Touching Scars, page 26
1
Present day in May
I LOOK AROUND ME AS memories of that night start to fade away. I swear someone was talking to me. I haven’t gone crazy yet and started having imaginary people talk to me in my head, have I? Twenty eight is too young to start having mental breakdowns. I’d like to think or at least hope so. Oh Lord, please help me. I put my head down and try to look around the bar I’m sitting at inconspicuously. It’s one of the finer bars in downtown Nashville, which is exactly what I wanted for tonight. I needed to find a place where I knew Charlee wouldn’t think to look. Our favorite spots are more along the lines of a honky-tonk bar where an up and coming country artist is playing the guitar, singing their hearts out trying to convince record labels to sign them and wearing cowboy boots is a necessity. As I attempt to secretly look to my right there’s a man looking at me. He seems to be around my age in his late twenties but no more than that. He’s drinking whiskey and his dark suit fits his athletic build perfectly. His dark hair is short on the sides with just a bit of messy length on the top. It’s almost appears like he styles it that way on purpose. Less than a week of scruff adorns his strong, sexy features. Wait, did I just say sexy? I always have been a sucker for a nice scruff. Why am I even thinking about his facial hair like that? Get your shit straight woman, we’re not at the bar to look at facial hair- that’s just weird. His emerald green eyes are searching my own green tinted hazel eyes like he’s seeing something remarkable for the first time….or maybe familiar. I can’t quite put my finger on it but whatever it is, I welcome it.
“I’m sorry. Did you say something to me?”
“Well I was wondering if you were going into a coma over there. You haven’t moved in about forty-five minutes. Is everything alright?”
Had it really been that long? I look at my watch that’s made its way around to the underside of my wrist. I really need to get this thing sized. When you have wrists the size of a 6-year-old it’s hard to find anything that fits them properly. Thanks for that mom.
“Oh, wow. I hadn’t realized that it was so late. I guess I’ve been here for a bit longer than I thought.” Talk about embarrassing. I try to put my head down even further. There has to be a restroom nearby for me to go hide. Where’s Charlee when I need a rescue call to get me out of this situation? Oh that’s right; I told her I needed a night to myself. Way to go Sawyer, high five for that one! I look back up at the man because I can feel his eyes on me. Not in a perverted way, but one that seems almost curious. Then again, I guess all perverts are curious. Gross, maybe I should be worried. Cross your legs Sawyer. Cross. Your. Legs. Wait…don’t perverts like legs? I’ve always been told I have beautiful legs. Why didn’t I wear pants to work today instead of this dress? Shit.
“Are you having a spell of some kind? You’re shifting around in that seat quite a bit.”
Great. That’s just what I need is for this smoking hot guy, oh great I’m getting worse, to think that I can’t keep still because I’ve got crotch rot or some other fungal issue going on down there that needs to be itched. I swear I get myself into the most awkward situations.
“Who, me? Oh no…no I’m fine.” I shake my head trying to assure him. There he goes with those eyes again. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such striking green eyes as the ones on this man. They are a vibrant emerald in the center with a darker hunter green ring around the rims.
“You might catch flies with your mouth if you keep it open like that much longer.”
My eyes widen as I process what he’s said to me. Did I really just get caught with my mouth hanging open while I was ogling his hotness? This night has seriously gone to shit. Where’s my purse, I need to go home and never come out from underneath my pillow. “I’m so sorry. I guess I’m still in a daze from earlier. Don’t pay me any mind.” Please do though, seriously. I stand up to leave and it’s as if he can hear my thoughts because the next thing out of his mouth is a deep throaty laugh that makes my knees weak.
“You’re going to check me out and then leave when I catch you in the act? Is that how this is going down?” He alternates pointing his finger at the both of us. “I don’t even know you’re name yet. I feel somewhat violated to be honest.” He jokingly starts to cover his private areas to prove his case.
Laughing at him I respond, “well, how is ‘this’ supposed to go down? You haven’t mentioned your name to me either. Maybe I’m the one that should feel violated since you were, after all, the one checking me out first.” Another laugh comes from his mouth and this time I notice his smile. There go my panties. I’ll have to switch those out when I get home. I’m a sucker for a nice scruff and I’m unquestionably a sucker for a man with a beautiful white smile, and this man has one.
“You got me on that one, but in all honesty it’s hard not to notice someone as beautiful as you. My name’s Branson. You’ll have to work a little harder to learn the last name though.” He takes a drink.
“Branson is it?” He smiles at me and I can’t help but smile back. “So Branson, what makes you think I even want to put in the effort to find it out to begin with? Maybe I enjoy a little mystery in my life. What will I need to know it for anyway?”
“Oh, you never know. A little mystery is good for a person. It keeps their mind wanting more, along with other things that might seem to be wanting more…”
“If I weren’t such a pervert myself, you might have actually made me blush. But since that’s not the case, my name is Sawyer. Don’t ask me for my last name because I’m not giving it to you,” I say with a cunning grin before sliding my arm over the bar and taking a sip of my cocktail. Take THAT Branson!
“So what brings you here tonight Sawyer? Surely a vivacious woman like you has at least one best friend with the same attitude. Ladies like that usually tend to stick together.”
“As a matter of fact, you’re right. I do have a best friend like that but I told her I needed a night to myself.” Please don’t ask me why…please. That’s not a story I like sharing with others, let alone a stranger.
“I’m going to take the look on your face as you not wanting me to ask why you’d want to spend the night alone. That or it’s too long to tell to a stranger.”
“Well aren’t you an intuitive man Branson. You’re right, it is too long to tell. But it’s also a personal matter I’m not fond of telling to begin with. So it seems you’re shit out of luck tonight.”
“I wouldn’t say I’m out of luck…just biding my time really. You’ll tell me eventually Sawyer, when you’re ready,” he says with a confident smile as he turns his body toward me in his chair. His legs are parted and I start to wonder what it would feel like to be standing between them right now loosening his silk tie with my hands and our lips inches apart. What the hell? Where did that come from? I’m pretty sure this drink is going straight to my lady parts. Calm yourself down there!
“I’m pretty sure I won’t be ready to tell you by the time I leave here, which is something I should probably be doing right now actually.” I glance at my watch again to look convincing. Leaving his vicinity is the last thing I want to be doing.
“I didn’t say it would be tonight,” he says sliding his hand over my wrist covering my watch. My entire body heats up reacting to his touch. “I have a feeling we’ll be spending more time together before long. “
Stay calm Sawyer, just stay calm. Normally that would make a man sound like a creeper, but coming from his mouth it’s something I wish were true. The underlying tones of sexual promise are killing me slowly. Who does that when you first meet someone? Then again Branson could have any girl he wanted with his looks and charm. Damn it he’s not supposed to be charming, too.
“Well good luck with that Branson. I really should be going home now it’s pretty late and I have work in the morning.” I open my purse and turn to slide cash across the bar to pay for my drink that I hardly drank any of. When I turn back around I’m looking straight into a brick wall of a suit covered chest. Branson is standing in front of me and smiling. Holy SHIT he is tall! I didn’t notice his long legs when we were sitting but now I sure as hell do. He has to be at least 6’5” and he towers over me. I’m not short for girl standards at 5’7” but he makes me feel small. His suit seems to hug his body in all the right places and it makes my body shiver in anticipation. I really need to find out where he gets his suits and thank the man who tailors them….maybe give him a medal.
“Can I walk you to your car Sawyer?”
“Well you’re already standing, so I suppose that’d be alright. Don’t get any ideas though, I’ve taken some martial arts classes.” No I haven’t.
“No funny business, roger that.” He winks then opens the door for me to step outside and places his hand on the small of my back guiding my way. I’m not a clumsy person but with his hand there and my mind wandering in places it shouldn’t…scratch that, should always be, I might make an ass out of myself by falling on the sidewalk. He leans down to whisper in my ear before we step out of the door. “If I haven’t told you yet, you look beautiful in that dress Sawyer.” Chills cover my body.
“Thank you. You don’t look too bad in that suit either.” I flash him a flirtatious smile and I can see his eyes focus on my lips. My gaze makes it way to his lips as well and both of our breathing seems to be getting shallow. My heart starts to beat faster and our bodies seem to be inching toward each other, like a gravitational pull. “Umm…car...my cars this way,” I say breaking our stares by turning towards the street. I look back at him and he’s smiling with his eyes still on my lips. Cocky bastard. We walk in silence the few steps it takes to get there.
I stop next to a lifted truck and this time it’s his mouth that drops. “This is not your car. Seriously, where is it?” He’s looking around for a small sports car that he thinks I own.
“Girls can have trucks too Branson. Just because YOU drive a sports car doesn’t mean I have to. I like trucks and a lifted truck is even better. We do live in the south if you haven’t noticed.”
“Hold on a second, what makes you think I drive a sports car?” He looks offended. “Is it because of this suit? I knew this thing would get me in trouble,” he looks down his body with disdain, “I know one woman who loves it though.” His gaze rises and he winks at me again. Actually I drive a lifted truck as well. Just so happens to be the same model, different color.” Pointing to the truck directly in front of mine he starts to laugh. “I knew there was something I liked about you Sawyer. You’ve got damn good taste, girl. A lifted diesel truck is the only way to go.”
“Maybe we can race sometime.” I climb into my truck and start it. I’ve always loved the sound of a diesel. “I can show you what it’s like to lose to a woman.” With that I make my way onto the street, but not without looking in my rear view mirror at the man standing on the sidewalk with a smile on his face who’s consumed my thoughts.
Stacy Borel, Touching Scars
