Dad Bod (Under Construction 1)

The bartenders are slingin’ drinks as quick as they can make them, and you’ll only get spit in your beer if you’re rude or rush them. I’ve got enough madness swirlin’ around in the noggin’ to k

eep me busy ’til another drink is placed before me, and I’ve got all fuckin’ night to wait.

For the first time in two years, I’m out drinkin’. Since taking custody of Belle, my sole focus has been raisin’ her. Sure, I’d nurse a beer at a cookout or when me and the guys would play poker, but only if I’d planned for Belle to stay with Laney or Momma.

Finally, the bartender makes her way toward us, and I wave two fingers in her direction. She places the beers on the counter and continues on her loop around to the other patrons.

Carter swats at my shoulder, and I turn on my stool, following the direction of where he’s pointin’ with his bottle. “Know her?”

My spine stiffens, ramrod straight as I lock eyes with a beautiful brunette. She winks and tips her shot glass in my direction, a silent moment passing between us.

“Can’t say I do.” I focus on Carter, unsure if I’m interested or not.

“Fuck, Mad. You gotta get your head straight. How many dates were a bust?”

I scoff, dismissing him with a wave of the hand.

“You got someone holdin’ ya back, Mad?” I ignore him. “That pass at Jo get you anywhere?”

“Fuck off, Carter.”

“Hey, you?” a bubbly voice from my side catches my attention. I turn to find the woman Carter pointed to standing beside me. “Mind if I join y’all?” She looks at the occupied stools around us and attempts to squeeze in between Carter and me.

“By all means,” Carter says, climbing off his stool and sliding his phone in his pocket.

“Where the hell you goin’?”

“Warden just called. Pipe’s busted under the sink in the bathroom.”

My head ain’t on right tonight. Maybe it’s the beer. Maybe it’s annoyance. Or maybe it’s the fact that a woman has approached me at the bar, and my nerves are full throttle now. So my response to Carter’s problem is dumb as hell. “Why didn’t she call a plumber?”

Carter laughs. “Asking questions like that will put you out of business.” He tosses a fifty-dollar-bill down on the bar. “Drinks are on me tonight.” He claps a hand on my shoulder and turns to my newfound friend. “Take it easy on this asshole, ‘k, sugar.”

She grins like the Cheshire Cat, her eyes dark in mischievous slits. “Mmm, I do love a good ol’ Southern boy and all that charm.”

Carter shakes his head as he leaves the Skybox, leavin’ me alone with … erhm. “I didn’t catch your name.”

She offers her hand in an eloquent gesture, and I accept it, her skin soft against the rough callouses of my hand. “Sawyer.”

“Madden.”

“Hmm… Your hands are awfully rough, so I know you’re a workin’ man. What do you do, Madden?”

“Construction. And you?”

“I’m more of a free spirit with many talents.” Alrighty then. I have no fuckin’ clue what that means. Is she a ventriloquist, a hooker? Who the fuck knows? Her smile is wicked as she rolls her lips between her teeth and applies pressure. It’s sexy as fuck and a clear indication she likes pain.

But she’s interestin’ enough, and the conversation is light and easygoin’. The bartender loops around to us, and I offer to buy her a drink on Carter’s dime. “What’s your poison, sweetheart?”

“Between the Sheets,” she tells the bartender. She turns to me and grips my thigh. “And that’s an open invitation.”

Did …

Wait just a fuckin’ minute here, y’all.

I heard that right, right? That wasn’t the alcohol-induced cloud in my brain makin’ me hear shit?

The bartender places the drink in front of Sawyer, and she nods in appreciation. Sawyer pulls the cherry from the glass and makes a show of sucking it between her luscious lips before flipping it back onto her tongue. Trying hard—fuck—not to watch, I pull my beer back and avert my gaze to the TV, fuckin’ Nash Walters’ face reminding me of all the bullshit I’ve sulked about tonight.