One Night: A BWWM Interracial Romance (2 page)

After leaving his rather specialized unit in the service, he had taken some time off, mostly exploring the state and national parks the country had to offer, before starting up a new career. During this period he had spent his nights and weekends punching out the first installment of the series on the crappy laptop that had been second-handed to him by his sister. He had of course dramatized it based on the shit he saw in the movies and TV. The reality of saving the world was both far more mundane—and far more catastrophic—than the average person needed, or wanted, to know.
 
Six best sellers later, he was sitting in some fancy hotel drinking a glass of whiskey from a bottle that probably cost more than the laptop he had written his first book on.
 

His usual
modus operandi
was to enjoy his whiskey while staring into the fire and thinking about life. His usual
modus operandi
was
also
to enjoy it in silence…alone.
 
It gave him time to reflect on his his life and stew in it. Which was the exact opposite of what he should be doing. He had finally started to adjust to a life that was not him being prepared to jump at a moments notice to some “disturbance” going on in a part of the world tourists weren’t likely visit. He was slowly beginning to appreciate settling down…or at least his version of it.
 

He hadn’t actually thought about
settling down,
at least not in the sense that his sister would have liked. It was hard enough putting a lease on an apartment in New York and actually living in it for more than a month. He couldn’t imagine the idea of the whole picket fence, 2.3 kids, and a dog.
 
His sister, Janet had all that and it seemed ideal—for her. Sitting here in this chair, staring into the fire, thinking of his next book was about as close to perfect as his life got.
 

Such thoughts were thrust to the back of his mind as he saw the girl—
woman
—looking around for a place to sit.
 
Jake had the not so slight impression that the area he was sitting in had been her original choice to perch for the night and the mere presence of another human being had ruined those plans.
 
He could sympathize.

Still, far be it for him to ruin another individual’s enjoyment in life.
 
He was enough into his bottle to raise up his glass, encouraging her to go ahead and take a seat across from him.
 
A reassuring smile in her direction made it clear it made no never mind to him, despite that being the exact opposite of how he felt.
 

Jake had watched her pull her hair out of that rubber band and comb her fingers through it out of the corner of his eye.
 
It was nice to know he still had it. Of course, women
were
a vain species.
 
Maybe it wasn’t just him.
 

The hair framing her face was an improvement over the sloppy little bob she had moments ago. He was an expert at getting details without the target knowing they were being observed and he put those skills to use.
 

Cute face, and the cheekbones crossed the line right into sexy.
 
Those lips, though. In the few moments of their acquaintance he had seen her bite, twist, and lick them. She probably had no idea the effect that had on the opposite sex.
 

He had already had a spectacular view of her legs. Perhaps those leggings
really
weren’t such a bad idea after all. It certainly led men straight to the point.
 

Then there were the “shoes.”
 
What fashion demon cursed the human race with those things? They literally looked like furry tree stumps. Sure they looked comfortable, but at what cost? Ah well, no one was perfect. It would be nice to take a closer look and see just how imperfect this mocha-colored intrusion actually was.

Right about now he was wondering what she had to offer under that baggy sweatshirt of hers. University of Southern California. So she was a Trojan then. He smiled inwardly at the reference to a certain brand of latex.
 

And the hits just keep on comin’.

NATALIE

Natalie settled in the chair diagonal to where the stranger sat.
 
It meant being further away from the fire, which sucked, but she didn’t want to invite any conversation.
 
He didn’t have a book with him.
 
In fact, all he had was a bottle of something brown and a glass to pour it in. Just him and his infinite stare into the fire. No, she definitely didn’t want to invite conversation.
 
Moody drunks were the worst.
 

Looking at him, he had a strangely satisfied smile on his face. He had probably just got over a divorce or something. Who would divorce a man that looked like him was beyond her.
 
Then of course, there was that saying, no matter how hot a guy was, some woman was tired of his shit. Usually men said it in reference to women, but Natalie saw no reason why it shouldn’t work vice versa, especially with her experience lately.
 

Keeping her face pointed directly at the reader in front of her she rolled her eyes up to catch a better glimpse of him now that she was closer.
 

Natalie had dated white men before and she certainly had her Hollywood crushes.
 
How could anyone not fall for Michael Fassbender? This one had
 
more of an Alex Pettyfer look to him.
 
If he were older…and more rugged…and slightly more enigmatic.

Why on Earth was she trying to size this guy up? She was here to read and enjoy her grown up milk.
 

Yeah, that should help.
 
Reading an erotic romance while sitting in front of a fire with a hot guy.
 

“I don’t bite, you know,” he said, still staring into the fire, swirling the drink in his hand around in lazy circles.
 

Natalie jumped, a tiny jolt of embarrassment running through her. Had he noticed her checking him out?
 

“Come on, I know it’s gotta be hard reading that thing that far away from the fire,” he said, looking her way with a sympathetic and slightly patronizing smile.
 

“I’m fine,” she lied.
 
The reader was backlit, but it would have been so much better to be by the fire.

“I get it,” he went on. “We both wanted to have the place to ourselves. Both of us are equally shit out of luck. Though it looks like you insist on having the shorter end of the stick way over there.

“How about this, I’ll agree not to talk to you and you agree not to talk to me. Deal?” he offered.

She looked at him, debating his proposition. It would still be awkward since he had nothing to occupy him except the warm fire. Perhaps if she made a point of keeping her nose in her e-reader he’d stick to his word.
 
Maybe he’d eventually get bored and take his boozefest back to his room.
 

She shrugged and made her way to the chair directly across from him in front of the fire. As soon as she sank into the seat she realized what an uncomfortable situation she had settled into. The way the chairs were situated they were directly facing one another. In fact, from here she could see that he had to actually twist his neck to stare into the fire, otherwise he’d be looking right at her.
 

Natalie put her Baileys spiked milk on the table between them.
 
She noticed the faintly disgusted look he gave as she set it down. We can’t all be boozers, she thought with a snippy little twitch to her mouth.
 
Just to make the point, she brought it right back up and took a healthy sip, looking him straight in the eye.

The frown on his face grew deeper as he watched her. “Are you some kind of teetotaler?” he asked teasingly.
 

“What happened to not talking to one another?” she volleyed right back at him.

He put his hands up in a mea culpa surrender and turned back to the fire, ceding the point. She saw the way the corner of his mouth creeped inward, suppressing the smile that he refused to let out. By god, he actually had a tiny dimple forming!
 
Natalie wondered what it would look like if he ever bothered to indulge in a smile.
 

She left it at that and returned to
Thrust
the exciting, erotic tales of Scarlett and Blade, the alpha biker.
 
The entire book was a ridiculous, sex-filled romp…and she was loving every minute of it.
 

A few minutes later she reached down to take another sip from her glass.
 

“Sweet Jesus, I can’t watch this anymore,” she heard the voice across from her complain.

Natalie looked up at the stranger across the way with mild annoyance. He strode over to the bar, leaned over to say a few words to the bartender and came back with a glass. She put the e-reader in her lap as she watched him go through the motions of pouring a finger from his bottle into the glass and sliding it her way.

“If you’re going to imbibe, you might as well have a real drink,” he said.

Natalie looked down at the amber liquid placed before her as though it was toxic waste. She placed one index finger on the rim and pushed it right back in his direction.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” she said with a look on her face that suggested he might be somewhat out of his mind. “I don’t take drinks from strange men.”

“Am I really all that strange?” he asked with slight smile.
 

“Um, you’re drinking alone, with a full bottle, staring into the fire,” Natalie responded. “Kinda strange to me.”
 

“Well I wouldn’t be drinking alone if you accepted my gracious offer,” he said smoothly, tipping his own glass to the one on the table. “That’s a pretty good whiskey there.”
 

“I’m good,” she said, picking up her own glass in a salute.
 

“That’s not drinking,” he said, chuckling and shaking his head. “That’s what kids have with their Coco Puffs.”

“Kids who are over 21,” she responded, getting annoyed. “This isn’t just milk you know.”

“It doesn’t matter what’s in it,” he said smartly. "It's a kid's drink."

“If I take a sip will you ‘agree not talk to me if I agree not talk to you?’ ” she asked, a wee bit of sarcasm creeping into her voice. She lifted the glass up and brought it to her lips, taking a tiny sip. The liquid rested on her tongue and she could instantly sense the alcohol content.
 
It went down her throat in a rush of heat and she winced, closing her eyes and shaking her head.
 

“Nope,” she coughed out. “Not my kinda drink.”
 

She pushed the glass back in his direction.
 

"Well, it's yours now," he shrugged. "Please don't let it go to waste."

Why wouldn't this guy leave her alone?
 

She looked down at the small amount of liquid in the glass he’d given her. It had been strong…maybe just the thing she needed to cap off this weekend. She reached over, grabbed the glass off the table and upended it into her own drink.
 

"Happy now?" She asked with finality. "I'm officially an adult."
 

She wasn't sure what her drink would taste like now, but getting drunk wouldn't be such a bad thing. After all, that was an important part of Natalie's Big Cathartic Weekend Getaway with the gals. Besides, Denise was driving them back in the morning. At the very least, maybe it would put her to sleep finally.
 

She looked up at the guy with a satisfied smile that immediately faltered when she saw the look on his face. His forehead was furrowed into a deep V between two eyes that were blazing with disbelief. The entire expression was cemented with an open mouthed gape.
 

“That was about $50 worth of whiskey you just poured into your milk,” he said with an accusatory tone.
 

Natalie’s own mouth dropped open and she looked down at the spiked milk.
 

“Who the hell buys a bottle of whiskey for…?” She paused trying to do the math in her head.

“Over one thousand dollars,” he finished for her.
 

“Well, what in the world are you giving it away to strangers like—like it was
milk?
” she said, turning the fault back on him.
 

“If I’d known you were going to commit that blasphemy I would have poured it in the fire instead,” he shot back, but she could hear the smile creeping in his voice, despite his obvious consternation.
 

“Well some of us can’t afford to waste $50, so if it makes you feel better, I fully intend on finishing this,” she said, bringing it up to her lips to take a sip. “It actually doesn’t taste too bad now.”
 

She knew the last remark would get under his skin and sure enough he gave a melodramatic wince.
 

“It’s your fault for wasting on me,” she laughed, taking another sip. “This,” she lifted the glass of milk in his direction, “should have told you I’m not a heavy drinker.
 

“Unlike some people,” she noted, eying the bottle in front of him. “Speaking of which, are we celebrating or drowning our sorrows?”
 

“We are…” he paused, “celebrating I suppose. I just finished my book.
 
At least until the editors rip it a new one.”
 

A writer! Natalie’s eyes shot wide open. She worked as librarian in the Architecture Library at U.S.C. and was an avid reader. Granted, her usual fare was modern romance, and this guy didn’t exactly look like the Danielle Steele type.
 

All the same, the stranger before her had just become more interesting.
 

On the other hand, it could have been his first book and he was just hoping to get lucky. A thousand dollar bottle of liquor…she wasn’t sure what that meant. Either he was a new, hopeful novelist splurging for good luck or he was well established and could afford such an extravagant purchase. Or maybe just liked spending all his money on alcohol.