By the time evening arrived, three-quarters of my closet was laid out on the single bed in my claustrophobic room. Contemplating an appropriate outfit, I opted for a pair of black jeans and a crop top that was sheer above my breast line and up to the neck, along with long, see-through sleeves. The little stomach it showed didn’t bother me, especially since the jeans were high-waisted.

We’d decided that I would meet Lola at the Bistro. Given that we lived in a town where you could walk from one end to the other in less than fifteen minutes, at least there’d never be an issue with driving or traffic. Besides, I didn’t own a car, and at this moment, most of my belongings fit in a suitcase. If a car ever passed by, it was only because someone needed to make their way to Vegas, about two hundred miles northwest of Pace, or LA, and was trying to cut through the side roads.

When I first walked into the bar, the smell of candlewax seemed to overwhelm the place, but looking around now, it added to the Western atmosphere. A predominantly woodsy smell permeated the room. It mixed well with the aged whiskey the handful of folks seemed to be drinking. The Bistro was just the way I’d imagined it: a complete nineteenth century version of an old western building, which included candle chandeliers and a wooden staircase to the side that rose to a balcony with tables and chairs that then led to the motel rooms. Those must have had held thousands of stories. That and about a million bed bugs.

Most of the décor was wooden. Overpowering tones of brown and gold blended together in the room, making it difficult to concentrate on just one piece of furniture. A vintage cartwheel hung on one of the walls, right beside a thick-framed mirror. A bear rug hugged the floor by the fireplace and brought warmth to the space. It was difficult to imagine that the Bistro once used to be a brothel owned by mobsters — at least, those were the stories I’d heard in town.

Bert, the owner, stood behind the bar, and Jared and Daryl, wearing their typical plaid shirts, were throwing darts. I’d never seen a more deserted bar on a Saturday night in my life.

As I scanned the room, I missed someone I thought I’d seen near the other end of the bar when I first came in. He was turned away from me when I first sat down, but was no longer there. He must have gone to the restroom.

“Is this your version of sexy?” I heard Lola’s voice from behind me. I’d been so focused on the atmosphere of the place, I didn’t see her come in.

“Yes.”

“Because that’s my version of I’ll never get laid.”

I rolled my eyes, “I’m not looking to get laid, Lola.”

“Not in that outfit, you’re not. Whatevs.” She waved her hand. “I’m not taking the risk of my pipes rusting, so I’ll see you later. It looks like I have a date with Jack and Coke.” She gestured at Bert and ordered her drink.

“Hold on. You’re going to leave me on my own?”

“Kate, this isn’t an arena. You won’t get lost.”

“Oh. I just thought we’d spend the evening together.”

“We will, especially when I need you to hold my hair as I bow to the porcelain king later on.”

“Oh, gross. You’re going to get wasted, aren’t you?”

“Cha-ching!” She winked and sipped on her drink. Actually, that wasn’t a sip. She gulped that baby down like a professional hooker who swallowed every last drop and then lifted her hand for another one. I felt my eyes bulge.

“Why? Do you need a wing-woman? Because I can definitely do that. Who are we picking up?” She turned toward the two men playing darts. They were more interested in the dart board than the two single women at the bar.

I sighed.

Jared and Daryl were pretty handsome, and maybe if they shaved their thick facial hair, I could be a better judge.

“I don’t want to pick up anyone,” I replied.

“I knew it. You don’t know how to have fun,” she accused, and waved to Bert for yet another drink. He brought two glasses filled to the rim and she handed one over to me.

“You drink that down without stopping,” she ordered.

“I can’t.”

“It’s just one drink, Kate.”

I had a feeling that she wouldn’t leave me alone until I emptied the glass. I could hold my own, though. There had been plenty of parties back home where the guys from our precinct had challenged me to a few shots, and I’d won. I followed suit and gulped the whiskey and coke down to the very bottom, then shuddered. It had been a while since alcohol roamed in my veins.

“Bleh.”

“No good?”

“It’s good. But it’s going straight to my head.”

“You’ll be fine. But you need another one.”

“No way.”

“See, you’re not fun.”

Okay, enough was enough. I was fun! At least, I used to be, before I had to hide out as a timid church secretary who had no life. Maybe Lola was right. Would it hurt me if I let loose just for one night?

“You want fun? I’ll show you fun.” I scanned the room until my gaze landed on a man’s back. It was the same guy I thought I’d seen earlier. He looked handsome from this angle, and I wondered what he looked like from the front. Judging by the length of his legs resting on the bottom rung of the bar stool and by the width of his shoulders, he was tall. Very tall, in fact. I didn’t recall anyone of that height in town. Hopefully he didn’t have a beard.

I hopped off my chair. “Watch and learn, Lola.”

“Kate, wait. That’s… ah, never mind.” She waved her hand. “Go ahead. Make your move, honey.”

“I have a hundred moves,” I said, as I stepped off the barstool. I felt a slight sway on my feet and realized that after the quick drink, I already had way more courage running through my veins than usual. On a normal day, I wouldn’t care. My life and my privacy were too precious at the moment to get involved with anyone. But tonight, this little town in the middle of nowhere, where everyone sort of knew me but didn’t really know me, seemed safe enough to let loose a little.

He threw back a shot of what I thought was tequila and sucked on a lemon. That was not how you drank tequila, and it appeared that my new friend-to-be needed a lesson. Except I couldn’t move. I turned back around to see Lola give me an encouraging nod along with a double thumbs up, so I took a deep breath and stepped forward, then stopped again just to watch him throw back another shot.

Jesus, that was hot.

From a side view, his lips were plump and glistened with the remains of alcohol. An urge to lick the drops left on his mouth flew threw me as an odd tingling grew in my stomach.

We’ll only have a conversation, nothing more, I thought, because honestly, I couldn’t allow anything more. Even if he didn’t have a beard. I was doing this to get Lola off my back. I stepped forward and sat on the stool beside the stranger. When he motioned with his hand for another shot, I jumped in. “I’ll have the same, Bert.”

The handsome man turned around to face me, and my heart almost stopped. His cheeks were chiseled, lips luscious and promising, and he was clean-shaven, like a baby’s butt.

Don’t think about baby’s butts!

It had been so long since I’d seen a man without stubble or a beard that I’d forgotten how good a hair-free face actually looked. His blue eyes framed by long dark lashes pierced through me, his tanned complexion acting as the perfect backdrop for his captivating gaze. A hint of his musky cologne wafted toward me and swirled in my lungs.

Bert passed me my shot with a slice of lemon, and I lifted the glass to him. “You’re drinking your tequila wrong.”

His brows rose amusingly. “What’s the right way, then?”

“You’re licking the salt off your hand, right?”

I felt my right brow rise with the question.

“Yes. Is there a different spot you’d prefer me to lick from?” he asked.

Was that a come on? I shook off the sudden wave of lust as the thought of him licking the natural salt off my body swept through me. And there’d be a lot of salt to lick because I’d be dripping with sweat after he fucked me.

A shudder of delight flew through me at the thought.

“No, you dip the lemon in the salt and then suck it. No need to be licking any germs off those hands, is there? Especially when we don’t know where they’ve been.”

His mouth shifted further up. “I know where mine have been. But now I’m curious where yours have.”

Gawd, he’s hot.

And I was getting hot as well. A drop rolled down between my boobs, and I regretted wearing black.

“Well, I mean like bacteria and stuff. We all touch doorknobs and railings. You shouldn’t be licking your hands without a proper wash first.” My voice trembled. It had become so natural for me to be innocent—almost second nature – that the shit that sometimes came out of my mouth surprised even me. It was that whiskey Lola had forced me to gulp that was messing with me. And it was making me hot. Way hot.

“Cheers!” he said, lifting the shot glass.

I bit my lip and watched him as he followed my instructions, dipping the lemon in the salt and downing the shot without a grimace, then sucking on the citrus. After a moment, he asked, “Better?”

“Yes.” I could barely catch my breath. He returned my smile and I added, “Definitely better.”

Though I might need to ask him to do it again, for practice purposes. But with those deep dimples in his lower cheeks, life suddenly seemed more uplifting than it had been this afternoon.

“Does it really make a difference if it all ends up in the same place?” he asked.

“I guess not.” I laughed and extended my hand to properly introduce myself. “Kate.”

He reached out and shook it. The touch sent an electrifyingly delightful shock through my body, and while my instinctive response would have been to take it away, I didn’t. It was warm and slightly rough, with the right amount of pressure in his squeeze.

“Cameron, but my close friends call me Cam.”

“Are you expecting us to be close friends?”

Oh, my God! Did I sound cheesy? And why was I still holding his hand?

“That will depend on how the evening goes.” He let go of my hand with reluctance.

“Well, it looks good so far from this end.”

“As it does from mine. Another one?” he asked, pointing to the empty shot glass.

“Sure. The night is young.” I wiggled my brows. I bet that looked cheesy as well, but Cam didn’t seem to mind.

“Is that a fresh haircut?” I asked.

“How can you tell?”

“I’m told I spend too much time at the hairdresser’s.”

“So you’re not a natural brunette?” he asked.

“Is that supposed to be a joke?”

“No, just an observation, because your eyebrows are darker. They make your eyes stand out.”

Swoon.

Somehow telling him that he’d had me at hello seemed appropriate, but my tongue sort of tied up.

Half an hour later, we were laughing at each other’s jokes and acting like old friends. Except as time passed, I was afraid I wouldn’t remember much of it. Heck, I stopped counting the number of tequilas I’d had after the third one, when he wiped a stray drop of alcohol off the corner of my mouth and licked it off his fingers. I wasn’t sure why, but he too seemed confused by his own gesture, yet shrugged dismissively.

I in turn was squirming in my seat as my heart drummed a tune I didn’t recognize.

The world was spinning around me. Colors of the rainbow appeared in the mirror behind the bar. When I closed my eyes, I imagined a sprinkle of glitter floating all around us. It was all so beautiful. Life was beautiful, and the more shots I threw back, the more Cam smiled at me and I at him. Lola didn’t even make an effort to interrupt us, and when I saw her sitting at a corner table with a handsome guy whom I didn’t recognize (probably because he had a beard), I couldn’t have been happier. It meant that I had more time with Mr. Tight Tush. Yes, Cam had a nice tight ass that fit oh so perfectly into his black jeans when he walked away to the bathroom. I couldn’t stop staring.

Before tonight, I was convinced that my life was over. I was certain that I could never feel again, but he… he made me feel things I hadn’t in a long time, if ever. It was either that or the amount of tequila I’d consumed. The tingling in my toes wouldn’t stop, and my fingertips felt numb. Still, I didn’t care, because Cam was telling me a joke about a priest walking into a bar. I didn’t remember it the moment he finished, but I kept laughing.

I laughed and laughed until my stomach swirled and my face dropped.

“What’s the matter, Katie?” he asked.

“I think I’ve reached my limit for tonight.” I pushed the full shot glass away.

“You’re not feeling well?”

Cam reached over the bar and poured me a glass of water when Bert was busy. Sometime between my arrival and whatever hour it was, the Bistro had become crowded. Or maybe I was seeing double.

“Drink this. It will make you feel better.”

“I may have overestimated my drinking capacity. I apologize.” I giggled, then felt a tightness in my throat, as if something were trying to come up and my body was fighting against it.

“No need. I had a nice time. Much needed, in fact.”

Feeling my body slouch with happiness, I sighed. “Me too.”

And then the swirl in my stomach came back with vengeance. “Excuse me,” I managed, then shot off my chair and ran to the bathroom. I pushed the first stall door open, bent over the toilet, and heaved. The taste of partially digested tequila mixed with acid filled my mouth as the contents of my stomach were pushed up and out.

Oh, God! What have I done?

In the back of my mind, I was scheming how to get a hold of a toothbrush so that I could clean my mouth properly and not exhale a vomit-infused breath onto Mr. Tight Tush, when the gentle touch of warm fingers skimmed over the back of my neck. My hair was swept away from my face, grasped together and twisted three times. I felt a tightness at the back of my head as my helper held it in a ponytail. I wanted to turn around to express my gratitude, but I couldn’t because another wave of torture was forcing itself out of my stomach. There seemed to be no end to how much was inside of me – around half a bottle of tequila, for sure – but when I finally finished and turned around, I almost fell over.

“You?” I asked. His blue eyes captured mine. The tightness on my scalp from his grip on my hair remained, and his other hand rested on my shoulder. As he stood in front of me, his thighs against mine and my breasts fitting perfectly underneath his chest, the hold had a completely different meaning.

“I thought we were friends,” he smiled.

“We are. Thank you. I thought it was Lola. She dragged me here tonight. I don’t go out a lot. Actually, I know it doesn’t look like it, but it’s my first time here.”

“If it makes you feel better, it’s my first time here as well.”

Feeling a moment of calmness and clear thought, I moved past him to get to the sink, squeezing against his firm torso on the way. He let go of my hair and I felt an immediate loss of his grip.

“So you’re new to town?” I turned on the faucet and looked up in the mirror. The mascara had somewhat held, but my smeared eyeliner had opted for a more gothic look.

“Yes,” he answered.

I cupped the water in my palms and brought it to my lips. I swirled it in my mouth before spitting again, washed my hands, and turned the tap off.

“Oh, well, then we do have something in common. Can I ask you to forget tonight? I’m afraid I haven’t shown my best side this evening.” I combed my fingers through my hair, stacking it to one side.

He scanned me in slow motion, from the bottom all the way up to the top, saying, “I would argue with that.”

Oh, that bemused smile on his face was to die for!

“You don’t have to worry about tonight, Kate. Your secret is safe with me.”

“Thank you.”

He then turned to the door and bent his left elbow, offering it to me. “I must apologize. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I have an early morning and need to head back home. I’d be more than happy to walk you.”

“That would be very sweet of you. Thank you. But I can’t promise to walk a straight line.” I looped my hand through his arm.

“Then I will hold you until you’re all safe.”

Again, that smile — I was afraid it would torture me all night. I could already imagine his lips in my dreams, and me crawling on all fours like a tiger toward him.

Yup, I was definitely drunk.

The breezy night provided enough darkness to feel comfortable while walking. Cam held me under my arm, just the way he’d promised, providing much needed stability. It felt nice. I’d forgotten what it was like to feel cared for. The fresh air helped my head, and the spinning sensation eased as we stepped onto my porch. I rented a small house from the church. The arrangement was convenient because it was technically rent-free while I worked for the parish.

I walked up to the front door and turned around.

“Who’s going to walk you home?” I asked.

“It’s not a problem, Kate. I don’t live far.” He looked to the left, past the church, where I assumed he lived.

“Will I see you again?”

“I can guarantee that.”

“Good. You make me happy. That’s a big deal, you know. Not a lot of people can make me happy these days, and I’m not saying that because I’m drunk because I’m not. Well, maybe just a little drunk, but I know what I’m saying.”

“I am grateful to be the reason behind your joy.”

How sexy did that sound?

“Good night, Kate.”

“Good night, Cam. Is it all right if I still call you Cam after tonight?”

“Of course. I did hold your hair over the toilet, didn’t I?” He winked, and I chuckled. Yeah, despite the vomit and all, tonight was definitely a good night.

“Yes, I guess only a true friend would do that. Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

I reached toward his collar, where the necklace charm of St. Michael was peeking out, and touched it. My head still spun a little, but I knew I recognized it.

“I have the same one. My godmother gave it to me as a gift.”

“Really? I received mine from my godmother as well. Good night, Kate.”

He leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on my cheek, the kind that all gentlemen gave when they were saying goodnight. Yet it felt like so much more.

As I closed the door behind me, I couldn’t help but smile. Cam was a man I definitely would have dated in my past life. Heck, I wanted to date him in my current life, but I’d been taught to sleep on important decisions, and that was what I would do. I’d sleep on it and decide in the morning whether my life could afford a boyfriend; because truth be told, no one could be trusted.