Authors: Chloe T Barlow
Don't scare her man. You've been staring at her eyes and lips for possibly a creepily long amount of time. Get with it.
"Right." He cleared his throat. "I called you gorgeous and since I don't know your real name yet, I will just have to go with that for now, I guess. Unless you want to share that information with me?"
She seemed completely flustered at the endearment, which was adorable but befuddling.
Could she really not know how hot she is?
He leaned in close to her so she breathed the same air as him and he could tell it was setting her off balance.
"Althea," she whispered huskily, looking at him then quickly averting her eyes again. "You can call me Althea."
Holy hell
, Althea thought,
this guy is way sexier than is even fair
.
She'd already been totally thrown by his looks, and then he called her gorgeous...she hadn't heard that nickname since Jack and it added to the way this whole experience was sending her neurons into overdrive. She blamed that for the confusing fact that she told him to call her Althea, instead of Tea.
She’d even blinked a couple of times as the name slipped out, seeing as she even used "Tea" professionally. It never felt like
Althea
really fit her. Apparently most people agreed, because no one ever called her that.
For as long as she could remember everyone shortened her name to Tea, or called her by her childhood nickname of "Sweet Tea," because she had always been such a
doggone
nice little thing.
Ironically, she'd been named after her man-eating great-grandmother who'd lived it up in Charleston, South Carolina in the roaring 20's with multiple husbands (some of whom died in mysteriously gothic southern ways).
Althea hadn't felt much like that kind of a vixen in, well, ever. No, that had never been her. She was respectable
Sweet Tea
, after all.
But there was something about the way Griffen stared into her eyes that made her heart stop and had her feeling at once at ease, yet also full of desire. She felt more intense, more daring, more connected to the wild woman that was her namesake.
"I'm Griffen. I would introduce myself to your friends, but it seems they had to be somewhere other than here very quickly." He grinned, revealing two of the sexiest, deepest dimples she'd ever seen. Althea had a sudden desire to dig her nose into one of those cute things and wiggle it around, until she realized she was staring and couldn't help but feel a blush spread across her cheeks.
"Yes, they do seem to have run off, haven't they? I guess it's just you and me," she responded as she tried to turn her head and stop staring at him, but she was pretty sure she just looked like she had some kind of a facial tic.
"That works for me," he said with a twinkle in his eye.
Althea had really just been humoring the girls. She'd never actually intended to hook up with anyone. The plan was to have a few drinks and laughs with her friends, maybe look at some guys, flirt with one or two. Those had been the baby steps she'd really had in mind. Yet Griffen was so exciting and new, while at the same time something about him seemed so natural, that she couldn't imagine doing anything that night except for enjoy spending time with him.
Only problem? She was sitting in front of him completely mute, her mind blank of anything to say, and it hit her — she was totally incapable of talking to men, especially this man, romantically. This would likely turn embarrassing fast and it didn't help that she was so damn twitchy. Now it was her leg that kept jumping up and down erratically.
"Do I make you nervous?" he asked.
"A little," she muttered in a voice she barely recognized.
"Just breathe," he whispered. Althea blew out a huge gust of air.
"Thanks," she said, feeling embarrassed.
"I can't have you pass out on me."
"Sorry, I'm a little out of practice at this."
"At what? Talking to a handsome stranger in a bar? I think you're doing just fine."
"Well, you think highly of yourself, don't you?" she said with a smirk and she noticed his eyes drop to her mouth again.
"Don't you?"
"Think highly of
myself
?" Althea asked confused.
"No," he teased and then let half his mouth turn up in what might have been a smirk or was more likely some precursor to his wolfish plan of eating poor Little Red Riding Althea whole. "Of
me
."
"Puh-leeze," she groaned with an epic roll of her eyes. "You
can't
be serious."
"I'm not, but I did make you forget how nervous you are with me for a moment, didn't I?"
She couldn't lie, it had, but she didn't want to give him too much credit. "You certainly made for a good distraction, I will give you that. Thank you."
Though he'd only helped to distract her from her nervousness. Other than that she was hyper-focused — on him: his impossibly aqua blue eyes (s
eriously, is that even a real eye color?
); his broad shoulders; that delicious mouth; the way his slightly shaggy hair grazed his dark brows. Everything about him was hardwired to excite her on every level. Even the one inch vertical scar next to his left eyebrow, that was the only thing marring the perfection of his masculine beauty, drove her insane. Althea wondered if it would be rude to lick that scar in front of a bar full of strangers...?
She couldn't believe she was thinking this way about a man after all these years, but it was as though he'd been crafted and chiseled to make her do something crazy and she liked the feeling.
"Let's go back to the basics. How about that?"
"The basics?"
"Yeah, the basics. I know your name's Althea. Next up — where are you from?"
"Charlotte, North Carolina."
"Dogs or cats?"
"Huh?"
"Do you prefer dogs or cats?" he repeated slowly with a smirk.
"I'm just a general animal lover..."
"Bullshit."
She gasped.
"Everyone has a preference, spill it."
"Okay," she laughed. "Dogs."
"Good answer. Do you cry at those emotionally manipulative Sarah McLachlan commercials about animal cruelty?"
"Of course! You?"
"Maybe..."
"Maybe?"
"All right, definitely, and I always donate a ton of money every time. I think I've ended up with five subscriptions to their magazine by now. Okay. Back to you. Birthday?"
"June 15."
"See how easy this is? Good, now ask me something."
Althea's mouth suddenly went dry and her palms were sweating. She knew that if she put her hand on the bar, she would leave a steamy handprint behind.
Gross
, she thought.
Jesus Althea, come on. Ask him something, anything. Baby steps or not, could you be more boring? IRS agents sound more exciting than you
.
Maybe you should offer to do his taxes, that'll make his night. At least ask him a question. You're so wound up you've got this guy asking enough about you to fill out a visa application for you to go to Abu Dhabi. Least you could do is ask him something back!
She was having some sort of flirtation stage fright and it was kind of humiliating. She tried desperately to remember how to do this but God she hadn't really flirted with anyone since flip phones were an exciting technological development. She looked down and glanced up at Griffen through her lashes, feeling incredibly self-conscious and for some reason — like a failure.
She couldn't believe how much she really wanted something to happen with Griffen. They had steamy glances back and forth down but she would have to talk more or they would start looking like they belonged on a show on
The WB
when what she was really feeling about this guy was more in line with late night on
Skinemax
.
Althea felt way out of her league but kept reminding herself:
This is just a baby step
—
I can do this.
Ha,
she thought,
this guy is no baby step, he is a full marathon of hotness, an Olympic long jump of yumminess.
Maybe I can still go after that slightly chubby hipster. Is he still here? He seems a better way to get back into things. I mean, he may want to discuss his kitschy collection of ceramic diner milk servers, but I can deal with that. I can't deal with someone this irresistible. At least not yet, right?
"Hey, are you still breathing over there?" Griffen asked, stroking his fingers over her hand and resting two on her pulse with a smirk. Althea hadn't realized so much time had passed but his touch burned the delicate skin on her wrist, jolting her very much to the present.
"Oh, sorry, I was just thinking."
"About what?"
"You," she said, barely above a whisper.
"Good," he leaned closer and looked in her eyes. "I like you thinking about me, then I don't feel so alone in the fact that I'm sure I won't stop thinking about you for a while." His eyes darted down to her lips and she wondered if he may kiss her. Instead his eyes looked uncertain for a moment and then he leaned back and picked up her drink. He tasted it and let his tongue dart to pick up a drop that lingered on his bitable bottom lip. "Mmm, a manhattan?"
"Ye-es, they age it in oak barrels for months to develop the flavor. It's my favorite drink." Althea's voice sounded thick and husky to her ears.
"Is that so? Well, then you should be enjoying it more, shame to let something so perfectly developed go to waste." Griffen looked down her body then back up to her lips and leaned the glass to them. As he tilted it up, she opened her mouth to swallow the smooth but heady cocktail. Griffen replaced the glass on the bar and moved his rough thumb across the swell of her lower lip to collect some of the drink that remained there. Althea gasped slightly. His thumb was delightfully cool, but she felt like her lip was on fire. Without looking away from Althea's eyes, Griffen placed his thumb gently into her mouth. "Don't want to miss this, do we?"
Althea looked back at him and sucked his thumb into her mouth. His eyes widened, clearly shocked at how bold she'd so quickly become, but he smiled in glee as soon as he recovered, dimples in full effect. Althea smiled back and let her bottom teeth scrape the pad of his thumb while she sucked at him with her greedy mouth.
"Althea..." Griffen removed his thumb on a slow groan of her name.
She was so glad she told him her whole name now. Just hearing those syllables on his tongue had her warm all over and embarrassingly wet between her legs, because in that moment he made her feel so sexy.
It thrilled her to think that for just one night she could be someone else — not a boring mom or a lonely widow, but a glamorous, desirable woman who could hold her own with a delectable man such as Griffen. The thought that she could turn him inside out, make
him
want
her
, was more intoxicating than the strong cocktail in her hand.
"So, what do you do?" she squeaked loudly, suddenly overcome by how quickly everything was getting away from her and by the pleasantly warm and thrilling sensation running through her from his touch.
If the rest of him tastes as good as that thumb I need to stop being an idiot and make at least something happen tonight
. She grabbed her manhattan from the bar and took a big gulp of it.
Let's do this girl,
she cheered to herself.
Griffen laughed at how the woman in front of him so quickly switched from Jessica Rabbit to Jessica Fletcher, as he quickly gestured for the bartender to come over.
"Another round, man? It's last call."
Griffen nodded and watched his new best friend rush away to make their drinks, as his mind went back to how charming and unpretentious Althea was.
She smiled at him with that sexy half smile of hers and his heart clenched again as she asked, "You know, what do you do — what is your day job? Since I can only assume you spend your nights interrogating other helpless women like myself." She gave Griffen a little raised eyebrow and a smirk and it hit him straight in his crotch. She was starting to open up and he could tell this was just going to get more fun.
"I'm shocked, just
shocked
that you think so poorly of me. You're the only woman I'm interested in interrogating right now, nighttime or not, but as for how I spend my time when I'm not trying to monopolize yours...I'm in town for a couple weeks as a visiting professor at Pitt. Journalism and nonfiction writing."