After one feverish night with Tyler Evans, Rory is never supposed to see the man draped in enigmas and devilish charms again.
Six months later, she's deep into a summer fling with Chace. As their fling becomes a committed relationship, she's adamant...
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"You're not twenty-one," a deep voice says in my ear. Goosebumps climb my arms, and I turn my head to meet a man adorned in the night. His arched lips can be made out in the shadows, but his eyes are more difficult to see beneath his dark, tousled hair.
He's close. Too close for a stranger. My pulse jumps into a frenzy, but I turn around with my chin up and place my sweaty palms on my hips. "Why would you say that?"
"Well, you've been hanging around the bar for about ten minutes and haven't ordered a drink yet. Too nervous to use a fake ID?"
"So, from that, you just assume I'm underage?" My fake ID burns in the back pocket of my jean shorts. "And are you watching me? That's kind of creepy."
A chuckle, low and lord forbid a little sexy, falls from his lips. With a tilt of his head, the hanging lights surrounding the outskirts of the entertainment district manage to illuminate more of his face. He's a white guy with deliciously full lips and storm clouds for eyes. Damn. He's hot. "I wasn't watching you." He holds up an empty glass. "I was getting my third drink, and I noticed you've been looking down at your I.D. every time I walked by. The bartender probably noticed too."
I glance to our left. Sure enough, the woman behind the bar eyes me over the heads of tipsy customers. No amount of flirting is going to wipe that scowl from her face. Well, shit. How am I supposed to get our drinks now? Who am I kidding? Over an hour has passed and Rosita from my business and finance class hasn't so much as responded to my text asking for her location. She isn't coming, and I'm being stood up. Disappointment hardly sets in. Guess, Vicky was right about her being a flake. Somehow, my best friend's doubt in Rosita has prepared me for this moment.
"Word of advice," the stranger says, "try not to look so nervous."
I toss my hands up. "Yeah, well, my date was supposed to buy our drinks, but, clearly, she's not coming. Lying just so happens to be something I'm terrible at."
"Hmm." He folds his arms over a dark blue top that exposes just less than an inch of his midriff. "Just how far away from twenty-one are you?"
I tilt my head to the side. "Why are you asking?"
"Depending on your answer, I'd be willing to help you get some drinks."
"All you need to know is that I'm in college."
"What year?"
"Second."
Pale fingers tap devilishly reddish lips. "So, I'd say between nineteen and twenty."
I smirk. "One of those is correct."
He hooks a thumb beneath the pearl necklace around his throat and bites down a smile. "Well, then I guess I could break the law for you. What did you want to drink?"
