Page 4 of Starting Back
“You threatened them? Way to kill my social life,” I teased, smiling when he groaned.
“My teenage sister wasn’t dating college guys. Dad would have lost his shit, so if I hadn’t stopped them, he would have.”
A laugh slipped out at the reminder of much simpler times. I wasn’t too young to dateanyonenow, but I had no clue where to begin or if I even wanted to after how my marriage had ended.
Love was supposed to be worth fighting for, but after going through the motions for all that time, I doubted if that kind of love was even possible—at least for me.
My marriage ending upset me because it meant that I failed, not that I’d lost a great love. Friends tried to comfort me by saying it was better to have loved and lost, but I couldn’t remember the love to appreciate it enough to miss it.
I’d only lost.
“Anyway, I figured that since you have a young wife, you’d know the lingo.”
“Peyton is in her early thirties, and with me, so she doesn’t use the termhookup.”
I burst out laughing at the finality in his voice. “Still gone for your wife, I see.”
“Always.” I could hear his smile. “And I know it feels hopeless for you right now. I’ve been there, but I’m telling you not to give up. Sometimes things don’t work out because something else is meant to be. I believe that now, and you should too.”
“Right,” I said, blowing out a long breath as I swirled the rest of the melted slush at the bottom of my glass.
“Don’t ‘right’ me, baby sister. Try. Open your mind. We’ve all got the kids covered. The only person you have to worry about is you for the next few days. And if you dohook upwith anyone, please be careful and don’t tell me any details.”
A smile pulled across my lips. “I love you, big brother. Even if you cockblocked me in high school.”
“Please don’t ever say cockblock to me again. And I love you too.”
I let my head fall back on the small pillow and shut my eyes. I resolved to force myself to relax and have fun, but first, I needed a refill, and I couldn’t find the waiter who’d taken my last two poolside drink orders. I slipped my feet into my flip-flops and headed to the bar, settling on one of the stools. I twisted the stem of the empty glass with my thumb and index finger as I studied the frozen drink menu on the whiteboard behind the bar.
“Need help making a decision?”
I jumped, so in my own head I hadn’t noticed the bartender’s approach.
“I guess I do,” I said, turning my head toward the deep timbre and then fighting not to ogle lower. His hair was black and cropped short, but long enough for it to curl a bit in the front. His eyes were an unusual mix of golden brown and green, with long, thick lashes grazing his brow bone. He held my gaze as he scooped up my empty glass, the hint of a smile lifting the corner of his full lips.
“Well, it’s my job to help you out.” His smile deepened, teasing a dimple on his stubbled cheek. A black T-shirt stretched across his chest, the poor cotton sleeves straining from the muscles of his inked arms. He was built, not bulky, and so damn good-looking it was almost impossible to maintain eye contact.
I was relieved when he turned around, but then I had to tear my gaze away from his backside. The globes of his ass filled out his jeans just like his arms and chest filled out his shirt. I almost had the urge to dig for my phone, as this was a prime example of the hot bartender Nicole was hoping I’d find.
“Something wrong?” he asked as he set the whiteboard in front of me.
“No, why?” I cleared my throat, holding in a cringe when my voice cracked.
“I noticed you staring.” My cheeks heated when I spied the twitch of a smirk in the corner of his perfect mouth.
At forty-two, I’d seen plenty of attractive men before. I’d sometimes give a quick second glance of admiration, but they never affected me like this on sight. It was as if this guy were seeing right through me, and it made me squirm enough to forget how to speak a coherent sentence.
“Oh, I wasn’t staring, just that… Isn’t it hot to be in jeans? The rest of the bartenders are practically wearing bathing suits. Just thought that you were hot, or that you may be hot.” I groaned as my head fell back. “Listen, I’m going to blame the way I’m acting right now on drinking in the sun, and I’d appreciate it if you did too.”
His gruff chuckle settled deep in my belly.
“I’ve seen plenty of guests after a day of double-fisting drinks in the Florida sun. I promise you’re nowhere near that. If you don’t know what you want, would you mind if I picked for you?”
“Sure,” I said, relaxing a little at his warm and easy smile. “There isn’t much I don’t like…” I trailed off when he cocked a brow. “Jesus Christ, please just pick a drink for me so the wrong words don’t keep coming out of my mouth.”
“You’re fine,” he rasped, his smile fading as his gaze slid back to mine. “I’ll be right back.”
When he picked up a tall glass from the shelf behind him and ambled toward the bottles at the rear of the bar, my eyes were glued to the way his back muscles worked as he loaded the blender with ice and the fluid way he switched from one spouted bottle to another.
