Chapter Four

Bec

The Wedding

I still have a few hours to kill before the other girls make it to the hotel. This is what I get for volunteering to decorate for Ellie’s bachelorette party tonight. I have to admit, I killed it. I went balls to the walls, or rather, dicks to the bricks, dutifully hanging paper penises all over the suite. When you’ve known Ellie as long as I have, it’s basically required that I go overboard here.

Ellie and the rest of the girls will arrive soon, presumably loaded up with even more gaudy décor, sashes, and supplies for her single-life send-off. Until then, here I am, killing time at the hotel bar alone. At least I know in a few hours, I’ll be pleasantly tipsy and heavily tipping a hot stripper.

I sip on my Moscow mule, mindlessly skimming through my phone, when I feel someone approach. I could go the rest of my life without awkward small talk at a hotel bar, but here we are. As if he can hear my thoughts, he asks, “Sorry, do you mind if I sit here? The place is pretty packed, and I don’t see any other seats.”

I look over and warm brown eyes lock with mine. I can’t seem to remember how to find my words. Shit, this guy is hot. Tousled dark brown hair effortlessly achieving that imperfectly perfect look. He towers over me as he stands behind the bar stool next to me. His shoulders are broad, and his stance is casual, confident. The trimmed stubble on his strong jaw gives him a gruff edge that I inexplicably want to run my fingers along.

Down, girl.

“Uh, yeah. Sure. Go ahead,” I say.

He mutters out a thank-you and orders a bourbon neat from the bartender, who basically trips over herself to talk to him. Understandable.

I turn back to my phone and say a silent prayer that my whole face isn’t red from our three second interaction. God, this dry spell of mine needs to end. I need to find a man this weekend and have some uncomplicated, no-strings-attached fun. Preferably with a man that gives my lady bits butterflies just like this.

A couple burst into laughter on the other end of the bar, and I involuntarily look up to see them cackling, seemingly tangled up and soon to be even more so. At least someone is getting lucky tonight.

“What’s the punchline?” my hot, bar neighbor asks. At least, I think he’s asking me. I turn to see him watching me intently.

“Excuse me?” I barely manage to whisper, but he must hear me.

“What do you think the punchline is?” He lifts his head, nodding to the couple who is still hysterically laughing. “It’s a game I like to play. See an interaction, ask a question, use your imagination to fill in the blanks.”

I stare at him, confused, not understanding why he’s talking to me. He isn’t deterred. “I’ll go first,” he says. “Those two are here for their twenty-year high school reunion. Never managed to make it past the friend stage as teenagers, yet here they are, single and finally ready to take the leap. They’re laughing as they reminisce about their most embarrassing stories from their senior prom. You know, the awkward bumping and grinding, and fumbling make-out sessions getting broken up by grumbling chaperones.” He smiles crookedly, softening his appearance. “Your turn. You pick the customers, and I’ll pick the question.”

I can’t help but smile back. “Okay, um, the two women by the door.”

He sips his drink and I watch his lips with blatant interest. What’s the harm, right? I’m here for a fun weekend, and he is clearly too hot to hang onto for longer than that. He hums thoughtfully and gives me an obvious once-over in return. “All right, do they have any tattoos?” he asks.

Now this, I can do. Will I come across as original and intriguing or weird and terrifying? Only time will tell. “They both do. The taller girl has a lioness on her shoulder. She’s strutting around with obvious Leo energy. Fierce, creative, confident. Now her friend is giving me more earthy vibes. Practical, grounded. She has a tree for each season down her spine. And of course, they have matching best friend tattoos that they drunkenly got together in college. They thought it’d be hilarious to get each other’s handprint on their ass. It signifies endless ass slaps of encouragement. A permanent go get ’em, girl , if you will.”

I hold his stare as his eyes flit back and forth between my own, and he finally chuckles. “Well, shit, you’re good at this. What about you, any tattoos?”

I shrug, taking another sip of my drink. “Afraid I can’t answer that. Tattoos are way too personal. I don’t give away my secrets so easily.” I giggle at his bemused expression.

“Fair enough. I think I may have met my match here, but just to be sure…” He scans the crowd in the bar. “Okay, the two men in suits in front of the far window.”

I light up, his enthusiasm is magnetic. “What was their last fight about?”

He doesn’t miss a beat, immediately diving into an animated explanation. “What kind of pet to adopt. Blue Suit is clearly a cat person and Black Suit is a dog person. Obviously, the dog person will win, and they’ll end up getting a dog now and a cat later on, who will hate that dog.”

“Woah, woah, pump the brakes. How do you know he’s a dog person, and why does that mean he will obviously win? ”

He rolls his eyes playfully as if I should already know, like it’s common knowledge or something. “You can tell he’s a dog person by his energy and affection. He wears it on his sleeve. His partner is the complete opposite, playing it cool, stoic. They’ll end up with the dog because dog people are impulsive and ruled by emotions, big bleeding hearts. Mr. Black Suit over there will see one sad pet-rescue commercial then claim he accidentally wandered into a shelter and had to bring home a senior dog with no bladder control and five expensive monthly medications. A cat person will be more methodical and sensible. Poor Blue Suit will have to wait a while longer to find the perfect cat who will inevitably train the dog to stay ten feet away with its hiss and sharp claws.”

I nod, biting my lips trying to contain my amusement as I consider the ridiculous assumptions he’s making. “Hm…and what about me, am I a dog person or a cat person?”

He scoffs, not taking any time to consider the question. “Dog,” he says. “It’s written all over you. Playful, trusting, outgoing, bubbly, uninhibited, loyal. If you were a cat person, you probably would have told me to fuck off when I first walked over.”

“You think you’ve got me figured out after five minutes of conversation?”

“I’m right, aren’t I?” He winks and takes a sip of his drink, and dammit, my body likes that way too much.

I break eye contact and shrug, taking a long pull from my straw. “Maybe. I’m going to guess you love cats. You give off this tough exterior but are secretly all mush on the inside. Hiding your sensitive side that just wants to curl up and cuddle, masking all your vulnerabilities behind a broody, mysterious exterior.”

“I like to think I can occasionally be cat-presenting, but I’m a dog person through and through. I need the validation only a dog can give. That happy go lucky, leans in when you do–type affection.” His expression turns diabolical. “I can’t help the vibe I give off. But I haven’t gotten any complaints yet on my cuddling skills.” He raises an eyebrow at me and doesn’t break eye contact while he finishes his drink. He places his empty tumbler on the bar and I watch his gaze roam from my eyes to my mouth, all the way down to my cleavage with interest.

Well, shit. That’ll do it. My lady bits are awake and reporting for duty. Maybe he could be my weekend fling. I didn’t RSVP for a plus one to the wedding on Saturday, but if we’re both staying in the same hotel, maybe we could…

“Your turn to pick.” His voice brings me back to the present moment. Right, maybe I should continue with this not-so-normal small talk rather than proposition a complete stranger.

“Okay, uh, that couple, booth near the hall.”

He glances over to the couple and turns back to me. Trouble written all over his face. “What’s their kink?”

“Excuse me?” I half shriek, choking on my drink.

“You heard me, what’s their kink?”

“Um…” I can feel myself blushing. He waits, seemingly amused at how flustered I am. “Okay, well, I’m going to go with exhibitionists. Same siders in a booth? Undoubtedly, they’re into some serious PDA.”

“Interesting.” His attentive stare has me melting. My body is frozen in place and simultaneously burning from the inside out. The contrast is exhilarating, and I feel like every nerve ending is coming alive. “Aren’t you going to ask me? What’s my kink?”

I exhale in a nervous laugh. “I don’t even know your name. I don’t typically go around asking strangers how they spend their time in the bedroom.”

“I’m Aiden. And I’m thinking my newest kink is flirting with a certain gorgeous brunette with quick wit at this hotel bar.”

He’s into me, I’m going for it. What the hell. “I’m Bec, and I’m here until Sunday.”

“Well, that’s some good luck for me. I check out on Sunday too.”

Game on, Aiden.