Page 40 of Home to You
My older brother Colt, whistled beside me. “Damn.”
I dragged my gaze away from the woman to see him staring at her, too. Fuck. I didn’t usually go up against Colt when it came to hookups. Not because I couldn’t hold my own—I did just fine, thank you very much—but the guy had that whole tall, dark, and brooding thing down cold. Women ate that shit up with a spoon.Me? I was more of a golden retriever than a lone wolf, and I wasn’t about to get caught in a pissing match.
“Don’t worry,” Colt said with a grin, clapping me on the shoulder. “Not my type, but I can see why she snagged your attention.”
I grinned. “She’s not my usual type either.” Something about her wasn’t just beautiful. She radiated control. Like she owned the room without even trying. A woman like that would normally scare the shit out of me, but maybe that’s what had caught my eye.
Colt shook his head, his mouth quirking to the side in a wry smile. “You say that, but if I asked you to describe your ideal woman right now without stopping to think, how would you answer?”
“Easy.” I faced him fully and started counting off on my fingers. “Wide hips.” One finger. “Tiny waist.” Two. “Thick thighs.” Three. “Long hair. Plush lips.” I finished the list with a shrug, my palm open.
He lifted his right eyebrow before tipping his head in the direction of the woman. “You were saying?”
I turned back toward her, dragging my eyes down the length of her body and cataloging her features. Wide hips, check. Tiny waist, check. Those thighs? Shit. Long hair pulled tight into that ponytail I wanted to do very bad things with. And those lips pressed on her wine glass? Plush as sin.
My mouth went dry, and heat shot through me. My jeans got uncomfortably tight, and I had to force myself not to adjust my stance. This woman didn’t just tick my boxes. She was the whole fucking list.
“Huh,” I huffed in surprise.
“Good luck, brother,” Colt said with a laugh, already turning toward the pool tables.
You only live once, right? I thought, shoving a hand through my hair. I wasn’t about to let a woman like that walk out of here without at least trying. The worst she could do was shoot me down.
I straightened my shirt and made my way over, my steps slow and casual as I tried to calm my beating heart and pretend I hadn’t been staring at her like a dumbass from the moment I walked in.
When I reached the bar, I angled my body toward her, leaning on one elbow. Her scent hit me first—warm and heady, like jasmine and vanilla wrapped in smoke and silk. The kind of perfume that lingered on your skin and in your damn memory. Expensive and sensual as hell. Christ. I was already half-hard, and I hadn’t even spoken to her yet.
Shit, get it together, man.
“That seat taken?” I asked, my voice coming out low and rough as I gestured with my chin toward the empty stool between us.
She looked up slowly, cool green eyes sweeping over me like she was appraising livestock, starting at the tips of my boots and going all the way up to the top of my forehead and then back down. She took a deliberate sip of her wine, never breaking eye contact, before setting the glass down with a soft clink. Her lips tilted into a smirk. “That depends,” she said, her voice a rich purr. “Are you going to be interesting?”
I laughed nervously, my heart kicking in my chest as her response caught me off guard. I shifted my weight from one boot to the other, suddenly aware of how she was studying me. “I can try.”
When was the last time a woman had made me work for it? Lately, it felt like all the girls I’d been fucking had come easy. The sex was fun, sure, but somewhere along the line, I’d startedmissing the thrill of the chase. The spark that came from having to earn it.
“Is trying the best you’ve got?” she asked, turning slightly in her seat to face me more fully. Her wine glass dangled from her fingertips, the red liquid catching the low light.
I shrugged, offering her a slow grin. “Figured I’d start slow. Didn’t want to scare you off.”
She arched a brow. “I don’t scare easily.”
Christ. That voice.
I leaned in, noticing when her eyes dropped to my mouth. “Good to know.” I eased onto the stool, giving her just enough space to keep things respectful. “Gage,” I offered, resting my forearm on the bar.
The bartender—Cal, a guy I’d known since grade school—sidled over and lifted his chin in greeting. “The usual?”
“Yeah,” I said. “And whatever she’s having, on me.”
She cocked a brow at that but didn’t protest. “Cabernet,” she said to Cal, then turned her gaze back to me. “That’s bold, offering to buy a drink for a woman who might not even tell you her name.”
I shrugged. “Guess I like a little risk. Also, I figured if you were going to send me on my way, you’d have done it already.”
Her lips twitched. “Confident.”
“I prefer optimistic.”
