Valentine from a Soldier(2)

The bartender placed my glass of Merlot down on the counter, and I was dismayed to see the couple beside me leaving. Hopefully someone looking to chit-chat wouldn’t sit down beside me. After the three-day conference I’d just pulled off, I was getting a little tired of making small talk with strangers. Even if I didn’t bat an eye at chatting up clients and conference attendees Monday through Friday, by the time the weekend rolled around I just wanted to relax and unwind. Since going out with my girlfriends tonight wasn’t an option, I at least deserved to enjoy my wine in peace and quiet.

The barstool beside me was suddenly yanked back, and a guy in his early thirties sat down. He had short dark hair, cut in a military style, and a chiseled, masculine face. He shrugged out of his black leather jacket, and I saw that he had on a black v-neck tee shirt and well-fitting jeans that hung perfectly from his hips. Normally I didn’t like v-neck shirts on men, thinking they were too feminine, but there was no mistaking he was all male. Taking in his strong biceps, broad shoulders, and muscular chest, I noticed that he certainly filled it out in all the right places. I couldn’t help but wonder what lied beneath it and then found myself blushing and turning away before he caught me watching him. It wasn’t like me at all to go undressing a man in my mind.

He sat close since the bar was crammed full of people, and I could smell the clean scent of his soap and aftershave. When he ordered a beer, his deep, sexy voice had my mind spinning in circles. Could this guy be any hotter? And why tonight of all nights, when I just needed a break and desperately wanted to be left alone, had he sat down beside me? I took a sip of my wine, wishing that I’d ordered a shot of tequila instead. Then I could have quickly thrown back my drink and gone. If I stayed to finish my glass of Merlot, I’d almost certainly have to say something to him. We were, after all, the only two people seated at the bar who seemed to be here alone. Was I supposed to sit by his side and ignore him all evening?

The stranger beside me finally glanced over my way, and I looked up into his piercing blue eyes. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hit on you,” he said in his deep voice.

I laughed, thinking that was in fact the cheesiest pick-up line I’d ever heard, but he had a look of complete seriousness about him. He wasn’t leaning closer to me, invading my personal space; he didn’t have a twinkle of mischief in those blue eyes. If he was trying to pick me up he wasn’t even very good at it. Well, aside from the devastatingly handsome part. “Okay,” I said with a shrug, glancing down at my phone as it beeped again.

No worries, Sar. Get back as soon as you can!

I sighed. Even though I hated that nickname and always went by Sarah, Morgan was the only one who could get away with calling me that.

“Been stood up?” the guy next to me asked.

“As a matter of fact, I’m the one standing someone up.”

He raised his eyebrows, probably wondering why I was sitting here talking to him when I obviously had other plans.

“My best friend,” I explained, trying not to stare as my eyes traveled over his features—full lips, strong jaw. Yes, this guy was attractive and certainly knew it.

“What, did you two get in a fight or something?” he asked, taking a swig of his beer.

“No,” I said with a laugh. “I just shouldn’t even be here right now.”

“So what are you doing sitting by yourself at a bar? Go grab a cab and meet her.”

Yeah, he definitely couldn’t be hitting on me if he was already encouraging me to leave. Maybe he really wasn’t looking to meet anyone either. “It’d be a long ride to Chicago,” I said wistfully.

He laughed, catching on that there was more to the story. “That does complicate things,” he mused, a friendly smile finally reaching his blue eyes. I liked seeing the twinkle in them and wondered what his story was. If he wasn’t here to hit on women, then what was he doing at a popular touristy bar? Certainly the locals had their own hangouts that didn’t involve hotels filled with vacationers. Was he just traveling around by himself? He looked like he was in the military with his short haircut and chiseled physique. Maybe he was on leave or something, just passing through.

He was still gazing at me with those baby blues, so I finally replied. “Yeah, it’s kind of ruining my evening.”

“I can see how that would be a problem,” he agreed. “Snowstorm, right?”

“So you’ve been watching the news.”

“Afraid so.”

Thankfully he was about as chatty as I felt right now—not peppering me with questions or awful one-liners, just making casual conversation. I liked that about him—he seemed in no hurry to get to know me better, like it didn’t matter to him if he we talked or not. I could probably ask him to leave me alone and he’d be more than happy to sit there nursing his beer without so much as another word.