I don’t understand.
Maybe she has chemistry like that with every guy she meets, but it’s rare for me. Really rare, and I want to explore it.
Still, the lady said no, and unless I want to turn into some testosterone crazed stalker (I really don’t) it’s not like I’ve got a choice but to accept her wishes.
Still, her refusal rankles as I make my way back to the bar. I’ve got a vague notion of spending the next hour watching her, maybe seeing if some more bar flirting—from an acceptable distance—might change her mind. But I’ve barely sat down next to Clay when I see Sage making a beeline for the door at what can only be described as a jog.
We had mind-blowing sex, and now she’s so anxious to get away from me that she’s actually running?
I’d be lying if I said that didn’t sting. A lot.
“Hey, where’ve you been, man?” Clay asks as I settle down beside him.
I’m too busy watching Sage’s exit to answer.
Clay leans around me to get a look at what’s holding my attention. “Hey, isn’t that the girl you sent the old-fashioneds to?”
I’ve got to hand it to the man. Nothing gets by him.
“Yeah, that’s her.”
“Guess she didn’t like the drinks. You should have bought her a chocolate martini like I suggested.”
What I should have done is stuck to the original plan. The one where I wait for the woman to make the first move.
Sure, I wouldn’t have just had incredible sex in the back hallway of this bar. But I also wouldn’t have this gnawing, nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach like something great just slipped through my fingers…
Chapter 5
Sage
What did I do? Oh my God, what did I just do? My mind is racing as I fumble my keys out of my purse. I try to press the unlock button on the key fob, but my hands are shaking so badly that all I end up doing is dropping them onto the asphalt of the parking lot.
Shit.
&
nbsp; I swoop down and grab them while looking over my shoulder for Shawn. I’m terrified he’s going to follow me. Not in a creepy stalker, I-won’t-let-you-reject-me way, but in a hey-I-had-a-good-time-are-you-sure-you-won’t-take-my-number way.
Which might be fine for somebody else, because I had a good time, too. An amazing time. An incredible time. And Shawn is a sweet, generous, hot as fuck guy. But there’s no way I can take his number and no way in hell that I can give him mine. Not when he’ll expect to take out the same woman he just met in that hallway and that is so not me.
I finally manage to get my car door open and my ass planted in the driver’s seat. With one last glance toward the front door of the bar—which is still mercifully empty—I get my car started. Then I all but peel out of the parking lot in an effort to get away from Shawn. And from what I just did.
I don’t look back and I don’t stop until a red light on Prospect forces me to several minutes later. Closing my eyes, I rest my head against the back of the seat and wonder, again, what the hell did I just do?
I don’t have one-night stands with men.
I don’t even have one-week stands with men.
And I sure as hell don’t screw guys in the back hallway of a bar.
So what the hell just happened?
That third lemon drop martini is what happened, I try to tell myself as the light turns green. I have a two-drink limit, and obviously that stupid drink pushed me right over the edge from sane behavior into insanity. The fact that it was an hour after I had that drink before I even spoke to him doesn’t matter. I was obviously insane.
Except it didn’t feel insane while it was happening, a little voice deep inside me whispers so quietly that I can almost ignore it. Almost.
It felt good. More, it felt right, like I hadn’t just met Shawn.