Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77611 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77611 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Except for that guy.
Holy shit, Ponytail Guy is gorgeous. Even when he’s impersonating The Grinch.
The man I’ve been trying to check out since I got here is scowling at me with an intensity that startles me so much I almost forget to start the second verse.
My world narrows, as if a spotlight has landed directly on him, blocking out everything and everyone else around us.
There are two reasons I don’t look away. The first is that he’s legitimately stunning. The second is—Why the hell is he scowling? Like I said, I haven’t performed in a while, but when I do, everyone usually enjoys it. I suppose he could be married to the pregnant vocalist he thinks I’m auditioning to replace. Or he could hate music. If either is true, it would be a waste of truly mouthwatering packaging, but whatever.
Despite—or maybe because of—his glower, I double down, pouring myself into my performance, adding unnecessary sex appeal to the light holiday ditty and singing directly to him as if daring him to stop me. I pull out some moves I haven’t used in years—it’s all in the hips—and even throw in an impressive run or two that the rest of the audience vocally appreciates.
I’m aware that this really isn’t that kind of song, but in my head I’m basically Maureen from Rent right now saying, “Take me baby or leave me.”
His reaction is to take a small step toward the stage before stopping himself, and that’s when I realize it isn’t anger in his expression at all. The answering tug in my gut is strong enough to shock me.
Arousal and awareness. Mutual and unexpected. Understandable on my end, since he looks like the love child of a GQ cover model and the romantasy hero Bex and I drooled over at our last two-person book club meeting. He definitely gives off grumpy dragon assassin vibes. Not my usual type IRL, but apparently, I’m here for it tonight.
And it’s looking like he’s here for me.
He really is handsome. Not as big as Val—few people are—but he’s still tall enough to top most of the men around him. Including Seamus Finn, the pub’s owner, who’s standing at his side and looking at him as if they were in the middle of a conversation that my dragon interrupted to try to burn my clothes off with the fierceness of his attention.
He’s not yours.
Not yet.
I take him in, studying the light-brown skin and sandy-brown hair pulled tightly back, highlighting strong features that look Italian or Middle Eastern. He has thick eyebrows, a permanent furrow to his brow and his jaw is shadowed with darker stubble. I bet his chest is hairy too. I wonder if he’d like me to help him out of his expensive clothes so I can find out and he can be free to wreak some fiery havoc on the nearest village.
I’m the village in this scenario.
Lucky for me, I’m nobody’s role model tonight. Just a guy who wants to get to the end of this song so I can introduce myself to the man I’ll be propositioning.
What about Val and Connor?
They’re grown men who can take care of themselves.
That almost shakes me out of my lust-induced haze, because it’s not something I’ve ever thought before. Taking care of my friends is my thing. Part of my identity, along with loving musicals and telenovelas, and knowing odd facts about the founding mothers and fathers of our nation. It’s this insta-obsession with a complete stranger that isn’t normal for me.
Still, I can’t stop staring. He seems so out of place here. It’s not only the way he’s not dressed for the Christmas party—in tailored dark-gray slacks and a formfitting white dress shirt that he’s wearing with the sleeves rolled up like a tease.
(Who doesn’t love a good forearm?)
It’s how he’s standing, as if he’s ready to repel any comers. The tightness in his shoulders. He looks more uncomfortable than Val usually does, so I bet he’s not a regular at any bar. At least, not any around here.
Maybe that’s part of his allure. I doubt I’ve ever run into him at the grocery store or that he has a kid in my school, which makes him more enticing. The way he’s focusing entirely on me doesn’t hurt either. I’ve always wondered what passionate and potentially aggressive sex would feel like. I get the sense that I could experience that with him tonight.
And now I’ve turned a wholesome song raunchy and I have a hard-on. More firsts for me. Thank goodness for drunk audiences and oversized sweaters.
As I belt the last bridge, he reaches into his snug pants pocket for his phone without looking away from me and says something to Seamus, who nods and gestures toward the back. The stranger gives me one last blazing look, subtly tilts his head, and then disappears down a hallway.