“If you’re offering,” I answer her with a flirtatiousness I don’t recognize. She blushes and tucks her hair back behind her ear. As she pulls her eyes away from me, she catches a glimpse of something across the room that rips the happiness from her in an instant.

I throw back the shot but keep my eyes on her. The cold liquid burns. I was right about it being tequila. It’s strong too. Stronger than I expected and it takes the breath from me, making my chest feel tight, but then it relaxes me all the way down.

I hold up two fingers for Patricia. “Another two,” I say and stand, sliding the stool I’d been sitting on over to Jules. “I took your shot so it’s only fair,” I say. Instantly, her eyes come back to me.

I watch as they swirl with a mix of questions. Vulnerability is clearly present and that only makes her that much more enticing.

“I’m not sure I should,” she says softly. Her honesty is so raw, so genuine.

“You really shouldn’t,” I say with complete honesty as well. She deserves that much. She’s Little Red Riding Hood in fuck-me heels and I’m worse than the Big Bad Wolf. I lean forward, knowing I’m breaking every rule I have as I bring my lips just inches from the shell of her ear.

Her fingers tighten on the edge of the stool as I whisper, “But you want to. And this is so much better than whatever you were going to do.” I’m not sure if what I said is meant more for her or for me, but either way, I’ve convinced myself.

My rough voice and hot breath make goosebumps trail down her shoulder. Her nipples pebble under her dress, just barely becoming noticeable beneath the expensive fabric that graces her skin. I pull away from her, offering her space and an out.

She could leave if she wanted to. She could walk away. Fuck, she could call me an asshole and I’d sit here and do my best to pretend I’ll never go after her again.

It takes a moment for Jules to pull herself together. She sits there in what seems like a daze. It’s only when Patricia sets down the shot glasses, spilling just a touch of the chilled tequila, that she meets my gaze again.

I take the one closest to Jules and hold it out to her. She keeps her eyes on me but accepts it.

“Here’s to things we know we shouldn’t do,” I say with a smile, lifting my glass and extending it for a toast.

Slowly, so very slowly, that bit of happiness comes back to her. Her eyes keep flickering with uncertainty to the floor and across the room.

“Here’s to doing what makes us happy,” she says, forcing her shoulders back straight as she clinks her glass against mine and then downs every drop. She slams her glass on the bar while I’m left holding mine and watching her every move.

I toss it back as she picks up her clutch, obviously ready to pay for the shots.

“Don’t.” There’s more strength in my voice than I should have used. I soften my tone as I tell her, “It’s on me.” I hesitate then add, “I was just getting ready to leave.”

She watches me cautiously, but I look toward the bartender as I get out my wallet. All the while paying attention to Jules in my periphery.

“Well, thank you … what’s your name?” she asks.

“Mason,” I answer her hoping she’s never heard of me, but she brightens and nods her head.

“Thatcher. Yes, I thought I recognized you.” She bites the inside of her cheek as something occurs to her and her expression falls slightly. “I’m sorry to hear—”

“To happiness, right?” I say, cutting off her apology, then pass my card to Patricia. It hurts me to say the words, but I don’t bother to hide it.

That only makes her frown, somehow making her appear even more beautiful and alluring. We’re both in pain. Both getting over something. Only this shit I did to myself whereas she’s collateral damage.

She turns to the bar again, the playfulness gone.

“To happiness, and to the things we want,” I tell her as I sign the receipt and leave the pen on the bar. I spear my fingers through my hair, feeling the heat of the moment and the buzz of the liquor starting to affect me.

I glance at her and watch as she closes her eyes. It’s affecting her too. She’s easy prey—beautiful, naive, innocent. I’m an asshole for doing this, but I can’t help that I want her. Her eyes haunt me, but her body tempts me.

“I’m going to get out of here.” I let my hungry gaze roam down her sexy curves, not hiding what I want from her in the least. “You want to come with?”

Julia

To happiness, and to the things we want.

Mason’s words echo in my ears. I know I’m buzzed, but the odd mix of anxiety and relaxation running through me are from something else. It’s the realization that I’m at a crossroads. I’m standing in front of an open door and I know that going through will change everything. It would put my world into motion again, moving me forward, shoving me from the stagnant place I’ve been in these last few months.

There would be no way to go back, but there’s no telling who I’d be once I’m on the other side. My body is ringing with desire and adrenaline.

Mason Thatcher. I’ve heard of the handsome devil. The pictures I’ve seen don’t do his broad shoulders and muscular frame justice. The rough stubble on his jaw begs me to reach up and brush my fingertips against it. He’s tall, dark and handsome … and a notorious player. A man I shouldn’t be caught dead talking to. My husband would have killed me for having drinks with a man like Mason.

But Jace has left me all alone. And Mason’s so much more than I thought I could want in a man.

I rip my eyes from his hard body. Although he’s in a suit, I noticed his hands first, rough and callused. It’s clear they’re from years of hard work, something the men in here know little about. Actual manual labor.

I try to relax and casually lean against the bar, slipping my pointer finger into one of the empty shot glasses and forcing it onto its side. I don’t know why and it probably makes me appear drunker than I am, but I don’t care.

“Mason, do you like tequila?” I ask him and this time when I speak, there’s a bit of flirtatiousness in my voice. Guilt weighs heavily in my chest, but only briefly before the alcohol drifting into my blood numbs the memories. I’ve been alone for too long. I can have him for a night. Just one night.

Mason’s steel gray eyes roam over the curves of my waist and ass. He’s bold, licking his lips and then taking a step forward to lean against the bar with me. He’s close enough that the heat of his body makes me that much hotter.

I want to know what it would be like for a man like him to pin me beneath him. To take me how he wants me. I close my eyes as a warm flush rises into my cheeks from the intensity of his stare.

“I do,” he replies and his voice is low and rough. It does bad things to me. I rest my head in my hand, both loving and hating the way the alcohol soothes the pain.

This isn’t me moving on, but I’m ready to feel something else. My brow pinches at his response when I look back at him, but then I realize he’s just answering my question about whether or not he likes tequila. I’m a bit more than tipsy but I’m still here and present, and I know what I want.