Page 5 of Starting Back
I wanted to reason that it was curiosity not enjoyment that kept my eyes on him the entire time.
He swiveled his head around and flashed a wide grin. Instead of looking away or fumbling a denial that I’d been staring, I smiled back and shrugged. Humiliating myself right off the bat seemed to take the edge off.
My brother’s voice echoed in my head, telling me again to try. I still didn’t know if I had it in me to seek out anyone here or anywhere, but I could allow myself a little flirtation with a hot bartender—if I could pull it together enough to stop the word vomit.
“Here you go,” he said as he set a large, pink-frosted glass in front of me. “Pink lemonade frozen margarita. I tried to keep it in the same color family as your first drink, but I can make you something else if you don’t want this one.”
As a tiny smile ghosted across his mouth, I spotted the dots of gray along his chin and at his temples. He seemed to be around my age, early- to mid-forties, and the possibility made me relax.
After an afternoon of feeling like the parent or chaperone every time I scanned the pool area, finding someone I could talk to who spoke the same language—once I stopped putting my foot into my mouth—would be a hell of a lot easier for me.
My daughter constantly called me out when I used the words of her generation the wrong way. My nephew, Mike, was only a year older than Chloe but would gently let me know when I said something wrong or if it was simply toocringefor a parent to say.
I took a sip, the bite of lemonade and the salt from the tequila hitting my tongue in all the right places. Despite the slight burn warming my chest, it cooled me off at the same time.
“This is perfect. Thank you. And sorry about…before.”
“No worries,” he said as a slow smile stretched across his lips. “You were cute.”
“Cute?” I couldn’t help but snicker. “Thank you, I guess.” My cheeks heated as I finally tore my eyes away, poking at the ice in my drink. I tried to recall the last time anyone had referred to me as cute and came up empty.
Before my marriage had begun to crumble, I was confident in how I looked. I always loved to play up my green eyes and enjoyed experimenting with different hair colors and highlights. It wasn’t that I felt ugly after my marriage imploded, but I’d felt invisible for so long that the notion of an attractive man even calling me cute was a sadly surprising novelty.
“Is there a boyfriend or husband or friend coming along to drink with you?” he asked as he wiped down the bar, flicking his eyes back and forth between me and the white towel in his hand.
“Nope, traveling and drinking alone.” I raised my glass before taking another sip.
“Hmm.” He leaned against the bar, crossing his arms over his torso, a move that highlighted his broad chest and chiseled arms. My head spun, tipsy from a fixation with both that had nothing to do with the drink in my hand or the ones by the pool.
“Then I take that back. You aren’t cute.”
“I’m not cute?” I squinted at him, poking the slush in my glass with the straw.
“Your fumbling was cute. You’re actually beautiful, but I didn’t want a husband or boyfriend to overhear me say that and kick my ass.”
“Well, no one to hear you say anything but me.” I motioned to the other two patrons leaning against the edge of the bar with various colored cocktails in hand, as I tried to ignore the flush creeping up my neck from both his compliment and heated stare. “And them.”
“I thought you were with that group by the pool that kept moving all the chairs around.”
I went to take another sip and stilled.
“Wait, you noticed me by the pool? When?”
“A few hours ago.” He shrugged. “I mean, I could lie and say I was checking who was taking the poolside orders, but I’m not ashamed to admit I was staring.”
I reared back when his brows jumped.
“I wasn’t ashamed. I mean, I wasn’t.” I dipped my chin to my chest and sucked in a long inhale through my nostrils. “If I’m going to keep making a fool of myself in front of you, I should tell you my name. Kristina. With a K.” I smiled and held out my hand, not prepared for the heat that rushed up my arm when he slid his palm against mine or the shiver from the scrape of calluses on his fingertips as he clasped my hand.
What the hell was in these cocktails?
“Kristinawith a Kis a beautiful name. I’m Leo, a pleasure,” he said, a husky dip in his voice when he said “pleasure” that traveled right to my toes. He hadn’t needed two and a half cocktails to flirt. His talent shone right through.
I pulled my hand away and wrapped it around my drink, hoping the icy condensation would cool off the heat flooding my body from Leo’s stare.
“Good for you for planning your own vacation.”
I had to laugh. I’d planned this vacation under duress from the beginning. Therefore, not one thing about how I would end up at a poolside bar talking to a sexy stranger felt planned.
