The brewery was only a few blocks away but I decided to drive. On the way to the motel I remembered passing a bank and wanted to stop there first. I needed to get out as much cash as I could because I knew it was only a matter of time before my access to money was cut off for good.

I pulled up in front of the bank and parked. Initially I thought I shouldn’t take too much. I didn’t want to raise suspicion. But I quickly came to my senses.

First, I withdrew the maximum allowed for cash advances from each of my eight credit cards.

Next, I put in my debit card and my stomach sank when an alert popped up and I was informed I could only withdraw five hundred dollars from the checking and savings accounts. I took what I could get and looked around nervously as I shoved fifteen-thousand dollars in my purse and cautiously walked back to my car. It was a lot of money to be carrying around with me, but it was not a lot of money to start a new life with.

Matt would have called it stealing, and I know what it looks like. I’m too good to be married to him but I’m not too good for his money.

But that’s really not fair. That money was half mine, even if Matt was the one who brought it in. I helped him start his business, I stood by his side while he rose to the top, and fifteen thousand dollars was a pittance compared to what he had. He had our house, our savings, the business, the vehicles, apart from my Lexus. Maybe one day all that would get sorted by a bunch of expensive divorce lawyers, but for now, fifteen grand was what I could get, and that was what I was taking. Every penny.

As if I wasn’t already feeling anxious enough, the second I turned my car off in front of the brewery, my stomach sank even deeper. Whatever confidence I’d had when I left the motel vanished as I looked inside the brightly lit windows of the bar. It was full of people having a good time. Everyone seemed to know each other. And I was struck with the realization that never in my life had I gone out for a meal on my own.

I’d always been with Matt, and if it wasn’t Matt, it was the girls at the country club.

Never alone.

Not in high school, not when I was single, not as a married woman. Never.

In fact, I was one of those people who watched people dining alone with curiosity. The girls and I would smirk and judge them for being on their own. At least if it was a woman.

No friends?

No man?

How pathetic.

I felt guilty now for ever having been so shallow.

Even at the time, I knew it was wrong. And deep inside, I’d always been envious of their courage, their freedom, their independence. It took a certain confidence for a woman to sit in a restaurant alone and I’d admired it.

I took a deep breath, pulled my shoulders back and walked in the brewery. It was busier than I expected for so late on a weekday night. Everyone seemed to be talking to each other, I was clearly in the local’s spot. All the tables were full, so I reluctantly grabbed a seat at the bar. I hooked my purse under the counter and wedged it between my legs to keep the money safe.

Fifteen grand, under the bar of some brewery I’d never been to before. What was I thinking?

I glanced up, and what I saw made me feel like I just had the wind knocked out of me.

A large, manly hand gripped the beer tap and my jaw dropped as my eyes slowly followed up the arm.

It was smooth, perfectly tanned, perfectly toned, and lead to the shoulders and face of quite possibly the sexiest man I’d ever seen in my entire life.

Let’s just say, this bartender was HOT.

There was no other way to describe him.

He wasn’t even my type.

He was a total surfer dude, but My God, what a surfer dude.

He smiled, put a menu in front of me, and asked what I’d like to drink. Caught in a state of complete and utter awe, I was dumbstruck. I tried to look as cool as possible as my cheeks turned pink with embarrassment. I shifted in my seat and crossed my legs, knocking my purse off its hook.

“Eh,” I stammered, getting off my stool to pick up the purse, “eh.”

“Eh?”

“Eh, I’ll have a beer,” I blurted out.  “You’ll have to be a little more specific than that, we’ve got over sixty beers on tap,” he chuckled.  

Sixty! Goodness. How was I ever going to get through this? I don’t think I could have even spelled my own name in that moment.

“Oh, right, um, nothing too hoppy, I like a lighter beer,” I stammered, struggling to form a whole sentence.

“We have a brand new one on tap you might like,” he said. “It’s smooth as silk.”

“Smooth as silk?”

He gave me a wink and I felt my stomach do a summersault. He talked some more about the beer but truth be told, I didn’t hear a single word of it. I’d have drank gasoline if he winked at me again and said it was good.

I was looking directly at him, nodding my head in response to his words, but all I was thinking was what he’d look like without that tight black t-shirt on. It fit him so perfectly and I could see the definition of his pecs. I loved the way the short sleeves were riding up his biceps.

He stopped talking, waiting to see if I was interested in trying the new beer.

“Yeah, that sounds delicious, ” I said.

He left to get my drink and I looked around at my surroundings for the first time. I glanced down the counter and quickly realized my waiter wasn’t even the sexiest man in there. The bar was long and full of men that seemed to get sexier and sexier. I was in shock. I had stumbled upon some sort of sexy man heaven.

I was finally beginning to realize I’d been selling myself short all these years, letting myself stay cooped up in Matt’s house, waiting for him to come home, while he was out having fun, cheating on me. The world suddenly seemed full of opportunity.

The men in this town were like nothing I’d ever seen before.

I was used to being around Matt’s stuffy, arrogant friends. They only ever wore suits or blazers and talked about nothing but money, investments, and business.

I was pretty sure these men would burst out laughing if Matt and his friends walked in and tried to act like big shots. These guys were so casual, jeans, t-shirts, some had buzz cuts, and others had long, messy beach hair. Long messy beach hair that I wanted to run my fingers through and pull on.

This was the exact opposite of the world I’d just escaped from, and I liked it. The sexiest part about the men here, other than their perfectly toned bodies and sun kissed skin, was the way they were all joking and laughing with each other. It was so attractive, their smiles were contagious. I watched them while trying not to be obvious.

At the end of the bar sat the sexiest one of them all, but he wasn’t joining in the fun. He intrigued me and looked strangely familiar. He had messy, chin length blond hair and a short scruffy blonde beard to match. He was clearly a part of the group, but was keeping to himself. I hadn’t seen him smile once.

“Here you go, sweetie,” my bartender said as he put my beer in front of me. “Ready to order?”

I’d been so distracted by the row of surfer babes I hadn’t even opened the menu. I quickly picked it up.

“Shoot, sorry. I haven’t even looked yet.” “No problem. I’ll give you a few more minutes,” he said and smiled.

It was a smile so dreamy it made me melt inside. A wave of goosebumps rushed over me.

I hadn’t felt this way in so long and wasn’t sure how to react. I’d been so used to being oppressed, cheated on, to feeling ugly and unwanted, and now I was surrounded by dozens of the most gorgeous men imaginable. Every desire I thought I’d lost came rushing back with a vengeance.

I had to uncross and recross my legs to control the urges that were beginning to wake up inside me.

I shook myself out of my daze and opened the menu. I couldn’t concentrate on the food. I lifted my eyes back up and focused on the quiet guy at the end of the bar. My panties felt like they were melting from the heat between my thighs. Jax Teller. He looked exactly like Jax from Sons of Anarchy. I knew he looked familiar. Sexy, sexy Jax. My guilty pleasure. I’d pictured that man’s face more times than I care to admit while playing with my vibrator.

What can I say? I was a bored housewife. I tick all the stereotype boxes.