"It looked very entertaining?" he says, grinning at me. I think he likes drunk Kelli. I like drunk Kelli too. She's far braver than normal Kelli.
"Well, we couldn't hear you, but you were rather animated. I'm sure it is an outstanding story," I say, leaning forward with my elbows on the bar, pushed together to make it impossible to ignore my cleavage.
He indulges for a moment and looks at my chest. I watch him closely and I see a little flare of arousal light his eyes. Oh yeah, this is so happening!
"Ian," I say abruptly, straightening. "I need your help with something." I indicate my head toward the kitchen as I push away from the bar. "Rae, I'll be right back."
"Go get ‘em, Tiger!" she grins at me. By this time Sean has seen her and is down on our side of the bar.
"Hey, Rachel! How are you? I'm glad we get to see you one more time before you head out. Can I get you something?" he says. Boy, oh boy, he's got it badly! But who can blame him? Rachel's a goddess!
I'm on a mission though, so I make a beeline for the kitchen door. I half expected to see Pappy inside with Tracey out of town and Ian having given me the night off, but the kitchen is empty. I walk over to where Ian and I had our encounter, just a week ago, and hop up on the table.
He enters then, and immediately slows, eyeing me suspiciously. "What's up, Kel?"
I lean back, balancing on my arms and pushing my chest into the air, trying to look coy. "Nothing much," I say with what I hope is a sexy half grin. Considering how much I've had to drink, I probably look more like a stroke patient, but I push that thought from my head and focus on Ian.
He's standing in front of me, hands shoved deep into his pockets. "Kel, I'm not sure what's going on in that pretty head of yours, but you've had a lot to drink and I'm betting you aren't thinking straight."
I smile at him. "I love it when you call me pretty."
He softens for a moment and takes a step towards me. Placing his hands on either side of my hips, he leans in and says, "You are very, very pretty. Beautiful, in fact."
I beam at him for a moment, and then I lean forward and my hands move up to cup his cheeks. With my thumbs stroking his cheekbones, I say, "And you are the most beautiful man I've ever seen. You're even more handsome than the guys in my fantasies. Of course, now, you are the man in my fantasies."
He looks like he wants to believe me and yet somehow doesn't. "Kel … " he starts. I love that he keeps calling me Kel, but I can tell he is about to shut me down so I don't give him a chance. With my hands still on his cheeks, I cover his mouth with mine. Instead of opening immediately, I wait this time; wait for him to join the kiss. A moment passes and I'm afraid he is just going to stand there. Finally, he shifts, stepping into me and putting his hands on my hips, drawing me closer. He opens his mouth and his tongue gently caresses mine.
When we kissed before, it was hot and frantic. And while I want him more than I can express, this time is slower, more relaxed. I'm fully aroused, but the alcohol seems to have damped my normal urgency. He takes the kiss deeper, moving one of his hands behind my head and pressing our mouths together even more firmly. His tongue plunges further into my mouth and I hum my approval.
Faintly, I hear what sounds like someone clearing their throat. The noise is quickly forgotten as Ian rolls his hips in between my legs, causing my inner muscles to clench sharply.
"Ah, Kelli?" a voice says, hesitating before continuing. "Rachel's outside puking in the gutter."
I break the kiss and look over Ian's shoulder to see Hal standing there looking extremely uncomfortable.
"Fuck!" I say. Ian has already moved out of the way, so I hop down and follow Hal out. As I reach the door, I turn around and look back at him. He's got both hands on the table again, and his head is hanging down between his shoulders. He takes a deep breath, and then another.
"Ian?" I say, unsure of what's happening with him.
He raises his head and turns to look over his shoulder with a weak smile. "I'm good, Kelli, go take care of Rachel." With that he stands up and turns around, his face set into bartender mode. My response time still rather muddled by the alcohol, he actually passes out of the kitchen before me, leaving me staring at his retreating back. Damn Rachel! I am going to kill you for this!
******
"Don't go!" I wail early the next morning. "I haven't gotten enough Rachel time. Please, please, please stay! Your kids don't need you - I need you more!"
She's finished packing her bag and moves to give me a hug. "Oh Sweetie, I know, I miss you already. But I have to go home. Dan will kill me if I don't get back and help him with the kids."
I nod, knowing she's right. Dan's a real champ; Rachel travels a lot for work and he gets left taking care of their two kids by himself. I know she has to go home, I just don't want her to go.
"Promise to come back and visit soon, okay?" I ask pathetically.
"I will! And until I can, or you come visit me, we'll Skype, and email, and text. Besides, I wouldn't be surprised if pretty soon you were too busy with a particularly handsome pub owner to even remember you have a best friend!" she says.
I shake my head. "I don't know Rae, I doubt it. Although, I might be a step closer if you could handle your alcohol!" I can't help but tease her about last night.
"Oh my god, shut up! I swear, I'm never going to drink again!" she says melodramatically.
Her phone beeps, indicating her Uber is out front. We walk out together and I try not to cry. I slept like crap, I'm confused about Ian, and I'm massively hung over. In short, I'm a mess.
"Have a safe flight, honey, and thank you for visiting me," I say, giving her a hug.
"Love you," she says.
"Love you too," I reply.
Then she's off. I spend the rest of the day curled up on my couch eating Häagen-Dazs and watching movie adaptations of Jane Austen novels.
Chapter 6: I Didn't Want to Know
I've been moping around since Rachel left on Sunday morning. It is Monday afternoon and I can't muster a smile for the life of me.
"That's it," Ian declares. "Pappy, call Sean. You and Tracey are running the bar tonight." He strides across the floor, disappearing into the kitchen.
Pappy and I exchange confused looks as Ian reappears with my purse and sweater in his hands.
"Where are we going?" I ask.
"Malibu," Ian says, offering nothing further.
Considering I'd follow him through the gates of hell, I don't really feel the need to push. I grab my stuff from his hands and follow him to his truck.
If I had stopped to consider what Ian would drive, I'm not sure I would have picked a truck, and yet, somehow it fit. He is so innately masculine that anything less would seem inadequate. Well, maybe a Harley would be okay. Hmmmm, Ian on a Harley … with me on the back, my thighs pressing into his waist, my breasts molded to his back. Dammit brain, think of something else! For even though the tension between us had dissipated during Rachel's visit, it was clear that "we" were never going to be and I had to come to terms with that. The sooner, the better.
A beep lets me know he unlocked the doors remotely and instead of heading to the driver's side, as usual Ian walks to my door and opens it. I hop in, stashing my purse down by my feet and turn to close the door, but he's already doing it. I love a man who both opens, and closes, my door. Damn him!
He jogs over to his side and jumps in as I buckle up. Getting his own seatbelt on, he starts the ignition and Metallica's One comes blaring through the speakers.
"I love this song!" I scream over the guitar and get ready for the section of the song that absolutely must be head banged to. He smiles over at me, the most comfortable I've seen him in a week, and together we do our best James Hetfield imitations. The song ends, and he pulls out into traffic, turning off the stereo.
We go a few miles, turning off onto PCH. The silence in the cab isn't stifling, but it isn't exactly comfortable. Casting around for something to talk about, I spy his tattoo on the underside of his left forearm.
Embracing the opportunity to finally ask about it, I say, "Tell me about your tat."
His brow quickly furrows and he stays silent. Okay, that was obviously the wrong thing to say. But in my defense, why would you get a tattoo in a visible place if you weren't prepared to answer questions about it? I mean, come on!