her accounting job had seemed like the right thing to do two months ago, but now she was having serious doubts. At the time, she’d been passed over for yet another promotion and had finally asked her boss why she was always being rejected for promotions at the firm she’d always given her best to.
You play it too safe to handle the bigger clients, Hannah, her boss had told her. They need someone who can think outside the box, find creative solutions.
Too safe?
She hadn’t been aware that being sensible or responsible was a bad thing in financial management, she fumed for the thousandth time as she tore into a rib.
Well, she’d shown them. She’d quit. That was hardly playing it safe, right? Neither was taking off around the country to explore her options and try to start a new career. Now she was operating completely outside the box.
Take that, she grumped as she licked the spicy, smoky sauce from her fingers and then took another from the plate. She’d missed lunch while working on her photo blog, Hannah’s Great Adventure, which so far hadn’t been very adventurous at all.
It wasn’t that she hadn’t tried, but adventure and risk taking had never come naturally to her.
She eyed the few comments she did have on her blog.
Nice.
Pretty.
Then there was the one that asked if she had any pictures of herself, and when would she come to his town?
Ugh. That was not the kind of adventure she was looking for.
Unfortunately, though she was active on social media and always posting on her blog, traffic was low. But she was still new at this, right? It would take time to establish and make a name for herself.
Sighing, she pushed the plate aside and bolstered her resolve as she pulled the laptop back, front and center. At least she could finish an assignment for the online writing course she was taking. Years as an accountant had left her writing skills somewhat rusty.
Just as her concentration took hold, someone slid into the seat opposite her.
“You don’t like the ribs?”
A gorgeous guy, complete with a sexy Southern accent and a wicked smile, looked at her inquiringly, making her mind stutter for a moment.
“Um, no, they’re wonderful,” she replied, and then saw the shirt he was wearing had the name of the bar stamped over one well-defined pectoral muscle.
“Well, I thought I should check, as you pushed the plate away. I have to make sure customers are satisfied, especially the pretty ones,” he said with a sexy wink, making her laugh.
He was flat-out gorgeous and charming to boot. And flirting with her. Suddenly her blog wasn’t all that interesting.
“Thanks,” she said, cringing inwardly as she wished she was a better flirt.
“My name’s Jarvis,” he said, holding his hand out. “You work nearby? Or are you a student at the university?” He looked at the laptop inquiringly.
She took his hand, finding his grasp pleasant and warm, strong but not smothering. Hannah let him hold on for another second or two, and liked the gentle squeeze he offered at the end.
“Neither. I’m a photojournalist. Well, I want to be one. It was something I wanted to do in college, but never followed through on. So I’m taking a year to travel the country to explore, to...blog. Try to develop, you know, a focus...or something,” she said, realizing she was babbling and stopping before she made a real fool of herself. This guy wasn’t really interested in her life history, she was sure.
“So you’re only passing through?” Jarvis asked with even more pronounced interest this time. Clearly not looking for commitment, which was fine with her.
Hannah was about to respond when a sportscast from one of the televisions positioned all around the bar caught her eye, stealing her attention away from her companion.
Brody.
Supersize on the screen, the stock-car champion’s image still made her catch her breath. Well, former racing champion. It seemed as though there was always something around reminding her of him. A magazine cover, a news item or a fan wearing his number on a T-shirt or on a sticker on their car, even after his retirement six months ago.
She couldn’t hear the story, but the picture they showed was from a year before, shortly after she’d parted ways with him. The headline noted five drivers who had recently left the track.
“You’re into racing?” Jarvis asked, watching her watch Brody.
Hannah tore her gaze from the screen.
“Oh, no, not so much. I... He’s a, um...a friend. But we haven’t seen each other in a while.”
“You keep interesting company.”
Once. Once, she’d kept company for a wild month with Brody Palmer, and it was one of the best experiences of her life. Her only true adventure, ever.
She smiled at Jarvis, trying to get Brody out of her mind.
Hannah didn’t have a whole lot of experience picking up men in bars, or letting them pick her up—but things were different now. Or at least, she wanted them to be.
She focused on Jarvis. He was real, and right here in front of her. Not an image on TV or a memory from the past. Maybe the sexy bartender was exactly what she needed in order to make some new, adventurous memories.
“I planned to leave tomorrow, but I’m flexible,” she said, proud of her own flirtatious innuendo, taking a sip of her beer and peeking at him over the top of her glass.
Fifteen minutes later, they were kissing in his office.
It turned out Jarvis owned the bar, which was an added bonus, since he had a very nice office with a delicious leather couch and a large desk. Hannah had a feeling they might make use of both. Right now, he was wrapped around her with his warm, strong hands finding their way up to her bra strap.
Jarvis moved fast, and Hannah let him, trying to enjoy what this hot guy was doing to her and not letting the image of Brody’s face on the TV screen—and the memories of his kiss, and his touch—ruin her fun.
But it was too late.
All she could think of was Brody. What was he doing since he retired? She’d considered contacting him, but it didn’t seem wise.
As Jarvis was trailing his lips lower, her mind wandered.
Maybe Brody would like to see an old friend? Maybe...he could help her out? Be her first real, exciting story for her blog?
Why not? She was trying to write about something exciting—and the most exciting person she’d ever known was only about eight hours away.
Would he see her? Would he talk to her?
What if he said no?
