Page 9 of Branded

“He is very attractive, you know,” she says, before sinking her teeth very loudly into another carrot with ranch dotted on the end.

“I do have eyes. It would be pretty hard to deny he is a very attractive man.”

“And judging by the smile on your face and the smile on his, I have to assume he finds you equally as attractive.”

“He’s just being polite.” I wave her off.

“Oh, please. Mr. Jordan holding the door open for us every morning is being polite. Isaac Black is more than polite. He’s laying the groundwork to show you how good he is with his big hose, if you catch my drift.” She holds up her hands, showing me what ten inches could look like.

“Oh my God. What is wrong with you?” I toss a napkin at her.

“I’m brutally honest and you love me.” She puckers her lips. “I gotta be honest, Sawyer, you’ve been here almost a year and you haven’t dated anyone at all. You need to get out there a bit. Have some fun.”

“He’s a firefighter,” I say plainly, to which she sighs heavily.

“I know, I know. You don’t date firefighters.”

“You know why, Liv. It’s too close. It brings back too many bad memories, and those memories aren’t worth a roll in the sack with—”

“A roll in the sack with a six foot three inch, Adonis-like god, who looks like he could dish out orgasms like he was born and bred for it?” she interrupts.

“Why don’t you date him then?” I cross my arms over my chest.

“Nah. He’s clearly super into you.” She shakes her head. “Plus, I prefer mine a bit more rough around the edges. I want to be kind of afraid of them, if you know what I mean.”

I roll my eyes and laugh. “I know what you mean.”

In any other circumstance, I might look at Isaac and jump at the opportunity to date him, or hell, even just sleep with him, but there is a big glaring thing standing in the way… well… two things.

“He hasn’t even expressed clear interest at all, so I think we are getting a bit ahead of ourselves, aren’t we?” I begin to gather up my trash after glancing at the clock.

“Now you’re just making excuses. No one is saying you need to marry the guy. Just don’t say no before you’ve even considered it.”

“I don’t date firemen, Liv.”

“Yeah, yeah. You keep saying that.”

Isaac

There is nothing better than coming off a twenty-four-hour shift, going home, sleeping like the dead for twelve hours then strolling into the bar, having a couple beers with good friends.

Vin’s Bar is just on the outskirts of Sunset Valley, and we’ve been coming here since before we were even old enough to drink. Vin caught us trying to get in with fake IDs, let us in, then served us alcohol-free beer, all the while letting the placebo effect take over then promptly embarrassing the shit out of us. After that, Vin’s became our spot, of sorts. He always let us in and put us at the back table, mostly away from the hustle and bustle of business. I think he wanted to keep us out of trouble, and if we were coming here, he could keep an eye out like a pseudo grandfather.

It’s a small bar, with only dozen tables and bar seating, and dark, hunter green walls. The ceiling is shiny copper with imperfections, dents, and dings. Classic rock croons from the jukebox at the far corner by our table, and my friend, Finn, holds his beer in the air when he catches sight of me. The smell of cheap beer and bar food wafts through the air. I love everything about it.

“There he is. Come on over, princess. Your alcohol is waiting.”

“You’re lucky you’re like my family, you dick,” I say, as I toss my jacket on the back of the chair at the corner table we always occupy when we are here.

“Like your family? I’m offended. I am your family. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have put up with your shit for years.”

Finn has been my best friend for as long as I can remember. We met in kindergarten, on the playground, and over time, he has become like the brother I never had, and made being an only child not so tough.

“Where is Caleb?” I lift the bottle of beer to my lips and let the cold liquid wash down my throat.Fuck, that’s good.

“He said he had to finish up grading some papers then he’d be here.” Finn looks over my shoulder then raises his bottle. “Speak of the devil.”

“Sorry I’m late. Chemistry is a big bitch to grade sometimes.” He adjusts his thick-rimmed black glasses as he sits at the third side of the four-sided square table.

---