Page 102 of The Other Guy

Jack orders a beer and I do the same.

“With an orange wedge,” he adds and winks at me.

For some reason that makes my stomach warm. He remembered that from the first night we met.

“You got it.”

“Thanks. And where do we put our names in for the bull?”

He points to the corner. “Right over there. Do it now, though. It fills up pretty quickly.”

“Great. Will do.”

After he leaves, I turn to Jack. “You’re not going to let me outta here without trying it, are you?”

“If you really don’t want to, I won’t make you. But I think you’d have fun.”

“I’ll make a fool of myself.”

“So? When will you see these people again? We drove an hour to get here, remember?”

“True,” I say, chewing on my lip.

“Besides, making a fool of yourself isn’t a bad thing. That means that you don’t take life too seriously.”

“Fine. I’ll do it.”

He throws a fist in the air. “Yes! You’ll have fun. I promise. Or, at least, you’ll have fun looking back at it.”

“Oh, great,” I say and roll my eyes.

“Be right back. I’m going to go put our names down.”

“Okay.”

I watch him walk away and people watch. Couples and groups of friends, a bachelorette party that looks like they’re three sheets to the wind but having a great time. I hope they get on the bull. Even never seeing someone ride it, I know watching a person drunk off her ass on there would be hilarious.

Our waiter delivers our beers and I thank him, digging a ten out of my wallet and handing it to him. “Keep the change.”

“Thanks. I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.”

Jack returns just as he leaves and glares at me. “I was going to pay.”

“I can buy a round of drinks, Jack.”

“I know that, Sierra, but that doesn’t mean you should have to. I invited you out tonight.”

“And I accepted because I wanted to go on a date with you. It’s ten bucks. I think you can let this one slide,” I tease, gripping his shirt to pull him close and kissing him on the lips.

Apparently that’s the trick that works to ease him out of a grumpy mood because he deepens the kiss, swiping his tongue against mine and leaning in close, one hand on the back of my seat and the other around my waist. His moan vibrates through my chest and I wrap my arm around his neck, tilting my head to get a better angle. His teeth nip and bite and his tongue twists and swipes and I wonder where this man has been all my life. Why I was so insistent on never having passion in a relationship because my gosh, even kissing him turns me inside out. The noise of the bar fades away and I sway toward him, almost falling out of my seat.

When he pulls away much too soon, but probably smart considering I was seconds away from jumping out of my chair and wrapping my legs around his waist and clinging on tight, I notice a few people make catcalls. Normally, that would embarrass me but right now it doesn’t. I lift my fingertips to my lips, certain I’ll be able to feel them tingling. “Holy moly,” I whisper.

He’s so close I can feel his breath when he says, “Yeah.”

“If nothing else works, we know that sure does.”

“Damn straight.”

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