DIRTY TALKER (Single Dad's Club #2)

1 Dane Typical ghost town. Monday nights at my bar, Happy Daze Tavern, always are. With summer about to start and no Monday night football, it’s empty of all the townies who’d normally be hanging around. And though it’s not good for my business, the tourists will be inundating my small town, c****x Cove, again next year so I’ll enjoy it while I can. I love the silence. If you knew me at all, that statement would confuse you. I’m the fun guy, the one who has a smart-ass comment for every situation thrown my way. There’s not much I take seriously—the polar opposite of my buddies, Marcus and Garrett. Isn’t that the beauty of friendships though, you each bring something different to the plate? “You want another?” I ask the cute brunette drowning her sorrows in my special for tonight—watermelon martini. She’s had three so far. The last one I made weaker than the drinks I make for the twenty-one-year-olds who come in here to celebrate their birthdays. Hey, I was the loser who passed out on his birthday after two hours of drinking and if I can help it, I’ll save someone else from waking up with a black d**k drawn on their face. I consider it my civic duty. She shakes her head, her gaze fixed to the bottom of her glass. “Wanna talk about it?” I ask, drying the few glasses that were used tonight. She raises her head to look at me and I can see the fear in her hazel eyes when they meet mine across the mahogany lacquered bar top. “Oh, you’re the dive into my problems and fix them type of bartender?” She chuckles to herself, swirling the red liquid in her cup. “Hey, sweetheart, I have enough to do, you just seemed like you needed to get something off your chest.” And don’t think I haven’t noticed what a nice chest it is. I shrug and swivel around to the row of bottles lined up like soldiers behind the bar, starting to take stock of what I have left. “Well, since you so kindly asked, my mom is getting married to a class A douchebag and has decided to sell my childhood home and move to Norway. What a woman from Kansas has in common with someone like him, I have no clue.” She raises her glass to her plump lips and downs the rest of her drink. “You’re upset because your mom has decided to live her life? What were you expecting? To come home in five years and have your mom make you tomato soup and grilled cheese? Maybe play with your Barbies and look at your ribbons from the third-grade spelling bee?” I lean back on the bar and cross my arms, watching her jaw drop lower and lower and lower until her plump lips form the perfect ‘O’. I’m trying really hard not to picture what she’d look like with my d**k in it. I swear I am. “Seriously? That’s you consoling your customer?” My tongue smacks off the roof of my mouth. “See that’s where people have it all wrong. Bartenders aren’t for warm hugs and pats on the back, they’re for making you see reality. Yours is that your mom has raised you and now it’s her time to live a little.” “What the hell does a guy like you know about it?” Her eyes roam up and down my body. My worn-in jeans and ratty Happy Daze Tavern t-shirt probably don’t make me appear like an upstanding single dad. She likely just sees an incredibly fit, attractive guy in his prime and though she won’t admit it, she’s seconds away from drool dribbling out of the corner of her mouth. What? I’m just being honest. I push off the bar and rest my crossed arms on the bar top right in front of her. “Let’s just say, I know plenty. You look like you were well taken care of, so, I’d say your mom did her job. It’s time for baby bird to leave the nest.” Her narrowed eyes stare into mine, testing me to see if I’ll break. Little does she know that I was the champ of the fourth-grade staring contest. Poor Jenny Geiser became cross-eyed because of her super competitive nature and trying to beat me out on the playground. “You might have a point, but you could say it nicer.” She blinks and I back away from her personal space, secretly scoring another point in the win column in my mind. Juvenile, I know. “Why? It’s the same end result.” I shrug. “Because being nice to someone—” “When was I not nice? I spoke the truth, that’s all.” I nod to her glass. “Another?” Her gaze moves to the clock. “No, I shouldn’t.” “Okay.” My hand moves to take her glass but she slides it away. “You probably have some hot date later?” she asks. Now, I want you to take note of what just happened. She thought I was an asshole two minutes ago when I was giving her some tough love. Now, she’s either looking for lust or love. “No date.” I keep my reply short. “Your girlfriend waiting for you?” Girls have no idea how easy they are to figure out. If she just asked me if I wanted to go back to her apartment and f**k, I’d say yes. We don’t need to waste time on the mental gymnastics. “No girlfriend, and before you ask, no wife.” She sits there silent, watching as I dry a glass for a moment. “Well, thank you for the advice.” She lays down a twenty on the bar top and stands to leave. “You from around here?” I ask, not really wanting this sweet, young thing to leave. “No. I mean, it’s complicated. I’ve been here before but I just returned for the summer.” I set the now dry glass back in its spot under the bar. “You probably shouldn’t be driving home.” She waves me off. “Yeah, I know. Don’t worry I’m not going to.” I pick her twenty up off the bar. “You want me to call ol’ Mo to drive you home? He’s the town’s unofficial taxi. Fair warning though his cataracts are getting pretty bad and he’s half deaf.” She scrunches her eyebrows at me. “That’s okay. Thanks for your...advice.” I put her money in the till and when I turn back she’s already at the door of the bar. “Sure thing. Have a good one.” I wave my hand and hear the door shut behind her. Fifteen minutes later, I’m closing up the bar when I spot the same girl staring into the window of Bread Box Bakery. Her long hair is twisted up in one of those messy buns all the girls seem to wear now, exposing her neck. I will not think about what it would be like to run my tongue along the skin there. I will not think about what it would be like to run my tongue along the skin there. Damn, I just thought about it. Oh well, sue me. “Do you not have a home?” I call across the desolate street. She startles and swivels around, finding me already crossing the street. “Yes, I have an apartment. I was just looking.” “Have you been?” She crinkles her eyebrows obviously not understand my question. “Norma makes the best pies. My favorite is the chocolate. Those little chocolate shavings.” I close my eyes and rub my tummy, as though I just popped one in my mouth. “Delicious.” She clears her throat. “No. I’ve never had them.” “Well, make that a pit stop this summer because...” I lean in close and lower my voice. “Rumor is she’s closing shop at the end of the season.” For the first time tonight, the gold flecks in her eyes sparkle. “Really?” “Why would I lie?” She turns her body back to the window case, her hand plants on the glass. “Listen.” I look around seeing no one in sight, which isn’t unusual at eleven o’clock on a Monday night. “I’m fairly sure that the last crime that happened in c****x Cove was when Ross McGee sold a library book at his garage sale, but I have this manly obligation to make sure you get home safe.” She grants me her attention, narrows her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest. She’s cute with her jeans and Chucks, though her t-shirt could cling a little more if you ask me, but she’s got curves and a stellar ass as I just happened to notice when I approached from across the street. Oh, give me a break, I’m a male, aren’t I? She c***s a hip and puts her hand on her waist. “What makes you think I’d let some bartender walk me home and find out where I live?” I hold my hands up in the air. “Okay, then you can come to my house.” I grin. “What about all your responsibilities?” Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, please take note that she doesn’t immediately tell me to piss off. She could’ve shot me down by now, but she hasn’t. “Lucky for you, I’m done for the night.” I don’t go into specifics that my son, Toby, is at a sleepover. Rule number one in the Single Dads Club is you don’t tell a girl you’re a dad right away. Especially if you’re just looking for a one and done. “Lucky for me? Maybe lucky for you.” She arches one of her dark eyebrows. I step closer, my hand landing on the glass beside her head. “Either way, you haven’t declined my offer. I could make those troubles go away.” Her eyes meet mine and I do my best to let her see that I’ll light up her world one o****m at a time. She shifts her stance. Her tomboy vibe doesn’t scream that she’s a one-night stand kinda of girl, but I can tell she wants me nonetheless. “Don’t sugar talk me like I’m some bimbo without a brain. I know the score if I go home with you. Right now, I’m just trying to figure out if you’re worth it.” I pull my phone out of my pocket. “Should I call some references for you?” She rolls her eyes. “Spare me.” Weaving out from under my arm, she walks straight toward my car. “How did you know the Mustang was mine?” I ask. She walks backward now in order to face me. “I didn’t need to score a thirty-five on my ACT to know you’re the type of guy who buys a sports car in this town.” A smile overtakes my entire face. I like this girl. She’s a little spitfire and it seems like she can go toe-to-toe with me. Not many can. She’s quiet the entire ride and except for a text I notice she sends someone, she stares out the window as we wind through downtown to my house on the beach. It’s not much, but it’s made a home for Toby and myself for the past five years. I park in my driveway, and she climbs out of the car. Usually, I don’t take girls back to my place, but I can see she wasn’t about to ask me to hers and after the s**t I dealt with today down at the county office with permits and crap, I need to bury myself in someone tonight. Yeah, yeah, don’t be all holier than now. I didn’t tie her up and kidnap her. She came willingly. Click. I blink at the light and when the round circles disappear I see that she’s fiddling with her phone. She smiles, tucks it into her back pocket and strolls up to my front door. Woman on a mission. I like it. “Sorry, that was a precaution. If you’re thinking of doing anything to me, my friends will hunt you down and take pliers to your p***s now that there’s evidence on my phone. Even though,” her eyes roam up and down my body again, “I can probably take you.” I squeeze by her on the front porch, inserting my key into the lock. Take that last part for the euphemism it was. “Take me? Have you not noticed I’m about a foot taller than you and weigh probably sixty pounds more?” I c**k my eyebrow and open the door. She slides under my arm and walks right into my house before I’ve even opened the door all the way. “For someone who thinks I might murder them, you sure are in a hurry,” I say. The door closes behind us, and I take a quick glance around ensuring there’s no sign of Toby or his existence. Thankfully I forced him to clean up his stuff this morning so there’s really no sign of him living here like when he was little. “What can I say, I’m eager for some fun.” She toes out of her Chucks and wiggles her toes at the same time she strips off her shirt. Well, damn, I don’t have to worry about her finding out about Toby, this girl is ready for the bedroom already. I push my own shoes off, reaching down to take off my socks and when I strip off my t-shirt, her eyes zero in on my number one asset—the groin cleavage. “You’re a fan of the cleavage?” I smirk at her. She scrunches her eyes, trying to figure out what I’m talking about. “The V shape of my torso. Groin Cleavage?” I point to the deep indents of muscle near my hips that lead down to the big prize. “It may be one of my best features, but I promise, that’s not all I offer.” I stalk toward her, unbuttoning my pants and letting them pool at my feet, stepping out of them never breaking my stride. Practice, ladies, practice. She walks backward, clearly taken back by my aggressive behavior and it’s guaranteed, she doesn’t do this very often. It’s my job to show her how great s*x without strings can be.