Page 18 of Hooked

I need to let him know that you can be a gentleman and still look.

Sometimes it’s ungentlemanlynotto look.

In fact, I’d say that was the case here from Kristi’s perspective. She’s too practical to wear a halter top in the middle of winter without that specific goal in mind.

There are two empty seats next to her, and I’m about to sit at the one directly beside her when she waves me off.

“Someone’s there. She’s in the bathroom,” she says, pointing to the other seat.

Great. She’s brought a friend. This way I can stay for an hour and leave, and she won’t be alone. Kristi can handle herself, but there are a lot of lonely, desperate guys on the Vineyard, some of whom are on pretty serious substances. I’d feel uncomfortable leaving her alone since I’d initiated the outing.

Unintentionally, but still.

And frankly I’ve never seen Sven in a fight. My money’s on Kristi protecting him rather than the other way around.

I order a Jack and Coke from Sven. The whiskey here is garbage, so it’s a waste of money to get anything better. Just as he places my drink in front of me, I see her walking over from the bathroom.

Kristi grins wickedly and I regret my former chivalrous feelings.

Sia looks fucking hot. There’s just no other way to say it. I don’t make a habit of using the word fuck. It’d been used against me in anger so often that it lost any meaning, but in this moment I understand it again.

She’s wearing a tight black sweater dress that hugs her luscious curves, stopping mid-thigh. Her high-heeled boots come up over her knees, and her long auburn hair is tossed into a messy bun, with curls framing her face. That hair would look wild and amazing after it’d been messed up from hot, up against the wall sex.

It’s been way too long since I’ve been with a woman. Sex always leads to expectations of a relationship I’m not interested in.

Looking at Sia reminds of why that risk might be worth taking.

She freezes when she sees me. If she had any idea what I’m imagining, she’d probably slap me. I’d deserve it. Every man in the bar gawks at her. I’ve never wanted to get into a fight as badly as I do now.

Punch every one of those drooling assholes out.

Of course, I’m one of those drooling assholes. I come to my senses and shift my legs so she can slip into the seat.

She looks at me, her head tilted thoughtfully, and then turns to Kristi. She has a little ceramic barrette painted to look like holly clipped in her hair.

“Is there an ugly sweater contest tonight?” she asks, eagerly. “I didn’t know they have those here. I’ve hosted a couple of parties that had them.”

Wait. Is she talking about me?

I look at my sweater. It came from Goodwill a few years ago. It’s green with gold stripes, with a pine tree sewn into the center. I thought it looked like a rugby shirt.

Kristi’s laugh is loud and barking. “Oh my god, Sia. No. And if there were, would Vinny participate?”

She turns to me and places a hand over her mouth. Her knuckles still look pretty rough.

“Oh no,” she says, from behind her fingers. Those blue eyes are wide with horror. “I’m so sorry, Vinny. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

Which says something about her manners, because I’ve been pretty rude to her.

She touches my shoulder. Her hand is small and slender, but the heat I feel through my apparently ugly sweater is intense.

“It’s fine,” I say. She takes her hand away. Wish she hadn’t so soon. “I’m not known for my keen fashion sense.”

Her head tilts down in embarrassment, but she flicks her eyes up at me, and it goes right to my dick again. Goddamnit.

“I don’t know,” she says. “The flannel look works for you.”

And this sweater dress look really and truly works for her, but I can’t have an erection right now. I refuse. Not in the Dockside.

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