The moment she opens her mouth I know exactly who she fucking is. Frankly, I was hoping to never see her again.
“It’s the bar, isn’t it?” I ask.
She smiles. It’s just like an American girl to pretend I’m being polite when I’m not.
“I’m just never quite sure,” she says with a little laugh. “Everywhere seems to have slightly different rules, you know? I’ve just starting asking so I don’t offend anyone.”
It’s the girl from the bridge.
The one who stopped her car a year ago, the one who fucking talked me off a ledge and watched while I walked away.
Someone who saw me at my lowest point — well, all right, one of the lowest points, there’s been a fair fucking few — and who I really hoped I’d never see again, because the only thing worse than being seen like that is being seen like that by a pretty girl.
She blinks, and she’s got big hazel eyes framed with long lashes, some kind of eye makeup on but fuck me if I know what, but I know one thing: she’s trying to charm me by being friendly.
And it’s working. She’s even prettier now, in the pub, than on the verge of tears last year and since I’m stone-cold sober at the moment, I’m in far better shape to appreciate such.
Still doesn’t mean I want her here. I don’t think she recognizes me and I’d prefer she move on before she does.
“Right, it’s the bar, you order here,” I say. I don’t move from where I’m leaning, and I don’t uncross my arms. “But I’m fresh out of cosmopolitans, appletinis, lemondrops, or anything a girl could drink enough of to start making a scene, so that’s what you’re looking for I recommend you look elsewhere.”
Just leave. Please just leave.
Of course she doesn’t. She laughs. As if I was joking.
“This crowd drink you out of appletinis?” she asks, glancing around at the scattered old men each individually nursing a pint in silence.
I look back at the football highlights on the telly.
“What do you have?”
“Beer, cider, whiskey, gin. It’s a pub, love.”
“Then give me a pub beer.”
“We’ve got bitter and stout, and none of that shite with an orange slice. American girls usually don’t like it.”
She hops up onto a bar stool, flops her purse onto the stool next to her, and wriggles out of her jacket, pushing her hand through her curly hair.
It’s one hell of a wriggle. It’s a wriggle to make a man forget he wants this nosy, pushy American to leave his pub.
“I’ll take a pint of bitter,” she says.
She pauses, gives me a quick, annoyed glance up and down.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” she says. “Are you going to let me exchange money for beer or what?”
I could refuse, of course. I can refuse to serve anyone for any reason, but as much as I really want her to leave I also don’t, because she’s fucking pretty, she’s giving it right back to me, and maybe she’ll wriggle back into her jacket.
I pour her the beer, put it down in front of her.
“Three pounds twenty,” I say. She hands me a five pound note, and as I’m handing her change back, something on her left hand catches the light.
It’s a diamond ring.
No: it’s a diamond ring the size of a small lorry. Fucking wonder that she can lift her hand with that thing on it. Clearly someone else has been enticed by her wiggle, someone with quite a lot of money and a need to show it off.
That’s all it is, obviously. A ring that can be seen from orbit fucking smacks of insecurity and the desire to impress one’s friends more than it does of love, right?
She takes a sip, watching me, and I realize I haven’t moved. That I’m still standing in front of her, like I’m expecting to converse or something.
“It’s no appletini, but it’s not bad,” she says.
I love writing sexy, alpha men and the headstrong women they fall for.
My weaknesses include: beards, whiskey, nice abs with treasure trails, sarcasm, cats, prowess in the kitchen, prowess in the bedroom, forearm tattoos, and gummi bears.
I live in California with my very own sexy, bearded, whiskey-loving husband and two hell-raising cats.
Get my romance novella Dirty Sweet FREE when you join my mailing list!
The sexy, action-packed first book in the #1 New York Times bestselling Court of Thorns and Roses series from Sarah J. Maas.
When nineteen-year-old huntress Feyre kills a wolf in the woods, a terrifying creature arrives to demand retribution. Dragged to a treacherous magical land she knows about only from legends, Feyre discovers that her captor is not truly a beast, but one of the lethal, immortal faeries who once ruled her world.
At least, he’s not a beast all the time.
As she adapts to her new home, her feelings for the faerie, Tamlin, transform from icy hostility into a fiery passion that burns through every lie she’s been told about the beautiful, dangerous world of the Fae. But something is not right in the faerie lands. An ancient, wicked shadow is growing, and Feyre must find a way to stop it, or doom Tamlin-and his world-forever.
From bestselling author Sarah J. Maas comes a seductive, breathtaking book that blends romance, adventure, and faerie lore into an unforgettable read.
Strictly Necessary Cookies
Strictly Necessary Cookie should be enabled at all times so that we can save your preferences for cookie settings.
If you disable this cookie, we will not be able to save your preferences. This means that every time you visit this website you will need to enable or disable cookies again.
3rd Party Cookies
This website uses Google Analytics to collect anonymous information such as the number of visitors to the site, and the most popular pages.
Keeping this cookie enabled helps us to improve our website.
Please enable Strictly Necessary Cookies first so that we can save your preferences!