Page 3 of Bound

Chapter One

Emery

Sitting at the bar, I swirled the straw around, forcing the ice cubes to twirl and dance in the liquid. Resting my head on my hand, I watched the vortex as it dissolved the ice layer by layer.

Why the hell did I agree to this?

Passing by me for a third time, the bartender stopped to ask me if I needed anything, but I brushed him off, shaking my head no with a partial frown.

“You sure?” he asked, leaning in closer so he could hear me speak over the music, music that was only there to make bodies grind together, and no real conversation.

“Yeah, I'm sure.” Looking over my shoulder, I glanced around, searching the crowd for my so called date. “I'm waiting on someone.”

Smiling, the man placed a shot glass on the bar. “This one's on the house.” Grabbing a bottle of vodka, he filled it to the rim. “Tastes like raspberries, and hopefully it'll help you feel a little better. If it doesn't, at least it'll make waiting less boring.” Winking, he nodded his head for me to take it.

Eyeing the small glass, there was a moment of hesitation. I wasn't much of a drinker, and the last thing I needed was to get drunk while I did something that pushed me completely out of my comfort zone. I was already on drink two, that was more than I usually had in a month.

I had already started to get the signature warm and fuzzies in my belly, and my muscles felt loose and tingly as the buzz traveled my body like hot water.

What the hell am I doing here?

You promised Della you'd give it a shot, that's what you're doing.

My best friend Della had basically talked me into this, using her famous puppy dog eyes and pouty lips to push my decision. Add in her little bit of begging, and I reluctantly agreed against my better judgment.

So, here I was, waiting on a guy—who in her words—was God's gift to mankind. His name was Simon, a local guy who came into her coffee shop every Thursday for years now.

Supposedly, he was six feet tall, with dark red hair and a killer smile. She said he was built like a house, with thick muscular arms and a tattoo on the side of his neck.

That last detail made me second guess her choice, but I was going to keep an open mind, and I hold my promise to see this date through to the end. My only problem now was there weren't any men around that resembled her description at all. Tapping my nails against the cold glass, I watched the alcohol as it sloshed from side to side.

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