I spend most of the day getting settled into the house that I’m renting, and by mid-afternoon I realize that I haven’t eaten anything other than a banana and coffee.
Starving, I climb into my car in search of something to eat. Before I know it, my car heads in the direction of the waterfront, and I know that my subconscious is taking me back to the bar that I’d eaten at yesterday. Or more specifically, back to the bartender that had served me the best pasta I’d ever had.
I try convincing myself that it’s the food that I’m craving, but the truth of the matter is I just want to see Bronn again.
What kind of name is that anyway?
My desire to see him again doesn’t make sense. Our conversation had started off awkwardly, and while he’d eventually cracked a smile––an incredibly sexy one––that had been the height of our conversation. He’d been reserved and even a bit surly after bringing out my food.
But, I’d seen something in his eyes, something that told me that he was worth getting to know. Something told me that he’d understand me. And whatever it was that I saw in him, it had drawn me back to the one place I knew I could find him.
Pulling into a parking space, I turn the engine off, but don’t get out of the car. Staring out at the water, I begin to second-guess myself.
I didn’t come here to find a man.
I came home to find myself.
The last thing I need is to complicate things further with romance. Or worse, a one-night stand that I’ll pathetically hope will lead to more.
No, you can find lunch somewhere else.
I let out a frustrated sigh and turn the engine back on. After putting the car in reverse, I begin backing out of the space, my gaze still glued to the river in front of me. I should focus on work, on my new beginning, on anything except a man that had been short and snappy with me the day before.
A sharp banging pulls me back to reality and I slam on the brake, my eyes darting to the rearview mirror.
My stomach drops when I realize there’s someone behind my car.
I almost hit a person!
I throw the car in park and jump out.
“I’m so sorry!” I shout as I fight off a wave of nausea.
The man’s brows are drawn together, his mouth twisted in a scowl. But the moment our eyes meet, his face relaxes.
It’s Bronn, the bartender.
“Oh my God! I am so so sorry,” I sputter, rushing over to him. “Did I hit you?”
My stomach is still threatening to revolt, but instinct takes over. I run my hands over his arms, looking for any signs of injury. His low chuckle causes me to pause, my arms lingering on his muscular biceps.
“I’m fine. You didn’t hit me.” His voice is filled with humor, and I look up to see that he’s no longer glowering at me.
When I realize that I’m still touching him, my relief flips to embarrassment, and I snatch my hands away. Unsure of what to do with them, I shove my hands into the pockets of my shorts and rock back on my heels.
His face that was so serious yesterday is lit with a smile, and my breath catches at the brilliance of it.
Dear Lord, he’s beautiful.
He’d probably lament the fact that I use that word, but there’s just no other way to describe him. If I thought he was attractive yesterday, then today, with the wide smile that’s still gracing his face, he’s almost entering god-like status.
My belly somersaults as he continues to smile at me, and I fight to keep my voice steady. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
He crosses his arms over his broad chest and my eyes are once again drawn to the colorful markings that cover them. “So, where ya headed in such a hurry this afternoon?”
Unable to drag my gaze away, I stumble over my words. “Oh, well, uh, I spent the morning unpacking and realized I hadn’t eaten much. Thought I’d find somewhere for a late lunch.”
I’m nervous and can barely think. It makes no sense. It’s not like I’ve never been in the presence of an attractive man before. Maybe it’s the fact that I nearly ran him over, but whatever it is, I can’t stop the squeak in my voice and the shake of my hand as I answer his questions.
His eyebrows rise. “You already eat?”
I shake my head. “No.” I’m not even hungry anymore.
He pulls a toothpick out of his pocket and sticks it between his teeth, his lips still slightly tipped up in a smile.
“Well, I’m on my way into the bar, but I was gonna stop and grab some food first. I wouldn’t be opposed to some company.”
Is he asking me to eat with him?
“Oh, no. I couldn’t impose.” I mean, I want to, but I know that I shouldn’t.
Looking me over, he insists. “A meal with you would not be a hardship, I assure you.”
Suddenly the hunger returns. Stronger than ever.
Lunch with him wouldn’t be a hardship either. He’s easy on the eyes, and surely the conversation can’t be any more awkward than it was yesterday. Besides, I need a way to make up for almost killing him with my car. “Well, buying you lunch would be the least I could do after almost running you over.”
“Nah, don’t worry about it. That was nothing.” His eyes cut away and he mumbles, “Been through worse.”
He looks back at me and smiles, but this time it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Let’s get going. I know a place that serves the best oyster po’boys. You like oysters?”
“I don’t know,” I tell him honestly. “I’ve never had them.”
He smirks. “They don’t serve oysters Rockefeller where you’re from?”
“Nah, usually we just have champagne and caviar for dinner.” I wink.
He scrubs a hand over his face to cover his smile and then clears his throat. “Where’d you say you were from again?” he asks.
I begin walking in the direction that he pointed. “I didn’t,” I tell him over my shoulder. “But I will over lunch.”
He doesn’t make a move to follow and I pause, raising my eyebrows in question.
He pulls the toothpick from between his teeth and points it toward my car that’s still running, the driver’s side door hanging open. “You gonna turn her off or you hopin’ someone will steal her so you can get the insurance pay out?”
“Shit.” Embarrassment once again washes over me and, mentally kicking myself, I rush back over to turn the car off.
“Guess I’m still a little worked up from almost running a person over,” I say lamely, lifting a shoulder.
He pops the wooden stick back in between his teeth. “I ran someone over once. Wasn’t as traumatizing as you would think.”
My lips part, eyebrows damn near in my hairline. “Are you serious?”
Another chuckle rumbles through his chest. “Nah. Just trying to make ya feel better.”
He begins walking down the sidewalk and I follow, scrambling to catch up to his long strides. As we walk, I try not to stare at him and occupy my mind taking in the various storefronts we pass. There’s a candy shop that I make a mental note to stop at after we eat, along with several art studios, paintings of marine life filling the windows. So much of the area has changed, with new developments and businesses, but the heart of downtown looks the same. My heart squeezes as I study the area, flashbacks of being a child and walking hand in hand with my mama running through my mind. The nostalgia serves as another reminder that I’m where I belong.
The house that I’m renting is nicely furnished, but I’m eager to have my own space that I can decorate with pictures that I see in the windows that we pass by.
We pass a real estate office, the window covered with available houses, and I pause to look some of them over. There are quite a few that look like exactly what I’ve been dreaming about, but I’m still not even sure I’m going to stay, so I continue after Bronn.
We get to nearly the end of the road and he turns down a side street. I hesitate, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. I don’t know anything about this guy, but here I am about to follow him down a deserted alley.
He pauses and turns back to me. “You coming?”
I pull my purse in closer to my side and look up and down the sidewalk. There are people strolling along the main street. Sucking in a breath, I step off the curb.
“You’re not a crazy person, are you?” I ask half-jokingly.
One corner of his mouth tips up. “Depends on who you ask. But if you’re worried about following me into this empty alley, don’t be.”
Still not completely relieved, I follow behind him, and after a few short steps he pauses in front of a door. The sign above it reads, “Red’s.”
The smell of fried food wafts out when he pulls the door open for me, and he gestures that I go ahead of him. Reassured that he’s led me to an actual restaurant, I let go of my trepidation and step inside, my stomach immediately rumbling loudly.
Bronn follows me inside and leads me to a booth in the corner of the room. It’s mid-afternoon, so the brightly lit restaurant is mostly empty, save for a couple seated at the bar that’s in the center of the room. After I slide into the booth across from him, I look around the restaurant, shock mingling with awe at the décor.
The place is a showroom, decorated in a tasteful nautical theme—nothing like I would have expected after the non-descript entrance.
A man with a massive beer belly and ruddy features shuffles over to us and slaps a couple of menus on the table.
“Bronn, how ya been, son?”
I look over at my companion in time to see him wince. He recovers quickly and returns the greeting. “I been doin’ good, Red. How ‘bout you?”
I tamp down the surprise and turn my attention back to the man that owns the place, reminding myself to stop assuming that I know anything.
Red nods then trains his sharp eyes on me. “And who do we have here?”
Bronn smiles. “This is…” He trails off.
I giggle at the absurdity that I’m having lunch with a man that doesn’t even know my name. I stick my hand out toward Red and when he grasps it in his meaty hand, I look at Bronn and say, “Grace. My name’s Grace.”
With another quick shake, Red grins and then drops my hand. “Well, nice to meet ya Grace. What can I get you to drink?”
“I’ll take a tall IPA. And, Grace, will have a water, no lemon, lots of ice.”
I cut my eyes over to Bronn, surprised that he remembered my drink order. Especially considering he didn’t even get it right yesterday.
He winks at me and then tells Red, “Also, we’ll take two oyster po’boys, a side of fried pickles, and some of your coleslaw.”
Red takes the menus and I smile as he tells us to call if we need anything. As soon as he’s out of earshot, I turn back to Bronn. One eyebrow arched, I ask, “Are we back in the olden days when a woman couldn’t order her own food?”
He leans back in his seat, a smirk on his handsome face. “Didn’t we come for the po’boys?”
I can’t argue that fact, so I clamp my jaw shut and cross my arms over my chest.
Surprising me, he leans across the table and pulls one of my arms out. My skin hums under his touch, goose bumps breaking out. He runs a rough fingertip down my forearm, and a shiver races down my spine.
“We can change the order if you want.” His voice is soft, his blue eyes shining under his deep brow.
Frozen by his touch, I shake my head. He continues to run the pads of his fingers along my arm, and the fluttering in my stomach grows.
A young girl skips over, breaking the spell. “Hey, Bronn,” she says shyly.
Bronn pulls his gaze away from my face. “Hey, Shel. How’s school?”
Eyes that had just been laced with something deep, brighten, humor dancing in them as she rolls her own. “It’s stupid. When am I ever going to need to know what x equals in real life?”
Bronn chuckles. “Well, you’re going to be an astrophysicist, and I’m pretty sure they use that shit every day.”
She shakes her head emphatically. “No way.” Her eyes shine as she tells him, “I’m going to be a famous actress. I think I’ll do serious movies. I like the ones that make you cry.”
He nods. “I’m sure you’ll be brilliant. But, just in case, you should probably work hard in school.”
She sighs, her eyes serious. “You’re right. Guess I’ll go work on my homework now. I’ll get your food out as soon as Daddy cooks it.”
“Sounds good,” he tells her, and she skips away, her ponytail swinging.
I raise my eyebrows. “Seems like you know everyone.”
He grabs the glass of beer, taking a swallow before gesturing at the bar with it. “Red and I go way back.”
I take a sip of my water and smirk. “Red knows how to make a mean water on the rocks.”
Bronn laughs, the sound warming me. “I’ll be sure to make note of that for next time.”
I hope there is a next time.
He takes another swig of beer, then puts it down. He slides his hand across the table, palm up and then brings his gaze back to my face, watching me expectantly.
I hesitate for only a moment until I realize that my fingers are itching to feel his again. I place my hand in his, the contrast of his calloused hand to my soft one causing a thrill to shoot up my arm and straight to my belly.
Giving my fingers a light squeeze, he grins. “So, Grace, where are you from?”
I take a deep breath in through my nose and smile back. “Columbia.”