Me: I DO NOT collect throw pillows. Yes, I’m shouting at you.
Taylor: Whatever. We have a big party every year and you should come. I’ll be working, but I’ll make sure you’re all square for the night.
Me: Yeah, I don’t think so. Going out alone on New Year’s Eve is a pathetic, even for me.
Taylor: Stop. Get yourself gussied up and come on down. I’ve gotta go, delivery guy is here. I’ll see you on NYE.
Me: We’ll see.
I’ll admit the idea of going to my brother’s bar on New Year’s Eve sounds equally as fun as it does intimidating. I’m not afraid to go to a restaurant alone, and I love nothing more than taking myself on a movie date. What’s not to love? You get to sit where you want, nobody talks to you, and you get the popcorn to yourself. But a bar on the night you’re supposed to be kissed at midnight? Yeah, that’s a little too desperate.
As I walk the mall dodging post-holiday shoppers I’m stopped in my tracks when I notice a beautiful red dress in the window of one of the smaller boutique stores. Short in length, the dress is a simple cut, but the lace overlay gives it a dramatic flare. Curious, I step into the shop and walk toward the display window. When I see the dramatic back of the dress my eyes widen in surprise.
“That would look amazing on you.” I startle at the voice and turn, blushing to the woman behind me. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. The dress is one of my favorites and would look amazing on you.”
“Oh, I don’t think so. It’s a little revealing in the back for me.”
“Why don’t I pull your size and you can try it on?”
“No, that’s okay. I don’t have anywhere to wear it anyway.”
“I’m a horrible sales person, but you don’t have to buy it, just try it on.”
She has a point, and I shrug my shoulder in response. I follow the young woman toward a rack holding the dresses and wait while she slides the hangers to the left until she finds the one she wants and motions for me to follow her to the dressing rooms.
“I’m Colette if you need anything,” she says before shutting the door behind her.
I quickly undress and take in my reflection, grimacing at the plain cotton panties and bra set I put on this morning. I stopped buying the pretty feminine lingerie I love after Dan left, never seeing a reason, but standing here I am disappointed in myself. My next stop after trying this dress on will be a little panty and bra shopping.
Once the zipper is down on the dress, I slip off my bra and pull the dress from the hanger and shimmy my way into it. This may be one of the only times I’m grateful for a less than voluptuous body, because the ability to wear a dress like this with no bra at my age is not a given.
I’m unable to zip the dress myself, so I open the door to the dressing room a little and stick my head out. When I catch Colette’s eye I send her a telepathic message for help. Smiling, she walks toward me as I step out from behind the door.
“Need help with the zipper?” I nod in response and once the zipper is in place, I step in front of the three-way mirror and am stunned.
“I told you. It’s perfect. Oh wait!” Colette doesn’t allow me a minute to respond before she takes off running toward the far wall of the store. I see a small display of shoes on the wall and am not surprised when she returns with a pair of strappy heels. “Full effect, time. Here, let me help you. I guessed on the size, but I’m usually pretty spot on.”
Once I’ve played Cinderella and let Colette slip the shoes on my feet, guessing my size correctly, I stand before the mirror and can’t believe it’s my own reflection staring back. Spinning back and forth in front of the mirror, taking in how well the dress fits, I catch Colette’s eye.
“I’ll take them both.”
Looks like I’m going to a New Year’s Eve party.
Over the last few years, our New Year’s Eve plans have been pretty basic. Owen, Jameson, and I would hang out at either Jameson’s house or our apartment and eat a pizza, drink some beer, and play a little of whatever game one of us got that year for Christmas. Once I successfully whooped both their asses and passed more levels than either will ever dream of in any game, we would head to Country Road. Ashton usually worked along side Taylor behind the bar, and for a few of those years, Piper dated Tony Dominguez and would be there with his crew.
By the end of most nights, Jameson had a long-legged blonde on his lap, Owen was talking up a few ladies at the bar, and I was playing wingman to one or both. At the stroke of midnight we each had a woman wrapped in our arms and an invitation to keep their beds warm for the night.
Then Ben moved back to town, Piper dumped Dominguez, and our group went out of control with coupling. Now, here I sit alone on a bar stool, realizing how much has changed in the last year. I’m no longer sharing an apartment with Owen, Ben and Piper are married, and Jameson and Ashton are building a family.
That’s why we all planned to be together this year. Our reality: this is our last year just the seven of us. But then Ben and Piper decided to take a last-minute trip to spend the holidays with her mom in Chicago, Ashton came down with the flu and Jameson is nursing her at home, and Owen and Minnie are spending the night with her sister, Dakota, since it’s her first since the passing of her husband. Although they invited me over, I wasn’t in the mood for a mellow night of apple cider and board games with Minnie’s family.
“Hey, darlin’ you need another beer?”
I turn my attention to the new bartender and smile before answering. “That’d be great. How about a shot of Jack too?”
“Coming right up,” she says with a wink.
By the time my drinks are placed in front of me, the volume of the room has intensified, and I’m barely able to hear myself think, let alone have a conversation with anyone. A fleeting thought that perhaps I’m too old for the bar scene on a major holiday smacks me in the face, but I shake it off. Ignore it as I might, I think it’s more fact than thought.
“Hey, Landon. Flying solo tonight?” Taylor shouts as he sets a case of beer on the counter behind the bar.
“Yeah, everyone bailed. I’m probably going to head home.”
“Ah, I’d hoped your crew would be here tonight. Specifically, the girls. You remember my sister from the wedding?”
“Yeah,” I say before throwing my shot back.
“She moved to town recently, and I finally convinced her to come out tonight. I figured she could hang with the ladies and have a little fun.”
“Bummer, man. I’m sure she’ll still have fun. I’m going to call it a night though. Close out my tab?”
Taylor turns and hands my card back without a slip to sign. When I quirk my head at him he shakes his head. “Happy New Year, man.” I laugh and pull a twenty from my wallet and toss it on the bar, motioning my head for the other bartender. Taylor takes the bill and tosses it in the tip jar behind the bar and waves me off. I’ve barely made it off my stool when half a dozen people start clamoring for the spot. Vultures.
After a few steps I think it’s better to call for a cab instead of driving home. No need to take that gamble, but first I need to hit the head. I walk toward the hallway leading to the back office and restrooms and note the long line for the women’s room. It seems kind of dickish to walk past the line of ladies to the men’s room without a line at all.
When I’ve finished in the restroom, I turn the corner and walk smack into the tiniest little thing I’ve seen. And perhaps, the prettiest. My eyes slowly make their way from a pair of golden shoes up a pair of tan and toned legs that may easily drop any man to his knees before landing on a tight-fitting dress. I swallow, trying to help my now dry mouth as I take in a perfect pair of tits before quickly diverting my eyes to a long neck, dark hair brushing the tops of her shoulders, settling on the face of an angel. Beautiful bee-stung lips, skin smooth as silk with a hint of blush, probably a result of my perusal, and dark brown eyes that are wide as saucers.
“I’m so sorry,” the beauty says, and the moment she
speaks, I tilt my head in recognition. I’ve met her before. Hell, I hope she isn’t someone Owen brought home once. “I didn’t see you, which is dumb because you’re huge, and it’s not like you snuck up on me . . . ah shit. Sorry. I’m rambling. I needed to get out of there,” she says, motioning toward the main part of the bar.
“Hey, you’re fine. Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you when I ran into you?” I ask, using the question as an excuse to run my hands down her arms. Softest skin ever.
“What? Oh, uh . . . nope, right as rain.”
“I know you,” I say, to which she shakes her head.
“Yes, you’re Taylor’s sister. We met at Ben and Piper’s wedding.”
“No, I wasn’t there very long. Only a few minutes. You must have met someone else,” she says, looking around nervously. It’s then I realize I’m very much in her personal space and take a step back.
“I’m sorry, I feel bad, but I don’t remember your name.” I wait for a few beats for her to give me her name, but she doesn’t. “Your brother told me you were heading down for the big party. I was actually just heading home; this scene is a little too much for me tonight.”
“This is not my scene at all,” she says, laughing. “Sorry, I’m Addy.”
“Addison, I remember now.”
“Addy, please. Only my parents and my ex-husband ever called me Addison.”
“Addy, it is. Look, I know I said I was leaving, but if you’d like company, I’d love to buy you a drink. What do you say?” In my head I’m begging her to say yes. If I thought she was beautiful at the wedding, now, standing here before me in this hot as fuck dress, she’s breathtaking. A blush colors her cheeks, and I know she’s embarrassed by my offer.
“Oh, it’s okay. I’m just going to say hi to my brother and go home. I’d much rather be in sweats watching the ball drop on my television.”
“Come on, you came all this way, and if you don’t mind me saying so, you look beautiful. No need to waste that on a pair of sweats. We’ll get a table over there,” I say, pointing to the far corner of the bar that seems to be less crowded than the areas closer to the bar and dance floor. “One drink and we’ll call it a night. What do you say?”
“Really, I hate to impose.”
“Addy, it’s the furthest thing from an imposition. Come on.” I offer my hand to her and for a count of three she hesitates but ultimately places her tiny hand in my own, and as I walk toward a table littered with bottles in the corner, I realize it’s been a long time, if ever, that something fit so perfectly in my hand.
“I still cannot believe you’re a bourbon drinker.”
“Why? Because I’m a woman?”
Addison and I have been sitting in this spot for at least an hour, and after she relaxed we’ve had a good time. It’s much quieter here, which is probably why it’s more vacant than the rest of the bar. We’ve kept our conversation pretty surface, not touching on anything personal, but it’s still better than sitting alone. I know she’s asked me to call her Addy but in my head, she’s only Addison. Addy is for a young girl, and Addison is far from a girl. She’s a woman. A beautiful and funny woman. And a woman who drinks bourbon.
“Whoa there,” I shout in mock horror as my hands rise to defend myself. “I would never insult you like that.” We both start laughing as the waitress drops off another round of drinks. “I figured you for more of a wine drinker.”
“Oh, I love a good glass of wine, don’t get me wrong. But, there’s something about a smooth bourbon that comforts me. My ex would mock me because I’d spend more on my bourbon than I would on hair products. What can I say? I’m a bargain shopper unless it comes to my own happy hour.”
“Well, I say whatever makes you happy. Your ex sounds like kind of an ass.”
“You have no idea. But I don’t want to talk about him.”
We sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, people watching. A couple next to us is arguing while the others at their table exchange awkward looks. Across the room, people are dancing and a few are toasting each other in celebration. I look over to Addison and see her singing along to the song playing, and on instinct, I lean over and whisper in her ear.
“How about a dance, beautiful?”
Looking at me with those wide as saucer eyes, she shakes her head no. I tilt my head in response and smile. Oh yeah, we’re dancing. Just as Thomas Rhett finishes singing about a vacation, the song switches to a Sam Hunt song, and if I know one thing, it’s that the ladies love Sam Hunt.
I stand and extend my hand to Addison who hesitates. I reach across her and grab the glass from her hand before turning to the table next to us. An older couple is cuddled up next to each other. I’ve seen the man at the hardware store, and I’m pretty sure the woman is a woman in my mom’s Bible study class.
“Excuse me, I’d love to dance with this beautiful lady but don’t want to leave our drinks unattended, would you mind watching them?”
Once the man agrees, I turn back to Addison and extend my hand again. This time, she stands and turns to the couple. The woman holds her hand out, and Addison places her small purse in her hand before taking my hand and letting me walk her to the dance floor.
The minute I spin her around and pull her to my arms, my heart rate picks up. Tiny as all get out, she’s a perfect fit in my arms. It’s been a long time since I’ve danced with a woman, especially a slow dance. When we were kids and went to dances, I was too busy counting the steps in my head, trying not to step on the feet of the girl I was dancing with, unable to relax. But dancing with Addison isn’t awkward, and I’m not thinking of anything except how natural she feels in my arms.
One song turns to another, and she settles into my embrace. As I lean my head down a little, I take in the scent of her shampoo. Strawberries with a hint of vanilla, it reminds me of dessert. Sam Hunt compares a woman’s body to a back road, I slowly move my hands down Addison’s back, settling them just above her very toned ass. The movement pulls her closer to me, and when she doesn’t tense or pull back, my mind drifts. It drifts to Addison. To her in my home laughing and flirting and then to her on my bed in nothing but these fucking heels.
The DJ lowers the music a little to signal the countdown for the new year, and I wonder how many songs we’ve danced to. Pulling apart, Addison looks up at me and time slows. I know it’s cheesy and like some damn television movie, but I swear it does. The once loud crowd is but a dull hum as the numbers decline in sequence. By the time everyone is chanting five, I’ve moved one hand from Addison’s waist and placed it on the back of her head, my thumb circling her cheek. I join the crowd with the final numbers as I lower my mouth to Addison’s.
The moment his hand cupped the back of my head and his thumb drew a slow circle on my cheek, I wanted him to kiss me. No, I wanted him to kiss me months ago when I saw him at that wedding my brother insisted I go to with him. Less than five minutes of conversation and this man starred in my dreams for weeks. I never imagined we’d see each other again. I knew Taylor was friends with him and that he likely spent time at my brother’s bar, but I’m not much of a bar girl so I didn’t see how our paths would cross.
Yet, here I am dancing with him, brushed up against his body, and begging him in my mind to kiss me. To lay his perfect lips on mine and give me the best New Year’s kiss of my life. And he does. Slowly his lips brush mine. It’s a small gesture, but I know he’s testing the waters, making sure this is what I want. I do.
I gather the back of his shirt in my hands, twisting the fabric between my fingers in urgency. With that single movement he sweeps his tongue across my lips, and I sink into him. My lips part, allowing him access. His tongue dances with mine, mimicking our dance. When his other hand cups my cheek, I let out a tiny moan of pleasure. This is the kiss I’ve of dreamed of. The kiss I knew a man who looked like Landon would give me.
It’s also the kind of kiss that may lead to irrational decisions. To put myself in a situation I’m not ready for. Attraction is one
thing, but I’m not blind. I know Landon is younger than I am. As the realization of our differences hits me like a cold front, I abruptly pull back from his arms.
“Addison.”
“I . . . I have to go. Happy New Year,” I stutter as I turn and run as quickly as my heels will let me back to where the woman is holding my purse. With a quick thank you, I snatch my purse and rush out of the bar toward my car.
What was I thinking? I had no business being there, and I sure as hell had no business flirting with and then kissing Landon. No, I’m an almost forty-year-old single mom who needs to get her shit together and help her son get through whatever it is he’s going through. I don’t need to entertain the idea of a fling with a younger man. Not even if that younger man ignited something in me I thought was long gone.
I realize as I’m pulling out of the parking lot that I never said hello to my brother. I never even told him I was there. I was so consumed with the attention Landon was giving me, Taylor wasn’t even a thought.
Landon.
Wow, I didn’t see him coming. Sweet, funny, and sexy as hell, he is the full package. And at least ten years younger than me if I’m guessing. Why can’t he be older? No. Why can’t I be younger? I’d much rather be ten years younger. That’s not true, I like who I am now more than I ever did when I was in my late twenties.
Pulling into my driveway, I put the car in park and sit in the silence for a minute. The little house I’m renting is cute and welcoming. A small craftsman cottage, it’s much smaller than the home I shared with Dan when Mason was younger, but as sad as it is to think, this place already feels more like home than any place I shared with Dan. Such a shitty realization at this stage of my life.
I hear a woman’s laughter down the street and look over to see a blonde standing on the porch of a house similar to mine across the street. She’s waving at a couple as they climb into a Jeep and wave back. I smile to myself as I slide out of my seat and head to the front door.
Bourbon & Bonfires Page 4
