Page 58 of Lessons in Love
The best is yet to come.Literally and figuratively.
Chapter Nineteen
Idon’t want to teach her.
I want to win her.
I want to be with her.
I don’t know when this change came over me. I can think of a million little things that swayed me to take notice of Virginia Ryan: utterly endearing smile, that little inch long scar on the side of her right kneecap, the way she smells of vanilla, or even the way her lips fall open when she falls apart from touching her in that most heavenly of places.
But I know the truth. Deep down I know.
The minute my Paloma walked into the bar, she walked right into my heart and claimed it as her own. It’s been two days since I left her apartment and I don’t think I’ve gone five minutes without thinking about her. I’ve been working long shifts, on purpose. Working beats sitting around beating off on my own. Well, I’ve done that too. I mean, I have fresh memories to get off to. I can almost taste V on my tongue if I close my eyes and remember her legs spread before me, her head pressed to the window for all to see us. Fuck, I’m hard again.
I tuck the bar rag into the front of my pants and tell Leo, the newest person, who’s a bartender and model, to join the team, “I’ve got to make a call . . . in the back.”
“Is that what the kids are calling it? A phone call?”
“Hey, you haven’t been here long enough to give me a hard time.”
“Doesn’t seem like I’m the one giving you a hard time, and if I am, then we need to have a talk.”
“Fuck you,” I say, flipping him off while shaking my head. I turn to leave. Fucker is funny. And ballsy. The ladies are going to love him.
I’m gone just over an hour. I went home to have lunch and deal with this situation in my pants. It took two spurt sessions to get out the pent up desire I have for that woman. Feeling relieved and less irritated, I leave my apartment and grab a ham and Swiss on the way back to the bar. I’m fucking starving.
When I round the corner to the street of The Hideaway, I stop and duck into a coffee shop’s doorway. Peeking around and staring, I’m not even sure why I’m hiding.
“Hardy?”
My face is plastered to the window when I jump from the sound of my name behind me. “Fuck.”
Laughter tinkles behind me. A hand takes my arm. “Sorry,” she says, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Hey Luisa.” I shrug and tug at the bottom of my coat to straighten it. “No, no, you didn’t.”
“You sure about that? By looking at the face print you left smeared on my window, I think you might be kidding yourself there, buddy.”
“I never kid myself.” Virginia comes to mind immediately. “Okay, maybe sometimes.”
“Anyway, who are we hiding from?”
“Not hiding. I don’t even know why I ducked under. It’s my parents.”
“Ohhhh,” she replies, looking around the corner. “Do you not get along with them?”
“No, I actually get along with them great.” I catch a glimpse down the sidewalk. They’ve gone inside. “I think I’m just not in the mood to be interrogated about my life, and when I say life, I mean love life.”
Laughing, she wipes down one of the bistro tables. “I see. So how is the love life? Has anyone managed to catch the eye of the unhookable Hardy Richard?”
“Ha! Good one.”
“Even funnier because it’s true.”
“Maybe.”
She squeals and jumps up. “Maybe funnier because it’s true or maybe because someone caught your eye?”
