Page 43 of When There Was You
When I glance his way, he’s cuffing the back of his head and staring straight ahead. Perhaps he’s having a bad day.
“Can I buy you a drink? Help fuel your”—his hand swirls in the air, his brows lifting my way again—“happiness?”
I decide to cut him some slack. “Sure. Maybe some of it will rub off on you.”
He tips his head at the bartender. “We’ll take two more when you have a minute, please,” he says, motioning to our drinks.
My eyes slide down his body while he’s occupied. He’s a full-on man, with muscular arms straining a black button-down rolled halfway up his forearms, blue jeans that are dark but broken in, and scuffed work boots that remind me of two mechanics I’m still trying to forget. It’s enough to get my heart skipping a beat.
And it’s been a really,reallylong time since there’s been any of that nonsense.
The barkeep places a fresh cocktail on my napkin, and I murmur a thanks. “And thank you…?”
“Butch.” He lifts his beer.
“Hmm. Never met a Butch before.”
“Today’s the day, apparently.”
“Apparently.”
“And you are?”
I can’t help myself. “Sundance.”
He shakes his head, once again fighting a smile, and I realize how much I want to see him unleash a genuine one. “Although…”
“What?”
His gaze drags over me from top to bottom. “It fits.”
My cheeks burn, and I’m left tongue-tied.
He tips his beer, the liquid making his Adam’s apple undulate in a way I can’t help but watch. His shirt is open a few buttons and my eyes zero in on the golden skin peeking through.God, stop checking him out already.
“You live around here?” I ask.
“Not really. You?”
Another cryptic motherfucker. “Not even close.”
His eyebrows lift again. “Where you from, Sundance?”
“California.”
Butch snorts. “Figures.”
“Why? Because my hair’s blond? Give me a break.”
“Like, totally, I’m sure,” he deadpans, attempting—and failing at—the proper inflection.
I toss him a glare and sip more of my drink. I want to shoot every Valley girlandFrank Zappa, whose stupid song broadcasted their existence to the entire world.
He raises his hands in surrender. “Just teasing. You here on vacation?”
“Job interview.”
“That’s the reason for the good mood?”
