What's Left of Me (4 page)

Jean mumbles something about needing the bathroom and turns around, heading that way without waiting for anyone to respond.

I finally sit down at the table.
 
My mind has become too foggy with Jean’s words, the music, and the alcohol.
 
Reaching for another glass of water on the table, I start to drink.

Thinking just gets in the way of living.

Her words replay in my head until they sink in.
 
Damn it, why does she always throw this kind of words back at me?
 
I do deserve to have some fun for once.

The waitress stops to collect our empties, and Shannon tells her we’ll take our tab, then excuses herself from the table.
 
I’m not sure where she’s going until I watch her make her way over to the bar, and my jaw drops when I see her talking to Mr. Handsome.
 
My Mr. Handsome!

Wait, when did he become my Mr. Handsome?

He’s sitting with his left side against the bar and a beer in his hand.
 
There’s another guy sitting to his right, facing Shannon, who is standing between the two.

Mr. Handsome starts laughing at something she said.

My God, he is so beautiful.

Okay,
I just called a man beautiful.
 
Yep, I’m officially drunk.

Shannon says something else while placing her hand on his shoulder, causing both men to laugh again.
 
Great, she’s flirting with them.
 
She looks at Mr. Handsome one last time, saying something to him before smiling and turning down the hallway where the bathrooms are.

I shouldn’t be jealous.
 
He’s not mine.
 
But a part of me
is
jealous.

A little.

As if he knows I’m watching him, he turns his head and meets my eyes.

Those fucking blue eyes.

I swallow, watching him stare back at me.
 
I can almost feel the heat coming from his gaze.
 
I couldn’t look away right now even if I wanted to.
 
We stare at each other for what feels like minutes, when Jean interrupts.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you two are totally eye fucking each other right now.”

Breaking my eyes from his, I pick up my purse and give a twenty and a ten to Jean.
 
“I don’t know who paid for what, or how much I owe, but this should help cover the tab.
 
The waitress is supposed to be bringing it.
 
I’m going to the bathroom before we head out.”

“Okay.
 
I’ll meet you right here with Shannon.”

Walking away from the table, I head toward the bathroom, which just happens to take me past Mr. Handsome himself.

I don’t really have to use the bathroom.
 
I just needed an excuse to get away from Mr. Handsome and those beautiful eyes before I do something stupid like walk over there and straddle him at the bar.
 
What I need is to splash some water on my face and catch my breath.

Not looking his way, I turn the corner, but I can feel his eyes burning into the back of my head.

I’ve never—I repeat,
never
—picked a guy up at a bar.
 
I wouldn’t even know the first thing about picking someone up.
 
Am I supposed to cite some lame cheesy pick-up line?
 
Excuse me, I’m a little short on cash.
 
Would you mind if we shared a cab home together?
 
Or take the bold and direct approach and just straight up ask for his number?
 
I’m clueless when it comes to the rules of this game.

I’m grateful when I reach the door to the ladies’ room, and there isn’t anyone around.
 
I reach for the handle when I hear from behind me, “Not going to use the men’s room again?”
 
I know that sexy voice.

Mr. Handsome.

With my heart racing, I turn around and smile sweetly.
 
“No, I’m going to sit down and pee this time.”
 
My smile widens, and I say a silent thanks to sweet baby Jesus for letting me find my voice this time.

He doesn’t respond.
 
He just steps closer to me with the corner of his lips spreading upward.

I don’t breathe.

I can’t breathe.
 
Not when he is this close.

God, he smells amazing.
 
Like a mixture of spice and mint.
 
Maybe a hint of beer too.
 
It's the type of scent that would awaken a primal desire within any female, and good God, do I feel awakened.

“You ran off before I could thank you for the dance earlier.”

No, thank you.

His voice is a faint whisper, and his face is now so close that our noses are almost touching.
 
I glance at his very attractive red lips just as the corners of his mouth move up into the most beautiful smile.

Shit.
 
He knows I’m looking at his lips.

I’m transfixed by him, and all I can think about are those lips on mine.
 
I would take him in this hallway.
 
There, I said it.

Or, did I think it?

Do something.

Anything!

I look back at his lips.

I want to feel his lips against mine.
 
I don’t care.
 
I’ll say any cheesy pick-up line if it means I get to go home with him.

I know he’s watching me, and that he’s thinking about
my
lips because his tongue comes out, licking his own.
 
I feel him close the distance between us.
 
He puts a finger under my chin for the second time tonight, lifting my face so that I’m looking right into his eyes.

He speaks in a low, raspy whisper. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

Without waiting for permission, his lips crash down on mine.
 
He takes my top lip into his mouth, tugging ever so gently.
 
I let out a soft moan as his tongue lightly traces my lips, tasting me.
 
I can smell the fresh mint and beer on his breath, and all I can think about is tasting it.

I grab his neck, bringing him closer, opening my mouth … inviting him in.

He groans as I wrap my arms around his neck, running my hands through his hair.
Shit, if I die tomorrow, I can die a happy woman knowing this is my last kiss.

His tongue enters my mouth and I meet it with my own.
 
He reaches down to lift me up and I let him.
 
I wrap my legs around his waist just as he slams my back against the wall in the corner of the hallway.
 
There’s a rush of pain that shoots down my legs, causing me to cry out. He must take that as a cry of pleasure because he kisses me harder.

My dress rises all the way to my waist, exposing me to anyone who walks by.
 
My head falls back against the wall and he immediately starts kissing down my chin to my neck, then up to my earlobe, taking it in his mouth and biting down.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he whispers softly in my ear.
 
I nod in agreement, afraid if I say anything it won’t be yes.

And I really want it to be yes.

Setting me down, he runs his hands over my dress, settling it back into place, then grabs my hand and starts speed walking toward the exit sign.

Chapter Three

Exiting the bar, he holds my hand and leads me around the corner and down the sidewalk.
 
I’m afraid to look at him because maybe then he’ll realize he’s making a mistake and I don’t want him to second-guess himself.
 
Hell, I don’t want to second-guess myself.

I quickly pull out my phone and text Jean, letting her know I didn’t get lost.
 
I’m not worried what she’ll think because she was the one encouraging this.

Me:
Left with Mr. Handsome. See you in the am.

About ten seconds later, my phone vibrates in my hand.

Jean:
WHAT!!?!? Details tomorrow!

Shaking my head, I put my phone back into my purse.

“Everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah.
 
I just told my friend that I left.”

He doesn’t say anything, just a slight head nod of understanding.

Aside from the sound of my heels on the pavement, and his fingers twirling the keys in his hand, we walk in silence, enjoying the warm night breeze.
 
Summers in Minnesota are so beautiful.
 
It’s a shame they don’t last long.

I wonder if I’m insane for leaving a bar with a man whose name I don’t even know.

“I only live about five minutes from here.”
 
Pointing his fingers ahead, he adds, “Just up a block, then down two.”

I smile up at him.
 
Looking down at our locked hands, I wonder if I should say something, but I don’t know what to say, or what to do.
 
Maybe I should ask his name?
 
That might be good.
 
A little icebreaker.
 
Fuck, why is this so difficult?
 
I’m just making this more awkward.
 
I decide it’s better if I don’t speak.

I look over at him.
 
He’s running his hand through his hair.
 
He looks just as nervous as me, which makes me happy.

Okay, I need to shut off all my thoughts before I talk myself out of this.

We stop at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change.
 
He clears his throat next to me.

Shit, he’s backing out!

“My name’s Parker, by the way.”

I close my eyes and sigh with relief. Smiling, I look up at him.
 
He has a hopeful expression on his face.
 
It makes him look a lot younger than I’m guessing he is.

“My name is Aundrea.”

He squeezes my hand and smiles back.
 
“It’s nice to meet you, Aundrea.”

We round the corner and start making our way down the remaining two blocks.
 
I think he can sense my uneasiness because he pulls me in close to him, wrapping his arm around my waist.
 
I can’t help but think how perfect I fit against his side.
 
His thumb traces small circles on my side, raising goosebumps all over my body.

We reach what I assume is his apartment building.
 
However, it doesn’t look like an apartment building at all.
 
It looks more like a hotel, lit with glowing yellow and orange lights.
 
It’s a stunning brick building with windows lining it all the way to the roof.

He releases my waist, guiding me under a black canopy covering the stairs that lead up to the front door with the lightest of touches at the small of my back.
 
There is a security guard who opens the door and greets us with a brief wave and smile.
 
Parker’s arm slides back around my waist as we enter the gorgeous building.

I’m in awe as we head toward the elevators clear across the other side of the big, open lobby.
 
The building has a unique historic charm, with a huge mural of a light blue sky and white clouds on the ceiling and a huge gold chandelier hanging in the center.
 
There are marble columns scattered throughout.
 
It’s absolutely breathtaking.
 
The gentleman at the desk to the right of the elevators greets us with a warm smile as we pass.
 
“Evening, Parker.”

I really like that name.

Parker gives him a small nod, never letting go of my hand.
 
“Evening.”
 
I can’t help but smile at the word evening.
 
It’s probably close to two in the morning by now.

The elevator doors open and we walk inside.
 
My stomach is doing flips with all the excitement, or maybe it’s nerves.
 
The elevator doors are lined with glass, reflecting our bodies.
 
I swallow slowly as our eyes meet in the mirror.
 
Just like when we first met.
 
His lips turn up into a wicked grin and he winks.

He gives my hand another quick, soft squeeze, and I turn to face him.
 
He’s watching me, smiling.
 
My heart is pounding so loud that I’m afraid it will jump right out of my chest.

“Second thoughts?”

“No,” I reply quickly.
 
Almost too quickly.

He lets out a breath.
 
“Good.”

 
Yup, he’s definitely just as nervous as I am.
 
When we get off the elevator, the hall is lit with gold and bronze sconces.
 
He’s still holding my hand, and all I can think about is how sweaty my palms are. I hope he hasn’t noticed.