He had short, black hair in a neatly styled crew cut. Along his temples there were some gray hairs, but so few that I could probably count the strands if I wanted, and on the back of his head he had a small white spot, about the size of a dime. Birthmark, maybe? I’d never seen one like that. You could tell the hair wasn’t gray, just totally white. He had dark scruff along his jaw, but not in a messy, need-to-shave way. Like he took the time for it to look as good as it did, trimmed it daily. He had a thinnish nose and…damn, he kind of looked like a broader Rob Lowe.
I didn’t know exactly why I noticed him—other than the fact that he was gorgeous, but there were a lot of gorgeous guys there. I wasn’t against hooking up with older men. I wasn’t ageist, just never done it before… Not that I would be doing it tonight either, but my dick twitched and my pulse kicked up a notch.
When I looked down, I saw he had a cocktail in front of him that looked full.
“What can I get ya—oh, you’re pretty. You look like you could be a model,” the bartender said to me. He had on a crop top and glitter around his eyes.
“Thanks. You too.” I leaned on the counter with my arms crossed. It made my tee tighten around my chest and arms in a way that the bartender definitely noticed. He was eating me up with his eyes, but he was also at work, which meant I’d have to wait hours for him to get off. Unless he could slip into the bathroom…but I wasn’t really looking for a quick bathroom fuck.
“I’ll have a bottle of Corona,” I said, going for cheap.
“Anything you want, darlin’.” He winked at me, then disappeared.
“You’re smooth,” the man beside me said, a mischievous glint in his hazel eyes. His voice was deep and refined…like honey over a warm biscuit.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
The right side of his mouth quirked up. “I think you do. The way you leaned over and crossed your arms to draw his attention to your body.”
I cocked a brow. “His attention or yours?”
“Both, but you’re a little young for me.”
Well, now I was offended. I’d thought about him being older than me, but I didn’t want to be thought of as too young. It made me want him more…and oh, hello, that more came out of nowhere. Apparently, I was feeling Mr. Honey on a Biscuit. “I’m twenty-four, not a child.”
“I have seventeen years on you.”
So he was forty-one. I’d been close when I’d guessed his age.
“Here you go.” The bartender set my drink in front of me before I could respond. I took the remaining cash out of my pocket, paid, and damn, why in the fuck was a beer so expensive? Especially when I included the tip. “I haven’t seen you here before.”
“I’m around,” I said, not wanting to give too much information about myself. I glanced over and saw my… Shit, I didn’t even know what to call him—my neighbor—watching the exchange.
“Well, if you’re here in a couple of hours when I get off, you should find me,” the bartender said.
“Maybe I’ll do that.”
He gave me a nod, then got back to work.
“Are you going to be around?” Honey on a Biscuit asked.
I shrugged and took a drink. “I don’t know. Maybe. I came to get laid, but I’m hoping it doesn’t take that long.” Look at me, putting it all out there just in case. I totally wanted this guy. He got my balls tingling for some reason. “What about you?”
“I came for a drink. I’m at a hotel right down the street, but their bar was a little…stuffy.”
“Old and stuffy?” I teased.
“You’re not being very nice. I just met you, and you’re calling me old.”
“You called me young,” I countered.
“I said young for me.”
We each took a drink at the same time, watching each other as we did. There was something between us, a spark of attraction I was interested in taking the night to explore.
“Well,” I said, “that’s a shame because I’m very, very good.”
He chuckled. “I have no doubt…” He let the words trail off, clearly hinting for what to call me.
“I probably shouldn’t give you my name. My mom always tells me not to talk to strangers.”
A loud burst of laughter fell from his mouth, rich and addictive. It made me want to do the same.
“Touché.”
“I think I’m too young to know what that means.”
“Are you going to bust my balls all night?” He took another swallow.
“Well, I mean, I’m not usually into that kind of thing. I’d rather do something else with them, but since you’re not interested…” I was laying it on thick but in a playful way. He was fun, and I wanted that—something exciting and different.