Page 16 of On the Ropes
When I told my dad—right after my sister—he’d been heading off to work, apron in hand, and I’d blurted out, “Hey, Dad, guess what? I’m bisexual.”
He’d paused at the front door. “I don’t know what bisexual means yet, but if that’s what you are it must mean I love it, right?”
I’d flashed him a watery smile. “It means I’m attracted to genders like mine and genders that are different than mine. It’s who I am, on the inside.”
He hugged me then, smelling of kitchen grease and the aftershave he still used. “I love you, Tabitha. I love who you are on the inside. And I can’t wait to see who you fall in love with.”
Unfortunately, my mom and new stepfamily hadn’t been as accepting.
I ran a hand through my hair as I stood up, taking my beer with me. The night was young and I was on the happy side of tipsy. I brushed past a group of excited baseball fans and one extremely loud older dude who was flailing his arms at the TV, yelling about the score. He was blocking the cramped space between the bar and a tiny table, where another man sat with his back facing me. While I waited for Flailing Guy to calm down, my eyes skated over to the man.
I admired the elegant lines of his broad back and the lean muscles of his arms. The hand gripping the glass in front of him was large, the fingers thick, the knuckles a little swollen. I could see the veins in his forearm flexing every time Flailing Guy bellowed. His head turned slightly, revealing a crooked nose, a heavy brow, and a strong jaw clenched tight.
My brain said huh with a flicker of recognition.
A rowdy cheer went up from the people I was sandwiched between, and the man at the table twisted around in response, dark eyes flitting up to the TV screen. His heavy brow knit together, a ghost of a smile on his lips. He was white with dark brown hair, short at the sides and curly at the top, including one curl that flopped adorably over his forehead. His five o’clock shadow was subtle and sexy against his plain white T-shirt.
That flicker burst into a tiny flame. Oh, my brain said. Followed shortly by wowza. The recognition propelled me forward, my smile already growing.
“Hey…hey…hey, excuse me,” I half yelled at Flailing Guy, trying unsuccessfully to duck again. He was like a tank. Then the sports fans behind me all stumbled at the same time, shoving me hard.
“Wait, whoa,” I started to say, just as the tank in front of me stepped to the side. The momentum spun me forward, and I dropped, not very gracefully, right into the lap of the sexy, stubbly, broad-shouldered hottie at the table.
“Oof,” I gasped, happily stunned at the warmth of his body, the muscular arms boxing me in, his thighs like steel beneath me. When our eyes met, my tentative smile transformed into a full-on, cheesy grin. His cheeks flushed immediately.
“Of all the laps in this damn city, I had to fall into yours,” I said.
“Tabitha?” he croaked out.
“The one and only,” I said with a wink. “Nice to see ya, Dean Knox-Morelli.”
