Her Rebound Guy. Jennifer LohmannЧитать онлайн книгу.
future.
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BECK WAS NERVOUS enough that her hand shook as he had gripped it in his. She even walked like she was nervous, with her shoulders up near her ears and quick, rabbit-like steps that made the ruffled bits at the bottom of her dress bounce about her fine legs. And her square jaw had tightened as she’d smiled, rather than opening in the bright grin he remembered from her profile picture. Her rich brown hair was shoulder-length and feathery around her chin and collarbone.
She was just as cute as she’d been in her profile pictures, with intelligent eyes and an open face. In fact, her nerves were endearing. Caleb couldn’t remember the last time he’d been nervous on a date, nor could he remember the last time he could recognize that one of his dates was nervous.
Her profile said that she was divorced. If he had to guess, she hadn’t been divorced long. Once inside, he stood back to watch her move as she approached the bar.
“Hi,” she said to the young woman wiping a glass dry. Then, to his surprise, she stood on her toes and her legs looked almost a mile long sticking out of the bottom of her dress. The hem of her cardigan lifted, though not enough for him to see if she had a nice ass.
He was trying to figure out what she was all about when she said, “That’s a nice dress,” to the younger woman behind the bar, who beamed wide with pleasure. “That’s a Marauder’s Map on your dress, isn’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the girl says. “You like Harry Potter?”
“Doesn’t everyone? Or everyone who knows anything.” Beck sank back on her heels and Caleb could see that she was smiling.
Well, isn’t this different. Caleb had been on hundreds of dates and planned to go on hundreds more before he died. Many of those women he’d gone out with had been nice. They’d been friendly to waitstaff and kind to the person who helped them in the shop. But Beck struck him as different. She was one of those rare people who was kind to people because she saw each and every person in front of her as a unique and interesting individual who was worthy of getting to know.
That was different from someone being polite because they were supposed to or because they were a cheerful introvert. Even through her nerves, Beck exuded a warmth that even the bored-with-life hipster behind the bar responded to. Caleb had been to this bar what felt like a thousand times, both on his own and with dates. The bartender had never looked back at him with a real, honest-to-God smile, no matter how polite he was.
Beck was different, alright. If Caleb had to guess, he’d say Beck was one of those people who hugged strangers and they didn’t mind.
He was so lost in his own thought and evaluation of her that he didn’t notice she’d ordered and paid for her drink until the girl was handing over a martini glass with a purplish liquid in it and Beck was agreeing to start a tab.
“Anywhere you want to sit?” she asked, turning to face him.
There weren’t a lot of seats in this bar to begin with, and his favorite date table was taken. “How about that one?” he asked, gesturing to a booth away from the door.
“Sounds good,” she said and then stepped away. He stayed put but continued watching her make her way through the people until she was at the table he had gestured to. Then she got out her phone, typed something quickly, and then seemed to turn the volume down and put the phone into her purse.
He’d turned the ringer of his phone off back when he’d parked his car. And it was a point in her favor that she’d done the same and tucked it away where it couldn’t be a distraction. He turned back to the bar and ordered his gin and tonic and some bar snacks. He ignored the little voice in his head that told him his life was changing today. His life had the possibility of changing every day, with every breath.
Beck was sweet and he dug the intelligent sweep of her eyebrows, but she wasn’t going to change his life any more than any of the other women before her had. Even if the smile she greeted him with held a hint of mischief.
“SO, TELL ME about your dog. Why is he named Seamus?” Mr. Swoony—she supposed she should be calling him Caleb now—asked as he lounged in the bar’s booth. Lounge was a quiet word for the sprawl of all his limbs across the fabric. Only a man at ease with his body from tip to toe could so easily extend his extremities without worrying about whacking over the large vase of flowers next to his right hand.
He was probably good in bed. A man that comfortable with himself had to be good in bed, right? Or, maybe, it meant that he only thought of himself. What did she know? Neil was the last man she might have looked at and evaluated how good he’d be in bed, and yet she couldn’t remember if she’d ever done that. Since it had been college, probably not.
She took a sip from her Aviation cocktail, smiling a little. At her thoughts. At her lack of experience. At the big leap she felt like she was taking into life. She wasn’t smiling at Caleb, exactly, until she caught his gaze and a shiver of pleasure ran down her spine.
Definitely good in bed. More certainly, it had been over a year since she’d had sex and that was long enough to make a woman imagine orgasms in every man’s gaze.
“Seamus?” She looked away quickly before she actually imagined what the sex would be like. That sounded too much like committing herself to a roll in the hay, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to do that. Over a year might be a long time, but she could wait longer. She wasn’t looking for an open barn door.
“The shelter said he was found muddy, in a swamp. The woman who found him and cleaned him up said he looked like a half-dead beast dragged out of the bogs.” She shrugged, a little self-conscious. “It made me think of Seamus Heaney.”
He raised a black brow, which made her more self-conscious. “Poetry, huh?” Then he smiled and her self-consciousness disappeared with his casual acceptance.
“I’m proof that English majors get jobs.”
He barked a laugh. “So am I.”
They shared another quick glance that made her toes tingle. It was harder to look away this time.
Friends told her that she needed to know what she wanted with this whole dating thing, but they hadn’t told her how to know what the person she had a drink with wanted out of the experience. Well, except for the bride, Jennifer. But Jennifer’s advice had only been to pick the right dating site and avoid handsome men. Caleb was in direct violation of at least one of those pieces of advice.
What did Caleb want?
Unable to bring herself to ask that question, she asked, “What do you do?” instead, spinning her martini glass on the table. His profile had said he was a reporter, but that was vague.
“I write for the Raleigh paper. Politics. I cover the General Assembly.”
That set her back a little in her seat. “Not a simple job. And always something to report on.” Anything happening in national politics had to have a run in the state first, sometimes including the out-and-out battles.
“All those bills made in the dead of night. I have trouble keeping track,” she confessed. “And the laws they pass don’t seem to relate to anything. What does women’s health have to do with motorcycle safety laws?” She’d been against that one on principle. And Leslie was one of her favorite people to work with, so she’d been against the bill that banned people from bathrooms and even called her representatives about that one. She was prouder of her stance when she learned later that the bill had included a bunch of other stuff about restricting local government. Frankly, she was generally against bills coming out of her state capital on principle. Maybe she would be for them under different, more open circumstances, but she didn’t know what was in them because they were presented and passed within hours.
Secrecy was bad, and being against secrecy was