Love In Alabama (The Love In Series Book 1)

by Shelby Gates

  Adam pulled out my chair, then took the seat across from me and looked at our hostess. “Thanks, Gretchen.”

  Two minutes later, a bus boy dropped off tumblers of water and a basket brimming with miniature corn muffins. Adam picked one up and popped it in his mouth.

  “Bottomless basket,” he said, nodding at the muffins. “Eat up.”

  I picked one up and took a bite. They were moist and buttery and had pieces of corn embedded in them. “These are good.”

  “Everything here is good.”

  “That was nice of your friend to get us a table.”

  I was curious about the woman named Gretchen. She didn't act like a jealous ex-girlfriend but she also didn't seem terribly surprised that Adam showed up, asking for a table with a woman she'd never seen before.

  “I send people this way all the time,” he said. “People looking for good seafood. One of the perks is getting first dibs on tables when I come.”

  A waiter stopped at our table for our drink order and we both ordered beer.

  “Where do you send people from?” I asked after he left.

  “My job.”

  “What do you do?”

  The waiter returned with two large pilsner glasses and set them down in front of us. Adam took a long drink. “I work at one of the hotels. Concierge.”

  “Not The Beach House Inn?”

  He chuckled. “No. A bigger resort.” He didn't elaborate and swallowed another mouthful of beer. “The number one thing people want are restaurant recommendations.”

  “And this is one of the good ones?”

  “Not one of the good ones. The best.”

  He smiled and I noticed how it reached his eyes. They were like cat's eyes, all green and yellow and brown. They were warm and mesmerizing and I reached for my own beer and looked down at the golden liquid, trying to get a grip on the desire igniting in my body. It felt foreign, unfamiliar and I didn't know what to do with it.

  We ordered a few minutes later, fish and chips for both of us.

  “So, Jessica,” Adam said, leaning back in his chair. “What brings you to Alabama?”

  “I already told you. I'm visiting.”

  “Sure,” he said. “So this is just a getaway? By yourself?”

  I took another sip of my beer. It was a local brew and it was light and crisp and went down easily. Too easy. I'd already drained half of the glass.

  “I'm traveling for a while,” I told him. “Seeing the country.”

  “Yeah?” He raised an eyebrow. “And little ole Alabama made your list of things to see?”

  I thought about what I should say, how much I should tell him. I wasn't going to go into the whole fifty guys in fifty states thing, but I could tell him about my plans to travel the entire country. A state per week. That would be safe...and wouldn't make me sound like a total skank.

  “I like the beach,” I said. “I've never been here before. And it seemed like a good place to start. The beginning of the alphabet.”

  “This is your first stop?”

  I nodded.

  He smiled again, a smile that was sweet and sexy and loaded with lust, and my toes curled.

  “Well,” he drawled. “I'm glad you're here. And I'm glad I get to be the one to show you some of the best Alabama has to offer.”

  TEN

  Am I going to sleep with him?

  It was the only thing I could think about while we ate and talked.

  I'd made a mental list of all the things I liked about the guy sitting across from me.

  He was hot.

  He was sweet.

  He acted like he was attracted to me.

  He was hot.

  There was only one thing in the Don't Have Sex With Adam column.

  I was afraid.

  Sure, I'd gotten on the plane and flown to Alabama to embark on this ridiculous mission. And I'd happily agreed to a date with a complete stranger. All of those things were necessary to accomplish what Paige had convinced me to do.

  But as we finished our dinner, the uneasiness I felt was threatening to morph into full-blown anxiety. The three beers I'd had with dinner should have helped calm me down but it seemed like I needed an entire keg to fully steady my nerves.

  “So, what did you think?” Adam asked, leaning over his now empty plate. “Food as good as I promised?”

  I looked down at my own near-empty plate that at one point had been filled with stuffed flounder, sauteed asparagus and mashed potatoes. “Better, actually,” I said. “It was great.”

  He nodded like he'd expected that answer. “It doesn't get any better down here, I swear. They have guys who go out every morning. They bring back what they catch and that's what they cook that day.” He winked. “Fresh makes all the difference.”

  I didn't know the first thing about fishing. “I guess so.”

  “And it seems like you thought the beer was okay, too,” he said, smiling.

  I took a deep breath and glanced at the almost-empty third glass. “Definitely. Helped steady the nerves, too.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “Nerves?”

  “Been awhile since I've been on what's essentially a blind date.”

  He folded his tan forearms across his chest and locked his eyes with mine. “This is totally going to sound like a line.”

  “I probably wouldn't recognize it,” I told him.

  “Lucky me, then.” He grinned. “But you don't look like someone who would have trouble getting dates. At all.”

  I closed my fingers around my glass so he wouldn't see me trembling. It wasn't an outlandish, over-the-top compliment but, for someone who wasn't used to men fawning over her, it certainly felt like one.

  “It was actually my ex-husband who didn't have trouble getting dates,” I said, trying to keep my tone light.

  He grimaced. “Ouch. I'm sorry.”

  “Don't be,” I said, waving a hand over the table. “We can thank him for this date. Because if I hadn't divorced him, I wouldn't be here and I wouldn't be traveling the country and I wouldn't be...” My voice trailed off and my hand flew to my mouth.

  “Wouldn't be what?” Adam asked.

  Maybe the beer had done more than I'd thought. I'd almost told him what I was doing in Alabama, what I was doing on my trip around the country.

  He reached out his hand and touched mine and a jolt of electricity shot through me. His fingers stroked my skin, his touch feather soft. His eyes were still on me, his gaze slightly hooded, his lips curved into a small smile.

  I swallowed hard. Alabama—and Adam—were starting to look more and more like a good jumping off point.

  In a number of ways.

  “Tell you what,” I said, leaning over the table. His eyes dipped to my neckline and I thrust my chest out a little, hoping to give him a better view. “Take me to some little bar that you know about. Buy me one more drink and I'll tell you.”

  His eyebrows lifted and his smile turned from soft to seductive. “I know just the place.” He held up a hand to get our server's attention.

  “Good.”

  His fingers slipped between mine and he stroked the soft flesh on my palm. My skin sprouted with goosebumps. “You've got me curious, Jess. And excited.”

  He wasn't the only one.

  ELEVEN

  “I feel like a hurricane,” I said.

  “You don't look like one,” Adam teased.

  “The drink,” I clarified. “I need something...exotic.”

  And strong, I added silently.

  Adam scooted his chair closer to me and grinned. “Pretty sure they can do that.”

  We'd driven back to The Beach House Inn, parked his truck and then walked up the street about three blocks. At some point, his hand found mine and I didn't pull away. His grip was warm and firm and I suddenly had visions of all the things he could do with those hands. If I let him.

  He guided me into a small square building wedged between a souvenir shop and one of the highrise resorts. A pink neon s
ign flashed the name Betty Joe's and a string of white twinkling lights was looped around the edges. Adam guided me through the darkened room, to a table in a back corner near an old jukebox. An old Madonna song played from the speakers and an older couple danced on a small wood-tiled dance floor, their arms looped around each other as they swayed drunkenly to the music.

  A small dark-haired waitress walked slowly toward our table, eyeing me first, then Adam. Her pink tank top fit her like a glove and her black booty shorts hugged her slim hips. She held a small notepad in her hand, a pen tucked behind her ear.

  “Evening,” she said, but it came out a little dry, like she didn't really mean it.

  “Hey, Emma,” Adam said casually. She looked expectantly at him and he chuckled at her expression. “This is Jess.”

  Her eyes swiveled to me. “Welcome to Betty Joe's, Jess.” Her tone wasn't mean, but it wasn't terribly friendly, either.

  “Hi,” I said.

  Her eyes swiveled back to Adam. “Usual?”

  He nodded. “And a hurricane for Jess.”

  Emma eyed him a bit longer, ignoring me, then turned and headed back to the bar.

  “I'm gonna go out on a limb and say you know her,” I said.

  He chuckled. “I think I know everyone here in Perdido. Like I said—small town and I've been here forever.”

  I sensed that it was something more than that, but he wasn't offering and I wasn't going to pry.

  “So the name,” Adam said, leaning in close to me. His hand slid on to my thigh and I sucked in my breath at his touch. “Betty Joe's?”

  I was having a hard time concentrating. His skin was warm through the fabric of my dress, his fingers gently kneading my flesh. “Yeah?”

  “Guy that owns this place has two kids,” he explained. “Betty and Joe. Named it after both of them rather than have one of them thinking they were more important than the other. Everyone thinks he just spelled Joe wrong.”

  “That's kind of cute,” I said.

  He stared at me for an extra second or two before breaking into a grin. “So are you.”

  Before I could respond with something other than a blush, Emma returned with our drinks. She set a tall glass, complete with orange wedge and blue umbrella, in front of me and a small cocktail glass filled with what looked like soda in front of Adam.

  Emma kept her eyes on my date. “I'll be around. If you need anything else.” She turned and sashayed away, her hips swinging back and forth.

  I raised my eyebrows. “I think she meant she'd be around if you need her later on.”

  He picked up his glass. “Don't mind her,” he said. “Emma and I, we go way back.” He looked at me over the glass and winked. “And I don't think I'll be needing anyone else later on.”

  A small thrill rippled through my stomach. “No?”

  “No,” he answered, his hand tightening on my thigh. “I'm good with my date.”

  I lifted the giant hurricane toward him. “To first dates.”

  “To first dates.” He clinked his glass against mine.

  I sucked down a huge mouthful of pineapple and rum, my tastebuds puckering at the combination of sweet and sour. I took another huge swallow and, before I knew it, half the glass was empty. I set it back down on the table.

  “I take it it tastes good?”

  I cleared my throat, the rum coating me in a light fuzziness. “Very.” I wanted to comment that his hand felt good, too, resting on my leg, tracing light circles through the fabric of my dress.

  We sat there for a few minutes, listening to Culture Club and Billy Idol. The couple on the dance floor was still going strong, but they'd stopped swaying and were just sort of holding each other.

  Adam grinned, nodding his head at the couple. “They look...drunk.”

  I laughed and finished my drink and thought I wasn't going to be too far behind them at the rate I was going. Adam drained his glass and, without asking, Emma wordlessly delivered two more.

  “Okay,” he said, twirling the small straw in his new drink. “You've kept me in suspense long enough.”

  I started in on the fresh drink. I couldn't recall the last time I'd had so much to drink in one night. I felt warm and fuzzy inside, and my tongue felt thick and loose, like it was ready to spill all of my secrets.

  “So,” I said, not hesitating at all. I leaned closer to him, my voice lowered a notch. “I'm traveling.”

  “Yeah, you mentioned that.”

  “To all fifty states.”

  “All fifty?” he asked, his tone registering his surprise. “Really?”

  “Yep.”

  “And you started here,” he said, repeating what I'd told him from dinner.

  “I had to,” I said, grinning. “Alabama is at the beginning of the alphamet.” I made a face. “I mean, alphabet.”

  He reached over and pulled the hurricane toward his side of the table. “Maybe we should lay off this for a bit,” smiling at my mispronunciation.

  “Maybe.”

  He looked at me. “And you're going in alphabetical order?”

  I reached across the table and plucked the umbrella from my drink. I twirled it between my fingers. “Yep.”

  He thought about this for a minute. “Isn't that...expensive?”

  I shrugged. “Yeah.”

  “But money isn't an issue for you.” He said it as a statement, not a question.

  “Oh, I don't know about that,” I told him. His hand was still on my thigh and I felt my leg begin to bounce a little. “But I needed to go in that order. To keep track of stuff.”

  “Keep track of stuff? Like what? Souvenirs? Are you keeping a scrapbook or something?”

  A giggle escaped me. “No, not souvenirs. And not a scrapbook.”

  “Okay,” he said, watching me with a puzzled expression. “Enlighten me.”

  I took a deep breath and reached for my drink but he grabbed my hand and held it firmly in his. “I'm going to all fifty states,” I repeated. My stomach twisted like a wet towel being wrung out. “To, um, do something in each of them.”

  “Okay.” He waited.

  “To do the same thing.”

  “Eat? Sleep?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “Not even close.” He waited and suddenly, the words tumbled out. “I'm going to sleep with a guy in each state.” I pulled my hand from his and grabbed the hurricane. “Excuse me. Not sleep. Fuck, according to my friend Paige. Who is a serious pain in the ass, by the way.”

  His drink was halfway to his mouth, frozen in mid-air. “You're going to what?”

  I laughed and it came out louder than I'd intended. “You heard me. And, no, I'm not getting the words screwed up this time.”

  He slowly brought the drink to his lips, his eyes fixed on me over the glass. He swallowed a mouthful, then set it back on the table. “Are you kidding me?”

  I shook my head vehemently. It had been weirdly liberating to say the words out loud, to admit to someone other than Paige and Mimi the true reason behind my trip. My parents were clueless, Paige's brother had been in the dark at the airport, and Brian probably didn't even know I'd left Vermont.

  “I'm not kidding you. Fifty states. Fifty guys. If I do it right.”

  This time, Adam was the one who laughed. “Wow. Didn't see that coming.” He eyed me curiously. “Can I ask why?”

  I thought about all the reasons Paige had thrown at me, and all the conclusions I'd come to on my own. “About a million reasons,” I said. I laid my hand on the table to steady myself a little because the second hurricane was going straight to my head. “Mainly, because I can. And because my two idiot friends talked me into it.”

  “Did they force you to get on the plane?” he asked.

  My face warmed. “Well, no.”

  He laughed again. “I didn't think so.”

  “But friends can be persuasive,” I pointed out.

  “So can I,” he murmured, reaching for my hand again. His fingers tightened around mine and he squeezed. “Well
, this is all...pretty interesting.”

  “I'm insane, right?” I said. I closed my eyes for a second. “You can say it. I don't mind.”

  “Not at all.”

  I opened my eyes and stared at him. The room spun a little. “Really?”

  “Really,” he said. “I'm all for taking life by the horns and shaking things up a little bit. And you're entitled to have a little fun. Everyone is.”

  I still wasn't convinced that having sex with fifty different guys was something I felt comfortable classifying as fun. I glanced at Adam. He was watching me, his green-gold eyes trained on mine, his mouth tilted up in a sexy smile, his cheeks slightly flushed from the alcohol. The hand on my thigh was still stroking me, his fingers lighting my skin on fire.

  Maybe I wasn't sure that sex with fifty guys was a good thing but I was pretty sure that sex with this one would be amazing.

  “Tell me something,” he said, leaning closer to me. “How much money did you have to spend on condoms?”

  I nearly choked on my straw.

  He laughed. “Sorry. Couldn't resist.”

  I shook my head but I couldn't help but smile. “I'm covered.”

  “Hopefully, I will be, too,” he said under his breath and I felt my stomach jump. He cleared his throat. “So, tell me. Has Alabama been...checked off the list yet?”

  The blood rushed to my face again, a result of both the rum I was drinking and the conversation we were having. “Not yet,” I admitted. “But I just got here, remember?”

  He lifted his hand from mine and picked up his drink. He swirled the contents and the ice clinked against the sides. “Okay, so I gotta ask,” he said. “Am I your first target?”

  I squirmed at his word choice. “I don't like that word. Target. It sounds terrible.”

  “Call it what you want,” he said. “Is that why you said yes to dinner with me?”

  I hesitated, then nodded.