Page 19 of Forget Me Not

"Let's see." He presses his palms to the top of the bar, elbows raised. "Dinner and a movie would be the safest option. I mean, who doesn't like food and movies?"

He’s right, but I feel like there’s more to him than dinner and a movie. "And the unsafe option?"

"There's a bonfire tomorrow night at the power lines. Music, drinking, college-aged kids raising hell."

I pull my drink toward me, leaning down to let the straw slip between my lips. "I'm listening."

"I get out at ten tomorrow.” He leans over the bar until our faces are mere inches from each other’s. I catch the scent of his cologne. It’s sweet yet musky and I find I really like it. “So, Rhea…do you wanna play it safe, or unsafe?"

I ponder on it for a minute while sucking down half the contents of my glass. Then I let the straw lazily part ways with my mouth. "I've always been a risk-taker.” I bite my lip. “So, let's raise some hell."

Tyler snaps his fingers at me with a wink. "I like the way you think." He straightens his back and glances down at Taryn. "I gotta get back to work before Taryn really does kick my ass. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I grab my drink, pulling it back toward me as I get comfortable on the stool. "I'll be here."

A few minutes pass and I’m staring into an empty glass, my head swimming only a little. Scouring the area, I look at all the tipsy customers paying no attention to little ol’ me. It’s a nice change from all the sideways glances I get when I walk into a room in this town.

Knowing no one is watching, I casually lean across the bar and grab a bottle of vodka and quickly pour a shot’s worth, or two, into my glass.

“Hey,” the man beside me snaps, “you can’t do that.”

“Sure I can.” I slide the vodka back into the holder behind the bar. “I work here.” Without hesitation, I grab my glass and scurry away, chuckling to myself before he can get another word out.

Suddenly, someone steps right in my way and I collide full force into him, spilling my stolen drink all over myself. “What the hell!” I seethe, hands out—one holding my now empty glass. I look down at my doused dress and my lips curl into a snarl before I lift my head to meet the eyes of my accomplice to this disaster. “It’s you,” I say, before realizing the words actually left my mouth.

“And it’s you.” The words roll off his tongue and into my ears, lingering for a while. His voice is coarse and gravelly, void of any emotion.

Once again, I find myself lost in his gaze. The way his eyes lock on mine is hypnotizing.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” he says, moving to go around me.

I spin around, watching him walk away while vodka runs down my leg.

Oh no he didn’t.

“Hey,” I shout as I go after him. “Hey! Come back here!”

Okay, I might be a little tipsy, but this man walked right into me and spilled my drink, without even so much as an apology or an ‘excuse me.’ It takes two bodies to collide and his was one of them. He could have been a gentleman and offered to buy me a new drink. Or, at the very least, got me a damn towel.

“Hey, you!” I raise my voice, trying to be heard over the bass that’s rattling my bones.

When he doesn’t so much as glance over his shoulder, I follow him to the bar. He stops at the end, waiting with an empty glass.

“What the hell was that?” I scoff, slamming my empty glass beside his.

His head turns slowly to face mine, shoulders taut and teeth clenched. “Excuse me?”

“You spilled my drink.” I gesture to my dress that is very clearly now carrying said drink.

He chuckles, but the sound lacks any enthusiasm. “You’re drunk. Just walk away before you make a scene, little girl.”

“Little girl?” I sputter a laugh as my arms fan around me. “Are you kidding me right now? I have just as much right to be here as you do…old man.”

The jackass grips his empty glass, his knuckles white, jaw clenched. He lifts it slightly, then brings it back down as if he’s beckoning Tyler toward him.

“I know you hear me.” I get closer to him. So close that I can smell his intoxicating scent. It’s a mixture of leather—which is one of my favorite smells—and vanilla. Of course he would smell good on top of being drop-dead gorgeous. His attitude, though, that fucking wreaks of entitled asshole.

Tyler comes over, his questioning eyes dancing from me to the jerk beside me. “Everything okay over here?” he asks hesitantly.

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