I groan and stand, running my hand through my hair with embarrassment. “You should. I’m pathetic. And horribly inappropriate.”
“You’re not pathetic, and it’s too soon for me to tell how inappropriate you really are.” She smiles and waggles her eyebrows mischievously at me. “If you knew the dirty thoughts that run through my mind every day, you’d know I’m certainly no victim.”
“I knew it!” I laugh and snap my fingers in triumph, reaching out and stretching my arms out wide. “There’s something about you that screams…dirty mind. I think it’s your red hair.”
She bites her lip and eyes my torso, her gaze slowly falling to my groin area. My dick does a jump. More like a thump considering the fucker has its own pulse right now.
With a simple shrug, she replies, “I blame a lot of my problems on the color of my hair. Redheads have it rough as kids.”
“Your hair is fucking gorgeous, and little kids are pricks.” I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose, grateful no one else is around to hear me make a damn fool of myself right now. “On that note, I’m going to go, and I swear to you that I usually have way more game than this. I hope this interaction doesn’t negatively reflect on my book boyfriend status in your mind.”
She laughs heartily. “Don’t worry about it, Miles. Your book boyfriend status is still very much secure.”
With a big smile, I turn and head out, calling over my shoulder, “See you Monday, Mercedes.”
“See you around the coffee machine, Miles.”
“What are you fucking waiting for, bro? She tells you she has dirty thoughts and you don’t think…‘yep, I’m gonna tap that’?” Sam shouts, slamming his beer down on the bar and running a hand over his blond buzz cut.
“Nah.” I shake my head adamantly and shoot a dirty look at the dude pressing up against me to order a drink. It’s Friday night, so The Pearl Street Pub is packed, but that doesn’t mean I need to be able to smell this guy’s deodorant. The dude smartly takes a hint and gives me some space. I turn back to Sam. “I can’t tap that, she’s too cool. Then I’d have to see her every day in the comfort center. It’d be awkward as fuck.”
“You wouldn’t have to see her. Just don’t go in there anymore after you bang her. Problem solved.”
“I like seeing her,” I reply and frown over the fact that seeing her is one of the best parts of my days.
“You’re so lame,” Sam says, pulling his phone out of his pocket and checking the time. “Shit, we’d better get going. My buddy goes live at eleven, and I don’t want to end up stuck in a line.”
We pay our tabs and walk the two blocks down Pearl Street to The Walrus Saloon. It’s a dive bar that’s partially underground and usually swarming with college students, but since it’s summertime, it shouldn’t be too bad. Plus, I’m single. It’s good for me to hit the meat market venues on occasion.
I don’t necessarily dig younger chicks, but I’m guilty of taking home a college girl once last year. I could tell she was a lot younger than me, and I was so fucking paranoid that I asked to see her ID before we left the bar. I’m not proud, but I needed someone to help get over the final breakup of many with Jocelyn.
That girl fucked me up.
Ten years of ‘will they or won’t they?’ We were worse than Ross and Rachel. And the mind games she played will stay with me permanently, I’m sure. Whenever we were broken up, which was a lot, she would find out what bar I was at that night and show up just to make out with a random dude right in front of me. She was fucking nuts. I’d probably still be living that sweet hell if she didn’t get knocked up by some rich prick during our last “break.”
After some dark days, I’m in what I like to call my ‘bang and bail’ period. One night. No repeats. No strings. Time to add some long-neglected notches on my bedpost.
Tonight, I’m looking forward to finding a girl who will help take my mind off the redhead I know I shouldn’t bang.
The music is loud as we make our way down the stairs to the Walrus Saloon. It’s got a dark, grungy feel to it, but it’s the only place in Boulder that offers any kind of real dance floor. My boots crack on the peanut shells scattered all over as Sam and I head to the two newly vacated stools at the end of the bar.
Sam works on flagging down a bartender while I stand behind my stool and do a sweep of the bar. It’s mostly dudes except for a big group of girls hoarding most of the dance floor already. They are all surrounding a girl in a little white dress with a veil tucked into her hair. Bachelorette parties are usually a good time, and I tip my chin to a couple of girls who are eyeing me and whispering to each other. Being big and tall is always a draw for the ladies. And the fact that I’m not ugly makes it pretty easy to take my pick of a group like that.
I pass over another group of girls collectively sucking blue liquid out of a giant fishbowl-sized drink and think I see one that might interest me when a familiar shock of red catches my eye.
I swivel my gaze to see Mercedes walking down the entrance steps. She’s laughing hard at something someone behind her said, but to be honest, I’m not looking at her face for very long.
She’s dressed in a skimpy black and white striped skirt, her sculpted legs on full display and looking even sexier than the time I saw them in those Daisy Dukes. She has a low-cut black tank top on with a long pendant necklace hanging right between her full breasts. I’d be concerned she wasn’t wearing enough clothes if it weren’t for the sexy, tight black leather jacket unzipped and layered over the top of the ensemble. At least that covers some of her body.
Her red hair is straight and shiny over her shoulders, like a curtain of color, and styled in a way I’ve never seen before. It’s a lot less natural than usual but definitely still sexy. This is a far different look from what I see at Tire Depot.
She’s a fucking knockout.
My dick roars to life between my legs, and I have to close my eyes and concentrate, so it doesn’t get a mind of its own and say hello to the crowd. Dicks can be such…dicks.
She turns her head and smiles at the guy who follows her down the steps. Draping his arm around her shoulders, he’s wearing glasses and dressed like he’s headed to a fucking wedding, not a dive bar on Pearl Street. A small brunette flanks her other side and is digging in her purse to pay the cover charge to the bouncers.
Mercedes laughs again at something the glasses dude says. Her smiling eyes begin to peruse the bar and finally land on me. I tower over pretty much everyone here, so it’s no surprise she spotted me. But the look on her face isn’t the easy smile I’ve grown used to seeing this past week.
She pulls her lip into her mouth and snaps her head to the guy who’s suddenly tightened his grip around her shoulders. He leans down so she can whisper in his ear and my eyes follow his other hand as it cups her hip. His thumb is dangerously close to the underside of her breast, and the familiarity of their embrace has my blood running hot.
What. The. Fuck?
“Jesus man, what’s up? You look like you’re ready to rip someone’s head off!” Sam says from beside me as he shoves a beer into my chest.
“What?” I nearly growl, wrapping my fingers firmly around the cold bottle.
“What’s going on? You look like…” His voice trails off as he sees where my steely gaze is focused. “Is that the same redhead?”
I nod, my jaw tight.
“I thought you were just friends with the girl.”
“I am,” I snap, sneering down at him.
“Well, then fucking cool it, bro, because you look like you’re itching for a fight.” He stands up off his stool and tips his chin up to rumble into my ear. “You look how you used to when Joce was fucking around.”
His words are like a bucket of ice water tossed in my face. I instantly sag against his hand clasping my shoulder and turn away to take a big gulp of my beer. Exhaling heavily, I hunch over and prop my elbows on the bar, running a hand through my hair.
Fucking hell, what’s wrong with me? I barely know Mercedes. I’ve only seen her outside the shop once. That doesn’t mean I can go all beast mode on her when I see her with another guy.