Ho bag. See also: Dana Rogers.
I’d never been so forward in all my stupid life.
Sure, it felt kind of empowering. Women should own their sexuality and go after what they want and all that shit. And I’d always believed that—in theory.
However, in practice, I’d never been so blunt or obviously came onto a guy.
Was it because I had completely taken the possibility of anything more than a fling with Cord off the table on my own terms? There’d be no surprise disappointment. I wasn’t expecting anything emotional, and, therefore, didn’t mind admitting to myself that I was interested in something physical.
Super physical, to be exact.
Because, you know, one last hoorah.
Oddly enough though, when he acted like a nut job was when I found him the sexiest. His expressions were priceless. They were hilarious and endearing, which gave him this awkward charm.
For clarity, I did not want to like him; I did not need to like him.
So, while it sounded slutty as hell when I pretty much told him talking was overrated, I really just needed him to shut up. Because the more of a fool he made of himself when he talked to me, the more he seemed like a normal guy. And, dammit, the more I kind of liked him—which wasn’t part of my plan.
It was all part of his tricky game, but I wasn’t falling for it.
No, talking to him would only get me right back where I was. Single, lonely, and, as embarrassing as it was, kind of desperate.
If I played my cards right, Cord Taylor would be the exclamation point at the end of a very long, very disappointing sentence that was my dating life as I’d known it. After him, I’d accept that if I couldn’t have the crazy chemistry I’d always sought after, so be it. There was more to life than physical attraction.
I’d always desired the hot and heavy stuff mixed with devotion and respect. Mixed with fondness and reliability. It was just time to focus on what was really important factors in those combinations.
You know? It’s what’s on the inside that counts and all that other mushy feel-good Becca stuff.
Meh. It didn’t sound very sexy.
Did it make me a bad girl because I appreciated beautiful men? I didn’t think so, but, for fuck’s sake, that wasn’t getting me anywhere. Equivocally, Cord—awkward and endearing as he was—wasn’t going to get me anywhere either. Not with a body and a smile like that.
I was thinking about all of this, giving myself a silent pat on the back for being so on top of my shit after leaving him with his mouth open in the doorway, when I met Jodi in the narrow path back to our table near the stage. She had her purse over her arm and her keys in hand.
“Hey, where are you going?” I asked.
“Matt just texted me. Max won’t stop crying—it’s probably his ears again. It’s driving Matt crazy. He wanted to know how much longer he had to babysit.”
My head almost exploded on her behalf. “Babysit? Isn’t that his kid?”
“Exactly.” She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, if Max isn’t feeling well I better go anyway. I’m sorry. I’ll call you.” She gave me a quick hug and nodded over my shoulder. “Cord looks good tonight.” She knew me. Well, she knew the Old Dana.
“He’s just a man, and men are dumb.”
“Yeah. Stupid dicks,” she jested as she squeezed past me.
“I got you another Captain,” Becca said when I took Jodi’s seat beside her instead of the one I’d left. “Did Jodi tell you what Matt said?”
“Yeah, I hate him right now. I don’t know why he’s being such a douche.”
Becca gave me one of those she-has-her-suspicions looks, but I didn’t ask her to elaborate. For the first time in a while, Becca and I were out together, and even if we didn’t know Jodi’s friend very well, we still had two more rounds left of that hard as hell game.
Eventually, Amber what’s-her-face, our fourth, wandered off, which left our two-person team sucking big time. It wasn’t long before we quit keeping our score and before we knew it, both of us were on our phones. Becca checked her email, and I scrolled through social media, game night had gone tits up.
Then I got a private Facebook message from across the room.
CORD: Are you winning?
ME: No. We suck.
CORD: We’re not very good either. Want to go to the east side and have a few drinks?
ME: <thumb>
CORD: K.
This time, instead of scowling at my phone, the thumb and K made me smile. Dammit.
By that time, Becca had moved on to playing Candy Crush … at the bar. I must have been awesome company.
Hanging out with the guys didn’t sound bad.
I know what you’re thinking. Make up your mind. I told you, I was an addict. Okay? Get off my ass.
“Hey, let’s go to the other side. I don’t want to play anymore, but I don’t want to go home yet.” I threw my phone in my wristlet, downed the last of my drink, and popped a piece of ice in my mouth.
She stretched to look over the heads of a few people in the direction of where the guys’ table was and said, “Yeah, let’s go see if they’re done, too.”
When her face lit up, I looked behind me instinctually.
There, across the bar, was Reuben. He mimed something to her. I hadn’t caught the first part, but it ended with him biting his lip, squinting, and making a thrusting motion.
Becca beamed back at him, then motioned toward the door.
He shook his bottle in the air and then held up two fingers.
She drank the rest of hers and nodded.
Over my shoulder, I saw him wink at her. It was like some form of sign language for couples.
Good for them.
My wandering eyes glanced over at Cord, which was easy because he was the tallest guy around. By the looks of it, he’d witnessed some of their interactions too because I couldn’t hear or tell what he said to Becca’s soon-to-be husband, but Reuben flipped him off.
“Come on.” Becca tapped my arm. She’d already packed up and was waiting for me to get up and go. “We’ll meet them over there.”
I always thought of the east side at the Mill the more laid back, quieter side of the two.
I’d been wrong. That side was buzzing with people.
Our small group of Nolan, Cord, the lovebirds, and me kept the bartender busy. He was good too. Always quick to get my drink refilled.
Becca and I sat at the end, with our backs to the bar, and talked with the friends. Reuben and Nolan gave Cord shit about everything. I mean everything. From teasing him about how many women he’d dated to being a momma’s boy. More than a few times I’d thought ouch, but Cord didn’t get upset. He laughed and took his punches.
“I’ve got to open the gym tomorrow, guys. I’m out,” Nolan stated as he finished his beer.
I looked at my phone. Midnight.
Since we’d been in a group situation, I hadn’t really had much of a chance to flirt with Cord aside from a well-timed smile here and there. The more I watched Becca and Reuben together, coupled with the more I drank, I became surer about what I wanted.
What I needed to do.
Right after I did Cord, that was. He was so fine.
My buzz had me questioning: Why couldn’t he be like a normal guy in a hot guy body. You know? Like, I wanted him to be thoughtful and attentive. Playful and flirty. And totally into me, of course.
He was just too handsome for all of that. Once, while they were teasing him, he tipped his chin up and did this quick eyebrow lifty thing at me. It was like a wink, but with his eyebrows.
Just once. Really fast.
I swear I got wet.
It was completely biological, and the sooner I got him—and his kind—out of my system, the better. I could move on with my life, just like Becca and Reuben were ready to move on home from the bar right after Nolan did. It didn’t look like Reuben wanted to go, but she whispered something in his ear, and the poor guy was a goner.
“Do you want to catch a ride out with us, Dana?” Reub asked. “Cord probably has a booty call to get to.”
Cord smacked him on the shoulder, finally defending himself, and warned, “That’s enough. Knock it off.” He used a tone I hadn’t heard from him until then.
Becca looked mortified and pulled Reuben away. “I’ll call you tomorrow. I better get Mouthy here home.”
Then, it was just us. Exactly what I’d hoped for.
I spun on the stool to face the bar, and Cord took the seat beside me. Without motioning or saying anything to the bartender, he was already there, and I pushed my glass toward him.
“Another?” he asked and smiled.
I nodded and replied, “And whatever he wants.”
I wasn’t cut out for the ho life. And although things were going as I’d planned, it didn’t feel that great. Still, when I angled my head to the side and caught Cord looking at me, running his long fingers over his lips like he was contemplating something, I absolutely wanted to be that something.
“I’ll have another Sam Adams,” he said to the bartender but didn’t take his eyes off me. For minutes, he held me there—a staring contest which started casually enough.
Have you ever been locked in a gaze and it’s almost like a conversation all by itself?
A squint.
A brow flinch.
A slow blink.
A nod.
A slight raise of a half-grin.
It was almost too personal. Maybe even dangerous.
“What?” I finally asked and forfeited the game for a sip of my drink.
“You’re up to something.” Cocksure, wasn’t he?
I shook my head and ran my finger through the sweat on my glass. “No, I’m not.”
“I know women, and you’re up to something.”
“You don’t know me.” I liked it better when he was just hot and kind of goofy. Alone at the bar with him, I felt like I was at a disadvantage. Maybe it was the drinks.
He explained, “I know you’re trying to figure something out.”
Yeah. My life.
“Well, since you know so much, why don’t you enlighten me? Please, Mr. Taylor. Tell me about me.” I turned in my seat and crossed my legs, which weren’t even long enough to touch the ground so they perched on the rung of the stool.
He leaned back and appraised me.
I tried not to show him how uncomfortable it made me being that brazen. You probably think brazen? She’s just sitting at a bar having a drink, but it was more than that. There was something getting hotter between us, and I was the one stoking it.
I had to remind myself it was just for one night.
After that night, I wasn’t planning on seeing Cord, aside from wedding stuff. Besides, according to his friends and my instincts, he probably had a long line of all those women he knew waiting to get with him.
For me, sitting there letting him try to pick me apart, was a vulnerability I’d never felt. I rolled my neck to shake off the quelling anxiety the situation caused. To pull his attention elsewhere, to distract him away from my eyes, I lifted the glass to my mouth and made a slutty show of taking a drink from the thin straw.
Just call me Captain Whore-gan.
“That would be too easy.” He clenched his jaw and the muscles where his profile made that perfect cut, flexed as he thought. “It’ll be more fun watching you figure it out on your own.”
Well, la-di-freaking-da.
Where did this mack daddy persona all of the sudden come from? From all our run-ins before, I hadn’t seen so much machismo. Naturally, it only made me want him all the more. It also reminded me why he would most likely be the last man of his kind that I’d let myself enjoy.
“Figure what out exactly?” I asked and quirked my right brow.
In turn, his eyebrow rose to match mine. Then he answered slowly, “What it is you want from me.”
I couldn’t let him know how this conversation was affecting me. The pressure in my chest. How each word he spoke sent tingles fleeting across my skin. How I tried to hide the nervousness shaking my fingers each time I took a drink. It was impossible to think we were talking about the same thing.
Wait. We were. Sex. That’s what we were both talking about.
Not feelings. Not more.
Just. Sex.
“Well, whatcha got?” I asked.
His eyes lit, they screamed challenge accepted.
I’d come there with the intention of using him as a bookend on my fickle and scattered relationship status. I hadn’t been too sure earlier, but as the last of the rum and Coke ran down my throat, I was confident he’d make my last tryst a memorable one.
He slanted his wrist to check the time. “Do you want to get out of here?”
I was getting what I asked for.