Scouring through covers on the Wattpad main page, clicking random profiles of authors, desperately clicking on anything that might pique your interest. We've all desperately sought that next one.
The one you can't put down because you relate so much...
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As the blond placed the drink down in front of her, he leaned on his arms, meeting her eye to eye. Curly golden locks framed his suddenly very serious-looking face. "You asked what my job was here. Officially bartender. But I help out where I can." A flash of him striding across the pool deck, her sunglasses in hand, swam before her. "I've only been here about a week."
He offered her his hand. "I'm Sam, by the way. Sam Fremont."
Introducing herself, she wrapped her hand in his. "Ali Stinson." Their skin made contact and the little tingle hit her again, making the hairs on her arm stand up.
Sam smiled as if he'd won the grand prize in a game show. He leaned in closer to her. "Nice to meet you, Ali Stinson." He smelled faintly of lemons, fresh and clean.
She sucked in air, blinked rapidly, and tried to focus. To avoid leaning in and doing something foolish like kissing him, she leaned in the other direction and almost fell off the bar stool. Sam jumped to attention and caught Ali's arms, steadying her.
"Hey, you okay there?"
"Fine." Sam questioned her with a raised eyebrow. For some reason, she had an urge to be honest with him. "Maybe... a little tipsy."
"Mmmm..." He nodded in agreement. With Ali more firmly planted on her seat, Sam slowly let go of her. Hands stayed near until he was sure she was able to sit on her own accord. "Do you think you've maybe had enough tonight?"
Of you, no.
This time Ali was sure she didn't say the words aloud. Sam looked at her, waiting for an answer. He was asking her what she wanted. Very unlike her ex, who would have told her what to do. To rid her head of thoughts of Jack, she gave it a shake. Sam mistook the head shake as a denial.
"How about some water for this next round then?" he offered, changing tactics. She nodded in agreement, causing the room to waver a little.
Was this man trying to take care of her? Would she like that?
Yes, please.
Then, as he walked away to get her water, doubt crept in. Sam was probably simply doing his job. Attending to the VIP. She noticed Brenda stop by the bar earlier and pretty sure they'd been talking about her. Was he only following?
Sam returned with a tall slim glass of water and a bowl of the fancy pretzels the bar offered to its guests. "I thought you might like some food as well."
Ali eyed the contents of the bowl. She hadn't eaten much at dinner, a mixture of nerves she would say something to alert Brenda to her situation and the fact the dress she had on was so tight, she could barely breathe, never mind eat. Those pretzels looked good.
As if to prove they weren't poisonous, Sam picked up a few and began tossing them into his mouth, one by one. She giggled like a school girl. In shock, she raised her hand to her lips. Ali Stinson did not giggle.
She expected him to laugh at her. Instead, he removed her hand from her mouth, turned it palm side up and placed a few pretzels in it. His hand was warm beneath hers, tanned like his face, with long strong fingers and neatly trimmed nails. Sam gently rubbed his thumb against her wrist. The motion sent little waves of bliss through her. He picked up one of the pretzels from her palm and was about to offer it to her when they were interrupted.
