Page 2 of Only for Tonight
I slide onto a barstool, trying to look like I do this all the time. Drink alone at fancy hotel bars in emerald dresses while pretending my heart isn’t bruised.
The bartender appears. He has a purple mohawk, killer smile.
“What can I get you?”
I glance at the cocktail menu.Fuck.Too many options.
“What do you recommend for someone who’s had a really bad week but is trying to have a good night?”
He grins. “Oh, I’ve got just the thing.”
Five minutes later, I’m holding the most ridiculously pretty drink I’ve ever seen. Aggressively pink with a purple flower floating on top, a sparkly sugar rim, and a tiny umbrella.
“It’s called a Pink Misery.” He winks. “Seemed fitting.”
I laugh despite myself. “Painfully accurate.”
I take a sip. It’s sweet and strong and exactly what I need.
I’m pulling out my phone to take a picture when someone speaks beside me.
“You don’t look like you’re having fun.”
The voice is smooth and low and annoyingly accurate.
I turn.
Oh.Oh.
Ink running down his forearm in intricate patterns that disappear under rolled sleeves. Confident stance. A grin that looks like it could get away with anything. Dark hair mussed, and eyes the color of chocolate and sin.
“Is it that obvious?”
He nods toward my drink. “Only people having a really shit night order the cocktail with the purple flower. And the sugar rim. And the little umbrella.”
I glance at it. The drink is stupidly pretty. Like something a fairy would sip while crying over a broken heart.
“It’s called a ‘Pink Misery.’ I think it’s kinda ironic.”
His smirk transforms his face.
I laugh. The first real one all night. It surprises me how easy it is.
“Are you here for the convention too?”
He nods, those dark eyes never leaving mine. “Flew down from Sydney to support my best mate who’s working it.”
His gaze lingers, bold and slow and deliberate.
Warmth floods my cheeks, but I don’t look away.
“What do you do?” I ask. “When you’re not supporting friends, I mean.”
“I’m a chippy. Carpenter.” He grins. “Build things with my hands.”
Of course he does.
“Bec.” I extend my hand.
