Page 43 of The Innocent

What? He must’ve read her confusion. He nodded and grabbed a bottle from under the bar, flipped off the cap, and took a long swig. Imogene found herself waiting on the edge of her seat.

He slammed the bottle on the bar top. “Best thing to do is change your focus. Gotta make it something big though.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Rob a bank, get shitfaced. Get laid.”

Her cheeks immediately heated, and she felt her blush rush from her chest to her cheeks. Grain waved his finger inches from her face.

“That’s what you need. Get laid. It relaxes women, trust me on this.”

This was hands down the most bizarre conversation she’d ever had with a stranger. And funnily enough, she was semi-intrigued. Imogene knew she was in need of some type of companionship, but sex with a random guy?

She folded her arms, resting her elbows on the bar. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Grain scoffed. “You don’t need a boyfriend. You need a man. You got one of those?”

She bit her bottom lip when a vision of Jekyll popped in her head.

Grain burst out laughing. “Yeah, you fucking do.”

She immediately shook her head. “I don’t. He’s just someone I...” She couldn’t even finish the sentence. Describing her feelings for a man she barely knew as a crush seemed juvenile. Expressing her obsession might get her a restraining order.

“I don’t think he’s interested in me.”

“Why the fuck wouldn’t he want you?” His arm shot out, pointing to the mirrored backdrop holding all the liquor. “Look at you. Fucking beautiful. Trust me on this, sweetheart. He’s interested.” Grain raked his hand over his beard. “Maybe he’s waiting on you to make the first move. Some men like broads like that.”

Did he just say broads? As in women?

“This is what you’re gonna do.” Grain folded his arms. “Got his number?”

I do. Though it was from false and illegal pretenses. That she would keep to herself.

“Yes.”

“Call him.” He tapped his finger on the bar. “Right now.”

What?

Imogene shook her head. “Oh, I don’t know…”

“Listen to me” —he pointed at her, and she immediately clamped her lips— “You got another ten minutes before your food is up. Plenty of time to make the call and distract yourself from your job. Unless you wanna spend the next couple hours stressing over your meeting and eating greasy food, which is the perfect storm for heartburn. Does that sound like fun, sweetheart? No! So go make the call.”

Should I? She stared back at Grain, and he cocked his brow. “Right now.”

Imogene wasn’t sure what came over her. Maybe it was his strenuous encouragement or his pep talk beforehand. But she’d made the decision.

“Okay.”

He gave a curt nod and pointed to the front door. “Gotta do that outside. My old lady hates when people get on the phone in here. She’ll lose her shit, and trust me, you don’t wanna be on Gee’s bad side.”

She hopped off the stool and grabbed her phone. She practically ran out of the bar knowing if she gave it more rational thought, she probably wouldn’t make the call.

For reasons unknown to her, Imogene had saved his number in her phone. It was the only contact information on his paperwork. She tapped his name in her list and drew in a deep breath. She hadn’t even given any thought to what she was going to say. She’d start with pleasantries and thank him again for walking her to her car. If that went well, maybe she could suggest coffee or lunch.

The phone rang a few times as she silently rehearsed what she would say.

“Yeah?”