Eva and I meet eyes. She grins. I grin.
A beat of warm interest passes between us.
I was exhausted when I got here. But now I feel as alert and alive as Bryce is at 6 a.m. on Saturdays (during the week, I can’t wake her up for the life of me, but on the weekends she rises without fail before the sun). Could be the excellent buzz I have going on. More likely it’s the gorgeous girl in front of me. Her full mouth. Dark eyes. Bare shoulders.
Shoulders I want to sink my teeth into.
“So if we were to go out dancing, where would you take me?”
She grins. Shifts on the stool, her knee pressing more firmly against my thigh. “I have some ideas.”
My dick twitches.
“Let me call my sitter.”
Because if I’m going dancing with Eva, ten o’clock is way too early.Chapter SixFordI offer Hannah everything short of my eternal soul to stay until midnight. Cash. A yacht. A Bahamian island to sail that yacht to.
Luckily she agrees to the cash.
I’m free as a bird. For the next couple hours, at least.
I feel high on life walking down East Bay Street beside Eva, my hand hovering over the small of her back as we navigate our way through the Friday night crowd that packs the uneven sidewalk.
I’m carrying my suit jacket in my other hand, the collar hooked on my first two fingers over my shoulder.
“Finally feels nice out,” Eva says with a sigh. “The way summer should feel.”
She’s right. The summer months can be pretty damn miserable in downtown Charleston. The heat, plus the ever-present humidity, makes the air feel close and stagnant from the end of May through the end of September.
Only at night does the city cool down. Right now the temperature is just above bearable, with a salty breeze coming off the water nearby.
“I’m usually in bed by now, but I have to say it feels really good to be out,” I reply. And I mean it. The warm air, the warmth of the whiskey, of Eva’s body close to mine—makes the world around me seem to swell with possibility.
Freedom.
A half dozen scents fill my head as we walk toward the market. The sting of cigarettes. The savory smell wafting from the kitchens of the restaurants we pass.
Eva’s perfume. She smells so good.
I find myself keeping closer, and then closer still, to inhale it.
She glances at me over her shoulder. “Ford. Are you sniffing me?”
Our faces are inches apart. My eyes move to her mouth.
“Are you going to cancel our dancing date if I say yes?”
“This is a date?”
“Yes.”
“What if I don’t want it to be?”
“Then I change my answer to no. No, it’s not a date. It’s whatever you want it to be.” I meet her eyes. “Take the hint, Eva. I just want to be with you. You’re the one calling the shots here.”
Her expression softens. She looks back down, and my hand collides with her back when she steps aside to let a stroller pass.
Her mostly bare back. My fingers tangling in those lingerie-like straps of her tank top. Thumb finding purchase in the middle of a line of tattooed Neruda.
I wait for one—or both—of us to pull away.
Neither does.
Her skin is soft. So fucking soft in a familiar way. The way your favorite song by your favorite band is familiar. It takes you back to places, times, selves you were that you’ve long since parted with.
Jesus Christ. Three drinks in and I’m already waxing poetic.
I forgot what being around this woman does to me.
“At the shower, you said you were single. But are you dating?” she asks, starting to walk again.
The second part of her question lingers in the space between us. Are you really ready?
“I am,” I reply. “I think a part of me will always mourn Rebecca. And it took me a really long time to even think about putting myself out there again. Four years, to be exact. But over the past six months or so, I’ve started to feel ready. So I’ve done the whole blind date thing, eHarmony and whatever. I’ve had some fun, but nothing too serious. Not that I’m not ready for serious. I just haven’t clicked with anyone yet.” I look at her. Resist the temptation to curl my palm around the nape of her neck, the way I used to do when we were walking around campus. “Are you? Dating?”
She turns her head to look at me. “I am. But like you, I haven’t found anyone who’s clicked. Not in a while, anyway.”
We’re devouring each other again, our gazes locked. The night and the ocean and the people around us falling away.
Look at us, I want to say. Together again. Both lonely and overwhelmed.
Both single.
Imagine that.
The fire in her eyes dims. Replaced by that sadness I’ve glimpsed before.