Page 1 of Surviving the Break
PROLOGUE
MAX
Two months earlier
Hunt’s Bar wasn’t my usual meet-n-greet location. I’d overheard one of the guys down at the job site mention that if you were looking for a hookup with no strings attached, this was the place you went to find it. On my third beer, and the nervous jittering of my leg hadn’t stopped yet. From experience, that likely wouldn’t happen until I downed my fourth. I could barely see farther than an outstretched hand with how dim the lights were, and the movements of the shadowy figures spread throughout told me most of the patrons were already paired up. Had I gotten there too late? Or was the night still young and full of opportunities? Two guys mauled each other's face off in a dark corner by the jukebox, and another two just brushed by me hand in hand, headed to the restrooms. I squinted but couldn’t figure out what those three men were doing leaned up against the pool table. I’d bet money the balls they were handling weren’t the kind you racked.
Shit. This is what my life had come to in less than a year. Long spurts of unintentional celibacy and then going in search of a random with no name to let off the pent-up steam. My usual dive bar on the outskirts of Chadwick now had one too many familiar faces, and I didn’t do repeats.
“Can I buy you another?”
I turned in the direction of that smooth voice to find a man in a plum-colored suit settling onto the bar stool two seats to the left of me. I stopped myself in the midst of saying “no” after remembering why I was there in the first place. “Sure. But the next one’s on me.”
“Fair enough.” His white teeth gleamed sharply against his dark skin. He raised a hand, signaling the bartender to head our way. “I’ll have two fingers of your best Macallan and another round for him.” He gestured to my beer mug.
Macallan. Suddenly, his bold suit took on new meaning.
“Your eyes are very expressive. They have a mouth of their own.” He smirked, drawing my attention once more to his lips, which were just a shade lighter than his outfit. My cock twitched behind my denims, and I spread my thighs wider to accommodate for the stretch. He ran a hand down his mouth to hide his satisfied grin.
“And what are they saying?” I accepted my pint, and he sipped from his lowball, sucking in the air around us to even out the burn of the expensive whiskey going down.
“They’re wondering what a guy like me is doing in a place like this.”
Maybe they were talking. Or maybe he just saw too much. “I admit you look a bit overdressed for the occasion.” Taking my first pull of my refill, it hit me that my leg no longer battered the underside of the bar.
“I could say the same about you.” He shuffled his glass between his palms. “You’ve got the attire right, but nothing about you screams sex in a dirty bar.” His steel-colored eyes left mine to observe what may or may not have been an oil stain on the bar top. “I suspect we’re both out of our comfort zones here.”
“Yeah, well, this town isn’t so big, and my usual hangout has becometoousual.” I scanned the room in an attempt to avoid his intense scrutiny that said he was beginning to piece me together. “What’s your excuse?” The rough sound his gray scruff made when he scratched along his jaw brought images of hair burn between my thighs. My beer splashed over my fingers from how aggressively I set it down. He pretended not to notice, but I had an inkling there wasn’t much this man missed.
“My last casual acquaintance ended up wanting more than I could give.”
“Avoiding commitment?” I could relate.
“Quite the opposite,” he said with such unexpected intensity I had to once again place my beer down or completely drop it this time. “I’d love nothing more than to be in a committed relationship, but they weren’t the one.” He chucked the rest of his drink and called for another.
Suddenly, this conversation didn’t feel like such a good idea. My palms grew damp, and my buzz kicked into high gear. I asked for a shot of what he was having.
“Did my comment make you uncomfortable?”
“What makes you say that?”
“Your eyes, remember?” He thanked the bartender.
“I’m not looking for a relationship.”
“And you believe I’m looking for one with you?”
I sensed some teasing behind his question, so I didn’t answer. We continued with small talk, which was tough because he made everything feel big. The way he hung on my every word as if we were the only two in the room, as if every question and answer revealed something, and he wanted to remember it. It was contrary to what I wanted.
Only one seat separated us now, and the bead of sweat that ran from my nape and down my spine had nothing to do with the temperature in the room.
“Where are you from?” he asked. “I detect a slight accent.”
I worked hard to hide that. To hide anything that reminded me of home. “Kentucky.”
His pager went off, and even the way he shoved the flaps of his blazer to the side to retrieve it was sexy. He moved like he owned the place. Was he being called away? I grew icy-hot from both hoping and dreading that to be the case. “Do you need to leave?”
“I wouldn’t dare.” He hooked the beeper back to his belt, then swiveled to face me wearing a sinful expression, sliding his tongue along his lips.
