Something Unexpected

Chapter 4-1

“YOU’VE GOT TO be kidding me…” I mumbled and turned, shouting over my shoulder. “Oh, and thanks for sticking me with the tab!”

The bartender walked over. “Everything okay, ma’am?”

I sighed. “Yeah. Guy I met on Tinder just turned out to be nothing like I expected.”

A deep voice came from the other end of the bar. “Shocker. Maybe you should try looking somewhere a little more respectable…”

I squinted down at him. “Excuse me?”

Excuse meThe guy rattled the ice in his glass without looking up. “What’s the matter? He wasn’t as good-looking as his picture made him out to be? You gotta give a guy some leeway. You women are the queens of hiding s**t. Lord knows we go to bed with someone with long hair, a great tan, and full lips. In the morning, we wake up next to a person we don’t recognize because of all the makeup, hair extensions, and plumping crap you use.”

Seriously? “Perhaps if you weren’t so rude and looked at a person when you were speaking to them, you might have noticed that I don’t have hair extensions, wear very little makeup, and I’m naturally plumped in all the right places.”

Seriously?lookednaturally allThat seemed to get his attention. The guy’s head lifted, and he did a quick sweep over my face before his eyes snagged on my cleavage. It gave me my first good look at him. The face that came with that attitude was nothing like I would’ve expected. Based on how defensive he was about my would-be date’s looks not being up to par, I thought maybe he had some experience disappointing women. But this guy definitely didn’t let down anyone. He was younger than his grumbly voice hinted at, with dark brown hair that could use a cut. Yet I would’ve enjoyed running my fingers through it had he been my Tinder date. He had a strong, masculine jaw peppered with stubble, a Romanesque nose, tanned skin, and aquamarine eyes lined with the thickest black lashes I’d ever seen.

nothing heToo bad he was also a jerk.

a jerkWhen his eyes finally met mine, I arched a brow. “Which one of us is the shallow one again?”

His lip twitched. “Never said I didn’t appreciate beautiful things. Just that you should give a guy a chance.”

I shook my head. “Not that it’s any of your business, but the reason that guy wasn’t what I expected was because he had an indent from his wedding band on his finger. Probably slipped it off two seconds before he walked in. It had nothing to do with his looks.”

“I apologize then.” He motioned to the bartender. “Her next round is on me.”

I pointed to the half-drunk expensive scotch Tinder guy had left behind—without any cash. “How about that one is on you instead?”

He chuckled. “You got it.”

I sipped my wine, still stewing over the jerk I’d wasted three days talking to. Eventually I yelled over to Mr. Attitude again. “Hey, so what do you use?”

“Pardon?”

“What dating app? You said I should use a more respectable dating app.”

“Oh.” He shrugged. “I don’t use any.”

“Married?”

“Nope.”

“Girlfriend?”

“Nope.”

“So you just what…troll the supermarket pretending to shop?”

“Something like that.” He smirked. “Is Tinder your go-to?”

“It depends on what I’m looking for.”

“What were you looking for tonight?”

I thought about the question. Let’s face it, I found the guy on Tinder three days ago and met him in the bar in the lobby of my hotel. I think it was clear what both of us expected to happen. But it wasn’t really about the physical—at least for me. “To forget,” I answered.

The guy’s mask of superiority might have slipped, just a little. Then his phone rang, and he swiped to answer.

“Tell them I’ll join in five minutes,” he said. “I need to get up to my room where the prospectus and my notes are.” He said nothing more before swiping off and lifting his chin to the bartender. “I need to run. Can I sign the tab to my room?”

The bartender nodded. “Sure thing.”

“Room two twelve.” Arrogant guy reached into his pocket and took out a wad of cash. Tossing a few bills on the bar, he motioned to me. “Put her bill for the night on my room, too, please.”

“You got it.”

I lifted my wine. “Shame you have to go. Maybe you aren’t such a jerk after all.”

His lip twitched. “I called the meeting, so I can’t miss it. But it’s definitely my loss.”

I grinned. “Sure is…”

Though as I watched him stand and realized he was well over six-feet tall and his dress shirt hugged him very nicely, I wondered if it was my loss after all. Nonetheless, he disappeared with only a nod.

veryForty-five minutes later, I told the bartender to save my seat—even though I was the only person in the bar—and went to the ladies’ room. Yawning as I washed my hands, I figured it was time to call it a night. But when I returned, a man sat in the chair next to mine. And not just any man—the arrogant, incredibly handsome guy from earlier.

I took my seat, which now had a fresh glass of wine in front of it. “How was your meeting?” I asked.

“Do you really care?”

“No, but I was being polite. Something you should try once in a while.” I turned to face him and tried to ignore that he was even better looking this close up. I’d never used the word smoldering to describe eyes before, but that’s what his were. Smoldering bedroom eyes. He smelled damn good, too. “You know, just because you’re hot doesn’t mean you can be rude. Maybe that works for you in the supermarket, but it won’t work with me.”

smolderingSmoldering bedroom eyesHe raised a brow. “You think I’m hot?”

I rolled my eyes. “You should’ve focused on the part about being rude. Figures all you heard was good-looking.”

“Is that why you picked Tinder guy? He was polite?”

“He was nice, yes. He was also funny and made me laugh.”

He lifted his drink. “Nice and funny got you a married guy who stuck you with the tab. Maybe you should try hot and rude?”

I chuckled. He had a point. “Do you have a name? Or do you prefer to be referred to as Mr. Arrogant? Because that’s what I’ve been saying in my head.”

Mr. Arrogant extended his hand. “Beck.”

When I put mine into his, he lifted it to his lips and kissed the top. It caused a tingle all over me. Though I wasn’t about to tell him that.

“Is this how they do it in the supermarket? Kiss a stranger’s hand and invite her back to your place?”

“My place is three-thousand miles away.”

“Oh. So you aren’t looking to replace the guy I kicked to the curb earlier?”

He grinned. “If you’re actively seeking a replacement, I mean, I am right here. But I’d like your name first, at least.”

I amI laughed. “Nora.”

He nodded. “Nice to meet you, Nora.”

“What brings you out to the middle of nowhere, Beck?”

“I came to see family. You?”

“Girls’ trip. We’re just passing through for a few days.”

Beck’s phone buzzed on the bar. He leaned forward to check the screen and shook his head. “I’m gone a half a day and all hell breaks loose at the office.”

“Not going to answer it?”

“It can wait till tomorrow.”

“What is it you do that makes you such a popular man?”

“I’m in mergers and acquisitions.”

“Sounds fancy, but I have no idea what that actually means.”

“It varies. Some days my company helps companies around the same size consolidate and become one big powerhouse. Other days we help a powerful company take over a weaker one.”

“Does the smaller company want to be taken over?”

“Not always. There are friendly transactions and hostile ones. The one all the calls have been about tonight is not a friendly takeover.” He sipped his drink. “What do you do?”

“I make coffee table books.”

“Like the thick ones with travel photos or fashion through the years or whatever that people leave out?”

“One and the same.”

“So are you an author or a photographer?”

I shrugged. “Both, I guess. Though it still seems surreal that I can make a living doing something so much fun. I went to school for journalism with aspirations to be a writer. Photography was always my hobby, but now I write the copy and take the photos for my books.”

“How did you get into that?”

“After college, I queried an agent with hopes of selling a thriller novel I was writing. Back then, I had a blog for fun. I used to take photos of people living on the streets of New York, and underneath each one, I wrote a little story about the person. I had a link to it in the signature block of my email. The agent I’d sent the chapters to didn’t love the story, but she noticed the link to my blog and checked it out. She asked if I’d be interested in pitching a coffee-table-type book instead. I said sure, and over the next eight years I created twenty-five coffee table books about the people who live on the streets in different cities. Last year I started a new collection about graffiti and graffiti artists in different cities.”

“That sounds a hell of a lot more fun than mergers and acquisitions.”

I smiled. “I’m sure it is. I consider myself very lucky, career-wise. I make a good living doing something I love and get to travel all over the place. Plus, I’ve met some amazing people along the way, and I donate a percentage of all book sales to support housing for those who need it.”

Beck’s eyes roamed my face. “What are you trying to forget, Nora?”

It took me a second to realize what he meant. That’s what I’d told him I was trying to do with the Tinder guy. “Doesn’t everyone want to forget life once in a while?”

“Maybe.” He rubbed his bottom lip. “But usually there’s something in particular, like a difficult relationship, stress on the job, financial struggles, or family troubles.”

I traced my finger through the condensation on the bottom of my glass while Beck quietly waited for my response. I turned to face him. “Do you want to know why I like Tinder instead of meeting people in the supermarket or a bar?”

“Why?”

“Because it’s easy to find men who are happy to make me forget, yet don’t care enough to ask why all I want from them is sex.”