“Maybe you just haven’t had the right kind.” I shake my head and she drops the glass on the bar top between us, turning it around and around in her pretty hands. I must wince because she laughs, her chin tilting up but her dark eyes staying right on me. She rolls her lips to hide her smile and tips her glass back and forth. I’ve never claimed to possess an ounce of charm, but I’m usually better than this. I rub the heel of my hand against my jaw and busy myself with the drink menu, an inexplicable rush of embarrassment burning at my cheeks. Her eyelashes flutter like she’s amused and a thick press of syrupy heat curls in the space between us. I’m caught halfway between doing and wanting, the humidity from outside lingering. “Sorry,” I tell her as I slip onto the stool next to her, not quite knowing why I’m apologizing or how I got over to this seat to begin with. A tilt to her brow like she’s pissed about it, too. She turns in her stool as the door snaps shut and looks right at me like I’ve kept her waiting. My shirt clings to my skin, and her eyes cling everywhere else-a smile tilting at the corners of her mouth. She’s sitting at the bar when I walk in, summer heat thick and oppressive at my back. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Design: Sam Palencia at Ink and Laurel
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