I have to grin. “Okay, I guess that’s fair. I like cats, but I’m horribly allergic. So I write about them instead. What about the two of you? What do you do?”
“A little of this, a little of that,” Declan replies evasively. Blake gives him a sidelong look, his eyebrows raised, but doesn’t say anything.
Okay, be that way. Our burgers have arrived, and I’m starving. They can keep their secrets; I’m far more interested in my food.
It’s around my third drink—and yes, I remember I was supposed to drink only one, thanks for noticing—that I realize I’m having a really good time.
Blake and Declan are well-traveled. I’m quite proud that I’ve visited ten countries, but when we compare numbers, Declan has me beat by a mile. “Sixty?” My mouth falls open as I stare at him. “You’ve been to sixty countries? How is that possible? How much vacation do you get anyway?”
He chuckles at my indignant expression. “A lot of it is for work,” he says. “I lived in Europe for two years in my twenties, and I spent every weekend traveling to a different country.”
Blake’s blue eyes twinkle. “There’s nothing wrong with your number, Lana,” he says, the double-entendre clear.
“But if you want to add to it,” Declan adds, his tone suggestive, “we’re happy to help.”
Lana’s Sex Bucket List. Item 4: Kiss a guy at a bar.
“Help?” I gaze up at them innocently, pretending I have no idea what they’re talking about. “How exactly do you suggest helping?”
Declan’s lips twitch, and those sexy dimples flash into view. I have to dig my nails into my palms in order to stop myself from falling all over him. Would it be terrible if I reached out with my pinkie finger and traced that indentation? That’s not wrong, right?
Should have stopped drinking after the first beer, Lana.
Declan winks at me. “You wanted to go to Rio, right? My friend Yasmin loves showing people around her city. Want her phone number?”
Well, that’s a whole lot of ice-water on my raging hormones. Then again, Declan just winked at me. Hello, mixed messages.
And this is why you stay in your room, working on an article or reading smutty books on your phone, Lana. That’s also why you’ve never been picked up at a bar.
Hailey flirts like it’s second nature to her. Me? I’m far more awkward. “Umm, sure thing,” I murmur, bending down to grab the handbag that I unceremoniously shoved under the table when we walked in. I pull my trusty spiral-bound notebook out and open it to the first free page. A sheet of paper flutters to the ground. “What’s her number?”
Declan doesn’t reply right away. He bends to pick up the sheet, and my heart stops beating.
Because he’s holding my Sex Bucket List in his hands.
And judging from the way his eyes widen, he’s reading it.
Ouch.
A slow smile spreads across his face. “Writers are far more interesting than I would have imagined,” he says, handing the sheet to Blake, who takes it from him with a raised eyebrow. “Don’t you think, Blake?”
My cheeks go hot with embarrassment.
Blake scans the list and looks up, his eyes dancing with merriment. “You have threesomes on here twice,” he points out.
My only option is to tough it out. I lift my head up and look steadily at the two men. “Can I have my list back?”
“Of course.” Blake hands it to me. “And if you’re interested in crossing items off your bucket list,” he says, his voice silky-smooth, “Declan and I are happy to help you out.”
Work-Lana would decline, sternly reminding herself that she’s here for a story and nothing else.
I’m tired of Work-Lana. She never has any fun. A devil-may-care attitude fills me. These guys want to up the ante? I’m in. “Yeah right,” I scoff. “Sure. You’re all gung-ho now, but any suggestion of your swords touching and I bet you twenty bucks that you’ll run away in panic.”
Declan wordlessly takes a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet and sets it on the table.
“You’re joking,” I say flatly.
Blake chuckles. “What’s the matter, Lana? You don’t think we can live up to your expectations?” He winks at me. “I promise you; we’ll work hard to rise to the challenge.”
Bad puns. I know I’m not dreaming—there’s no way my imagination could produce a pun that groan-worthy—but it does nothing to make them less attractive in my eyes. Evidently, my dry spell has been more desert-like than I’ve realized.
“Tell you what,” Declan’s voice cuts in. “We don’t have to jump into the deep end of the pool. You want to kiss a guy at a bar, right?” He spreads his hands wide. “Here we are.”
He doesn’t think I’m going to do it. Neither of them does.
Lifting my chin up, I grope for my purse and pull a twenty-dollar bill out, secretly thankful I had the good sense to go to the ATM before I left Portland. Then I lean forward and wrap my fingers around Blake’s shirt. I know why I pick him—he seems less dangerous.
Of course, the moment I breathe in the scent of him, a faint cologne, laced with beer and masculinity, I change my mind. My heart starts beating in my chest at the smoldering, heated expression in his eyes. “What a good idea this is,” he says softly, closing the gap between our lips.
And he kisses me.
His hand curls around the back of my neck, drawing me in. His tongue traces the outline of my lips, and then he deepens the kiss.
Smart-Lana makes one last effort to inject some common sense into the proceedings. This is a dreadful idea. You don’t know these men at all.
I don’t care. My fingers run over his chest and over his biceps, feeling those rock-hard muscles. The blood pounds in my veins, and I open my mouth to his exploring tongue. My insides throb as he kisses me, slowly, as if he has all the time in the world.
This is surreal.
“Ahem.” We’re interrupted when the bartender clears his throat, looking acutely embarrassed. “Sorry, man,” he apologizes to Blake. “I don’t mean to cock block you, but it’s closing time.”
I slide back to my seat, still in a haze of lust. “But it’s just eleven,” I hear Declan say.
The bartender laughs. “It’s a small town,” he says. “There aren’t enough people to be open until midnight, let alone two. You guys want separate checks?”
“Yes,” I reply. “No,” both guys say at the same time.
The bartender moves away. Declan surveys me with hungry eyes. “You could kiss two strangers at a bar,” he suggests. “Or, you could invite us to your room.” His voice lowers. “Invite us to your room, Lana,” he urges softly. “You won’t regret it.”
Oh, I doubt that. No matter how hard I want to pretend, I know I’m not good at casual sex. I get attached. Feelings happen.
I’m in Goat for two months, tops. Blake, going by what I heard earlier, is here for a month, and Declan could leave at any moment. Common sense comes rushing back in. “I’m sorry,” I mutter, not meeting their eyes. “I shouldn’t have led you on. I’m going to leave.”
Then I flee across the street and make a beeline for my room.
No. More. Beer.
Ever.