Page 2 of A False Start
I give the man my best resting bitch face before peering down at my nails with disinterest. “I’m not well-trained like that, so you really are going to have to use the other sink.”
I gesture across the vanity, and he glares at me, irritation rolling off him in waves. The only part of him that moves is his broad chest as he breathes heavily and stares me down.
“And if you’re going to talk to me like that again, I suggest you cup your boys to soften the blow.”
He shakes his head and steps over to the other sink, flicking the tap, agitation lining every movement. A breath rattles past my lips, and the tension in the room begins to dissipate.
“I know. This is the men’s room. I shouldn’t be in here. Yadda, yadda, yadda. But you just pulled your dick out and took a leak without a second thought, so it’s kind of hard to believe you’re averse to washing your hands in front of me.”
He says nothing. Just pumps a few gelatinous blobs of pink soap into his wide, calloused palm. He looks older. He must be. The confidence, the thin lines highlighting the tense set of his eyes, the whole brooding act.
“You know,” I continue, completely unprompted, just prattling on now, “I should thank you. That guy is the worst kisser. All teeth and saliva.” I shudder dramatically as a small giggle escapes me, and I trace a finger over my puffy, ravaged lips while staring for too long into one of the pot lights above me. “Like, really bad.”
Bright spots dance across my vision and the quiet stranger just grunts, white t-shirt stretching across his thick chest, and then says, “Why?”
“Why what?” I ask, leaning in again, trying to get a view of his face. To make heads or tails of what this guy actually looks like. His light wash jeans hug his ass, and his thighs fill them out just right, not too thick. His waist is trim, and a sea of intricate black tattoos that I could spend hours deciphering cover his arms.
His eyes flit to mine as he rinses his hands methodically. He swallows and his Adam’s apple bobs heavily in his throat. “Do that with him.”
“Kiss him?” My head quirks, and he nods, stepping closer as his long arms reach across my lap to use the hand dryer. The loud, whooshing sound fills the bathroom again, substantially less funny this time around.
I watch the way his hands fold over each other under the warm air, the odd droplet of water landing on my bare thigh just beneath the hemline of my jean skirt. When the dryer stops, he turns to me, and the weight of his gaze winds me. I suck air in through my nose, my shoulders coming up high as I do.
“I wanted to celebrate tonight. Found out I got into school today. I’m finally doing something for myself. I guess I just wanted to feel good for a bit.”
He stares wordlessly, so I fill the space with words instead.
“Today I found out they accepted me into the program I applied for months ago. I’m going to be a veterinary technician. It’s the first thing I can say I’ve ever really wanted to do entirely for myself. I was so nervous about applying that I haven’t even told anyone I did—let alone that I got in. Not even my boss, who should probably know because she’s going to need to hire a new receptionist by the time September rolls around.”
The man hits the dryer again, as though to drown out my rambling. The warm air envelops my thighs, and I can almost imagine him palming them instead. To distract myself, I keep talking, hands gesturing animatedly.
“So, I’m supposed to be celebrating my accomplishment tonight. Havingfun. And if nothing else, Tommy has always been fun. Easy. A nice enough guy—if a terrible kisser. Best of all, he doesn’t want any sort of commitment. Which is perfect because I don’t have any commitment to give.”
The dryer stops and lights glint off the deep brown irises that trace my face now, his nose wrinkling as he turns my words over in his head. This nameless man is studying me like I’m nuts.
A nervous laugh spills out over my lips before I lick them.He is so intense.“I don’t know why I just told you all that.”
His face is impassive, but he lifts one hand, hooking a finger through the strap of my tank top that is still pushed off my shoulder, making me feel just as disheveled as I must appear. But rather than pulling it down further, like I hoped he might, he slides it up and places it back over my shoulder, the first knuckle of his pointer finger dragging across my collarbone.
My breath catches at the contact, goosebumps racing out in its wake, the man’s dark mahogany eyes fixed on where he touched me.
“Kiss me.” I blurt the words out before I even think about them. His gaze snaps up, searing into mine. “A congratulatory kiss. A real kiss.”
Here it is. My reckless side is out to play.
I swear I can see him thinking, weighing his options. Anyone could walk in at any instant.
“Why?” Suspicion taints his gaze.
I shrug. “Why not? Two perfect strangers who will never see each other again. What have you got to lose?”
He continues to stare at me for a beat, and I watch some of that wariness melt away. Within moments, his hand comes up underneath my jaw, his thumb pressing gently into the cleft of my chin as he pulls me to him, and like a moth to a flame, I go.
Up close, I get a glimpse of how ruggedly handsome he is. He turns his head to allow for the brim of his hat, giving me the perfect view of his stern face. This is a man who knows what he’s doing. Knows exactly how to tilt his head, how to angle mine.
His face descends, and when his lips land against my own, I swear the world stands still. He smells like laundry soap and freshly fallen pine needles. His lips move with precision, with a longing I’ve never felt. And his mouth tastes like cinnamon.
I lean closer and sigh into the kiss, letting my palms press against his chiseled chest where the thumping of his racing heart beats against them. I find myself wishing he’d hold something more than just my chin. Wanting his calloused hands on me the way Tommy’s smooth ones were minutes ago. I already know it would be better. This is the universe’s cruel version of a side-by-side taste test.
