3. Amorous Intentions

3

N o matter how hard I tried, I couldn't focus on what Jolene was saying while a hot blonde guy across the bar continued to eye fuck me every time I glanced up, refusing to drop his lascivious gaze from mine.

The dive bar she had chosen was dim and heavy with conversation and laughter. The bartender on my side of the bar flitted back and forth, filling orders and collecting payment, his focus solely on the tasks in front of him. Despite being a random weeknight, the place was full, likely due to a game that was playing on the handful of monitors scattered around the bar. Occasionally an excited or disappointed roar would envelop the space, drawing my admirer's attention from me briefly, before locking back on me once more.

I rarely drank, and the quick buzz and warmth in my cheeks confirmed as much. One of the main reasons I tried not to imbibe was because I tended to become rather amorous with some liquid courage in my system. It had gotten me into trouble in the past, and I had a feeling it might get me into more trouble that night. But would it be the good kind of trouble that ended with me spent and satisfied, or the bad kind with regrets and a hangover?

I had barely taken a sip of my second drink, and was considering what a one-night stand might be like, as I had never been daring enough to try one before. But it had been just long enough since I'd been with anyone, and I'd had just enough to drink that the thought of going home with a stranger, to feel desired, even for a few minutes, felt like it might not be so bad.

I hadn't intended to get a second drink, but Jolene was so entertaining, while regaling me with stories from her time in Florida visiting family, that it had felt like the right thing to do.

"Oh no." Jolene frowned, looking down at her cell phone. The bells attached to the cat's collar on her cardigan jingled as she turned to the bartender to get his attention to close her tab.

"Everything okay?" I tore my attention from my admirer.

Jolene chewed on her lip as she re-read the text.

"Kitty emergency?" I guessed.

Her big brown eyes flitted up to mine, guilt laced in her expression.

"You should go," I gave her permission.

"But I'm your ride." She frowned.

I smiled gently, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze. "I'll get a cab back to campus. It's okay. Go take care of your babies," I encouraged her.

I'd have to put the ride on a credit card to afford it while I waited for the first paycheck of the school year, but I knew she'd only be stressed if she stayed. And I was curious to see where things would lead with the stranger across the bar, so maybe it was better this way.

"If you're sure, I'll close out the tab." She nodded to the bartender as she spoke, signaling for the bill.

"Don't worry about it." I waved a hand at her, sneaking a glance at the mystery man across the bar.

His brow was raised in interest as he watched Jolene hop off the stool and sling her purse over her shoulder.

"Lunch tomorrow?" Jolene asked hopefully.

"I'll bring it to your desk, like usual." I reached out, giving her a firm hug, holding my breath so I didn't suffocate on her cloying perfume, before she hurried out of the bar.

It took the handsome stranger all of two seconds to sidle up next to me. "Can I get you another?" He leaned in, his breath heavy with the scent of whatever brown liquor was in his rocks glass. My stomach turned, the fantasy of a one-night stand dying a quick death.

Why is the thought of men always so tempting, but in reality, it's never quite as I had imagined it would be?

"I'm not sure," my voice wavered as my eyes met his, deep chocolate and hooded with lust.

What were the implications of accepting a drink? I'd typically had unpleasant experiences with things that had initially been presented as gifts or tokens of affection from men, only for them to be turned into something that could be used against me later.

"Another round for…" The man peered down at me, expecting my name.

"Violet," I offered instinctually, wincing slightly at the admission.

"Another round for the lovely Violet," he confirmed.

I turned to call after the bartender, "Can I just get water?" I was unsure if he heard me or not.

"I haven't seen you here before; you live close?" The stranger swirled his glass, his eyes still laser-focused on me. His intensity made me uncomfortable.

"I teach at Montgomery Prep." Even the small amount of alcohol turned me into quite the open book, it would seem.

"There you are," a smooth voice called out, dropping a heavy arm around my shoulder.

I looked up in alarm to meet an unfamiliar pair of striking blue-grey eyes, framed by dark hair.

The new stranger flashed me a brilliant smile, while my brow furrowed. As he dropped his mouth to place a soft kiss at my temple, he whispered, "I think he slipped something in your drink when you were trying to get the bartender's attention."

I felt the breath whoosh out of me.

I was immediately overwhelmed with a barrage of emotions all at once. My stomach roiled with the dark and devastating thoughts of what could have happened to me. I'd been taken advantage of before, by more than one man who I'd thought had loved me and who I had trusted with my life, until I hadn't, but this kind of betrayal stung in quite a different way, deep and sharp.

My eyes connected with the newcomer's once more, my throat bobbing as I swallowed the bile at the back of my throat.

"Thanks for keeping my girl company." He clapped a hand on the blonde's shoulder, a little too roughly, wordlessly communicating for him to fuck off.

The blonde's jaw set, as if he was gauging whether or not to argue, but after a moment, his shoulders dropped. His eyes, no longer tempting, but lethal, dropped to my half-full drink, likely confirming the accusation that had been secretly levied against him.

"Sorry." I shrugged, feigning an apologetic smirk at his poor luck.

Without a word, he stormed off, slamming the bar door behind him.

My rescuer released me, reaching over to dump my drink into the grate at the edge of the bar.

"I don't—I don't know how to thank you," I stuttered, still in shock from the close call. "He would have—"

"It's okay." The stranger was sympathetic, ruffling his hand nervously through his hair. "I'm just glad I saw him."

"Can I, umm, get you a drink?" I managed. "I don't even know your name." He was handsome, devastatingly so, but I inwardly winced at the thought. I had just evaded potentially being assaulted and was already entertaining the idea of being attracted to someone else.

Simultaneously I thought, What is wrong with me? and This is why I have a one drink max.

"I'm good." He held up a bottle of beer, still mostly full.

"Will you sit with me?" I nodded to Jolene's empty stool, my chest still tight with anxiety over the possibility of being drugged by a stranger.

"I don't think he'll come back." The man glanced over his shoulder at the door before sliding onto the barstool.

"Maybe…" I trailed off. I was struck by him. He wore his dark brown hair short, but I could still see a slight wave to it in the dim bar light. He was dressed casually in distressed jeans and a polo shirt, but I couldn't quite get more of a read on him.

"I'm Violet." I stuck my hand out. The situation was so awkward, it was the only thing I could think to do. He had saved me from…god, I needed to stop my mind from wondering about all the awful things that could have transpired.

"Chance." He smiled, returning the handshake.

His skin was soft and warm; his touch had an instant calming effect, so much so that I found myself shaking it for longer than socially acceptable as I got lost in the feel of him. "Sorry." I dropped his hand, feeling my skin heat even more as a full-body blush engulfed me.

My eyes lingered on the lithe muscles of his tanned forearm as he pulled back from the exchange. His shoulders were broad, but his waist tapered, leaving me wondering if perhaps he was an athlete.

His outfit would have me thinking he was a yuppie, but the clientele of the dive bar was decidedly more blue-collar, and most snobby rich guys I knew, and I knew a few, wouldn't have intercepted a spiked drink. They would have watched on, curious to see the event unfolding, perhaps even offering to assist.

There had to be something more to the man before me, who was a growing list of contradictions.

"It's okay," he chuckled, taking a swig of his beer. "Did I overhear that you teach at Montgomery Prep?"

"Yeah." I nodded. "History."

"And how do you like teaching?" Chance leaned his elbow casually against the bar, his attention fully on me and quite overwhelming.

"It's good—I mean, it's not exactly what I thought I'd be doing," I hedged.

He cocked his head. "No? What did you think you'd be doing?"

"Not teaching." I shrugged. "But I have a lot of student loans to pay, so it is what it is."

"How many degrees?" He leaned forward slightly, a curious curve to the corners of his lips.

I could get lost in those lips.

"Three." I took a grateful sip of the water the bartender finally slid over to me.

"Gorgeous and brilliant." Chance smiled. "An excellent combination."

My stomach flipped at the compliment.

"Are you going to tell me what they're in?"

"Classical history, European history, and a masters in ancient history." I took another sip, "Oh, and my teaching certificate."

"What got you into such archaic studies?"

"I probably watched Indiana Jones one too many times as a kid," I replied honestly. "But I can't afford to study or do field work abroad, so I'm here instead."

"If money wasn't an issue, what would you do?"

His ardency continued to crackle under my skin. I was both unnerved and delighted by feeling so drawn to him. I hadn't felt that kind of pull in a very long time…maybe ever, really.

Whatever he asked, I wanted to answer without thinking. "Move to Europe—probably Greece," I clarified. "Write some kind of magnum opus about Euripides or Homer."

"How do you like teaching at Montgomery?" Chance savored a pull from his bottle.

I gave a nervous laugh. "Do you want the professional answer or the real one?"

Chance smirked at me. "I think you know which one, Violet."

The way my name rolled off his tongue was like velvet. I resisted the impulse to shiver.

I shook my head. The magnetic pull toward Chance persisted in its disconcerting splendor, but still I found myself leaning toward him, wetting my lips as I tried not to stare at his.

"It's difficult working there," I finally responded.

"Why?"

"The students are entitled. The faculty are just as elitist. And they cover shit up, which doesn't make for the safest environment. I always feel like I'm one breath away from being discarded." He'd said he wanted the truth.

"What do they cover up?" His tone was more concerned than curious that time.

"A student went missing in May." I probably shouldn't have told him that. "Are you a reporter?" I asked, suddenly fearful.

"No," Chance chuckled, shaking his head. "Your secrets are safe with me." He reached his hand across, giving my knee a reassuring squeeze, the muscles in his forearm flexing with the motion.

And then he let it rest there.

I tried to ignore my heart, hammering in my chest. I didn't think I'd ever wanted to kiss someone so badly in my entire life. He was so handsome and kind, I didn't even care that it was probably only because of the alcohol that the impulse felt so strong.

"What happened to the student?"

"I don't know," I relayed. "He went missing two days before the end of the semester. The police insist he ran away and won't take it seriously."

"Why not?"

"Daniel was a scholarship kid, not like most of the super rich kids who go to Montgomery. They want it to go away, I think. Don't want to spook parents or donors. But I had him in one of my classes, and he wasn't the kind of kid to take off like that." I took another sip of my water, feeling the weight of his disappearance so very heavily in that moment.

Chance was the first person I'd talked to about it who seemed to be taking me seriously, or even cared about it at all. Maybe I should have gone to the media, but I had so much to lose.

"So you knew him?" Chance asked.

"He worked on the school newspaper. It's a small school. Everyone knew him." I shook my head. "He wouldn't have run away. He knew how lucky he was to be there and what kind of opportunities would come out of the alumni network."

"Hmm," Chance hummed.

"And the headmaster, don't get me started. If he didn't have to allow scholarship students in through alumni gifted grants, he'd be happy to keep the doors closed to anyone in a tax bracket under a billion dollars." I snorted.

"Sounds like an asshole."

"And a misogynist," I added.

"Typical," Chance offered. "Are the students really that bad?" he asked after a moment. "They can't exactly control the circumstances into which they were born." Chance winced, realizing how it sounded as it left his mouth.

"But they can control how they treat people—that's the difference," I asserted.

"Cheers to that." He lifted his almost empty bottle, draining the last of the beer after clinking it against my almost empty water glass.

"I should probably head back there." Reluctance was laced through the sentiment as I pulled out my phone, opening a rideshare app.

"Of course." He flashed me another brilliant but understanding smile.

I looked down at the app, sighing at what I was seeing. No cars available.

I bit my lip nervously.

Chance glanced down at the screen.

"I can give you a ride to Montgomery," he offered. "I'm heading that way anyway."

"You are? You're sure?" I met his eyes again. "You've already done more than enough for me—I don't want to inconvenience you."

While I would have felt bad if he had to go out of his way for me, I couldn't ignore the warmth flooding my core at the thought of spending more time with him, in confined quarters.

"It's no problem, I promise." He grabbed my hand and led me out of the bar.