Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Plus, I was craving a Mai Tai.
Even though it had been several months since the breakup, I still heard Richard’s voice in my ear. Maybe you should get a vodka soda instead. Those Mai Tai’s are going to cost you another hour in the gym tomorrow.
I gritted my teeth, trying to force my ex’s voice out of my head as I made my way outside and back down the stairs. Fuck it. I was getting a Mai Tai, I decided, in part because Richard wasn’t here—wasn’t even in my life anymore—which meant I could do whatever I wanted. And what I wanted was a Mai Tai. I was on the Cape for god’s sake. And what the hell did I care if I was carrying a few extra pounds of weight around my middle these days? Some people starved themselves through a breakup, and others spent too much time at Zabar’s. It was fine. Even though I was here for work, I still hoped to sneak a little time on the beach to at least put some color back into my skin from a long, cold winter.
I reached the gravel lot and circled around to the front of the bar. The place was very old Cape Cod. Weathered boards from the exterior gave way to a similarly weather-beaten look inside. Old painted wooden buoys hung from rough hemp rope on the walls, neon beer signs dotted the front windows, framed black-and-white photos of fishing boats and proud fishermen holding record catches held place of pride behind the bar, and a few of the barstools had old wooden ship wheels as their backs as if that had been a theme of the place at one point.
The bar was crowded—more so than I’d expected from how sleepy the town had appeared on the drive in. But it was a Friday night, and maybe this place was the only nightlife option in town. There was an open stool at the far end, and I slid into it, wedging myself between the wall and a pack of older men in matching softball shirts laughing and giving each other hell about a game they’d played earlier that evening.
I leaned forward, searching out the bartender, and sucked in a breath when he came into view. I’d expected to find some old grizzled fisherman type behind the bar, but instead I found a much younger man. Correction, a much younger, sexy as hell man. He had a wide, dimpled grin and dirty-blond hair flipping out from underneath a well-worn Red Sox cap. His tanned, muscular forearms flashed as he moved between pouring draft beers and reaching out for people’s credit cards.
Well, hell. I hadn’t expected to get that little weirdness in my gut from seeing an attractive man. And yet, there I was, stomach twisting and pulse hammering. It had been a while since my interest had been piqued. Even before Richard and I had broken up, things hadn’t exactly been on fire in the bedroom for months. It was good to know I wasn’t dead.
The kid glanced my way and gave a quick nod to indicate he’d seen me and would be down to take my order next. It gave me just enough time to get myself under control so that I wouldn’t make a fool out of myself ogling him. Which was important because I wasn’t here to check out sexy young men, I was here for work.
Though it occurred to me that perhaps I could mix the two together a little. After all, pressing this kid for information about McBride and the old Sea Sprite Inn property might net me some information that could help in the negotiations tomorrow.
“What’ll you have?” he asked with eyes flashing. He’d just finished laughing at something his previous customer had said.
“Mai Tai,” I said automatically, wincing a little at the frivolous order. I glanced down the bar. Most folks were drinking draft beer or basic mixed drinks. There wasn’t an umbrella or pineapple garnish among them. For a second I wondered if I should have ordered something more manly, but then, of course, I had to stop and lecture myself about internalized sexism.
“You sure?” There was a note of hesitation in his voice.
I blinked up at him, ready to defend my drink order now that I was properly re-feminist-ed. But his furrowed brows weren’t teasing. They were concerned.
I frowned. “Yes. Very sure. Why?”
“Your face did a whole thing just now, like…” He paused and then shook his head. “Never mind,” he said, clearly deciding not to pursue the line of thought. “One Mai Tai coming right up.” His easy grin reappeared as he turned to make the drink.
I couldn’t help but watch. After all, he was standing right in front of me. Despite the summer weather, he wore blue jeans that were clearly in love with him. They hugged him close and caressed every damned inch of his long legs and tight ass. It was impossible not to notice the way the muscles of his butt moved underneath that soft denim.