See something you like?” His voice rumbled in a smooth drawl, settling over my skin like a cool breeze that made goosebumps prickle my flesh.

“Does that line ever work for you?”

I sounded more harsh than I intended to, but I felt like I stuck out like a neon sign with the attention from my brother and my uncle focused on me.

But Rory just chuckled. Apparently, my attitude amused him.

Fuck. That was also hot. No eye rolling, no bitching at me to change my tone, just sitting there, easy as apple pie, smirking and enjoying the lower points of my personality.

Did nothing upset this man?

I remembered my brother's suggestion from the other day. He said that if my normal routine wasn’t working for me, I should switch it up. Of course, he was referring to dating a man, and at the time, I thought he was being absurd, but now… Maybe he was on to something?

I hated to admit I was attracted to Rory, but I was.

More than a little.

But he unnerved me as well, and I hated that he could make me feel uncomfortable in my own skin.

What other powers of persuasion did he have over me?

My uncle grabbed for the tool bag. “Where are you boys off to?”

“On our way to grab some lunch,” Carson explained. “Do either of you want to join us?”

I panicked and spoke before they could answer. “They look busy.”

I could feel his eyes on me, hot and heavy, and I swallowed, trying to appear calm instead of panicked. But Rory missed nothing. That man could read me like a book, apparently. He was highly intuitive for a big hulking caveman of a bear.

“That’s okay. Y’all can run along. Graham and I are nowhere near finished, and Carly looks hungry.”

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