A Is for Alpha Male (5 page)

“What’s wrong with a beach bar, Haley? Look at all these guys. They’re hot,” she said gesturing inconspicuously at all of the shirtless hotties in front of us.

“Yeah, you’re right. They are hot,” I said checking them out and lingering on their bodies with earnest. “But I can almost guarantee they’re also as dumb as rocks.”

My mom scoffed and said, “That is such a discriminatory statement, Haley! How do you know these guys fit the stereotype?”

Ah, Allison’s good nature was making an appearance. I decided to defect to her emotions this time. “Alright, you’re right. But I’m not going to a beach bar the first night. We’ll drive inland a few miles, find some kind of small town bar, and hit that tonight. Depending on how it is, we can go to a beach bar tomorrow night.”

Where they would no doubt be doing body shots and smoking weed in the bathroom. Both fine and dandy but activities meant for a few years ago.

“Okay, fine. But that means one of us will have to be sober enough to drive home.”

Laughing at the absurd fun of that statement, I comforted, “Don’t you worry about that,
Mom
. I’ll be your DD tonight. You can get as sloshed as you want.”

Allison rolled her eyes and then pointed them back at her kindle, effectively blocking my smart ass out.

Changing the subject, I asked, “Which book are you reading?”

Allison barely looked up, and her face held what I assumed was anger about being interrupted.

“
At Peace
.”

I understood. I got the whole don’t talk to me while my kindle is out and open rule, but I continued to talk to her anyway. Mostly because what she said had struck a match inside me. Pulled a trigger if you will. Ripped out the pin of the grenade.

“Let me get this straight. You made fun of me for talking about finding my own Joe Callahan, but now you’re engaged in a re-read of the very same story.”

“Yeah, he’s very lovable. I wasn’t insulting him, I was just making note of how that much emotional damage in real life might not transfer quite the same way. And when you mentioned it the other day, you got me thinking about him.”

Well, damn. There really wasn’t anything I could say to that.
At Peace
was one of my very favorite KA books, and what she said was damn true. Joe
was
lovable
and
damaged.

Therefore, doing something I very rarely did, I kept my mouth shut.

And then I took out my kindle and opened it to the very same book.

AS WE WALKED into the rustic, slightly country little bar named “The Cabin”, I couldn’t help but feel reminiscent.

That is, if you can be reminiscent of a place you’ve only visited fictionally, through the eyes of a character.

As someone who very nearly
became
the character who narrated the story, I absolutely believed you could. And by those standards, I was also starting to become a pretty big slut.

“I feel like I should be calling ‘Here, Tatum Jackson’ and then making all sorts of kissy noises like I’m calling a dog walking into a place like this.”

It wasn’t a biker bar, but it had that same feel. Rustic and barebones, and filled to the hilt with all of its regulars. I could only hope they would be welcoming of us as outsiders.

“I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work like that,” Allison stated blandly.

Yeah, I didn’t think so either. If only it were that easy.

Careful not to touch anyone or look at anyone too closely, we made our way through the crowd. Attention wasn’t something we wanted...yet. We needed time to have a drink and mentally prepare.

We both took up spots at the bar, parking our butts on the empty stools we found. Visually, we were ready, looking casual but sexy and ready for anything.

At least, that’s what I was telling myself.

I had on some denim cutoffs with my favorite cowgirl boots, and a figure-hugging lavender tank top that boasted a scoop neck. My mom had on one of her favorite pairs of medium wash jeans and a royal blue tank of the deep v-neck variety. We both had on our standard jewelry—chunky watches, necklaces that hung long, and earrings in every available hole in our ears. What set me apart was the lavender ponytail holder that took up permanent residence on my wrist, a just-in-case so that I could always pull my long, sepia-colored hair up off of my neck.

As a person prone to heat stroke, being able to get my hair off my neck and air to a much needed area was rule numero uno.

It had only taken us twenty or so minutes to find this place and get here, but Allison was fidgety. I suspected this was because she really was more conservative than me, so I figured going through our list of qualities would be the perfect way to distract her. “Okay, Mom. Let’s go through the list one more time. We need to be on our game, so the list needs to be second nature.”

“Good idea,” she agreed easily, some color coming back into her faintly pale cheeks.

Without preamble, I started into the list knowing she would be ready for the volleying back and forth. Sometimes it seemed like we operated out of one brain, so it was no surprise when she was on the same page.

“Alpha male,” I declared proudly.

The lights of the bar flashed in her eyes, and I thought for probably the hundredth time of the day that my mom was a goddamn knock out. I could only hope to look that good at her age.

“Badass,” she added.

Smiling, I continued, “Cool name.”

“Dangerous,” she supplied, and I could tell she was right on the verge of losing the battle with her hilarity.

And just like that, we were engrossed in our task, paying no attention to the people and goings on around us.

In the span of no more than thirty seconds we ran through the list, going back and forth and barely taking the time to breathe.

“Experienced.”

“Funny.”

“Gorgeous.”

“Hard body!”

“Intelligent.”

“Junk,” she whispered, lowering her voice with embarrassment.

“Kissing expert,” I added through my smile.

“Loving.”

“Manly with a motorcycle!” I said with excitement.

“Nickname giver.”

“One woman man.”

“Protective.”

“Quiet until there’s something good to say.”

We had been sticking to just the list, but she got bold and added, “That’s right, let us do the talking!”

I shook my head, but went ahead and handled the next letter for her. “Romantic.”

“Sexy.”

“Tattooed.”

“Understands the quirkiness that is us.”

“Virile. Oh, yeah. Virile for sure.”

My mom scrunched her nose at my enthusiasm, but kept going, “Wonders where we’ve been all of his lonely life.”

“X-rated skills and young at heart.”

“Zealous about us,” Allison finally finished.

“Excellent. Good thing we remember he needs to be zealous. Wouldn’t want to forget that,” I teased.

“Hey, Z was a hard letter,” my mom defended.

I nodded my agreement and said, “Yeah, I know. We wouldn’t want him to be a zebra. Or maybe have a zebra striped tattoo on his penis or something.
That
would be really bad.”

My mom just gave me the look. You know the one. It conveys, “Seriously?” without having to speak the words. Ignoring her, I kept on talking. “Now that we’ve refreshed our memories, let’s loosen up a little bit,” I declared.

“What do you want to do? Stretch? I think I’m confused. Are we working out or trying to pick up men?”

“Well, first of all, to answer your question...neither. We’re here to have a good time. That is always the number one goal of Allison and Haley’s Great Adventure. Got me?”

“Yeah, yeah. I “got” you. What are you turning into an Alpha male yourself?”

“I don’t appreciate the attitude, Allison,” I added with a huff. “If guys are interested, that’s just a bonus. I am woman. I am strong. Or in this case, we are women. Though, it really doesn’t convey the same emotion in the plural.”

Allison’s entire body was stagnant, the picture of stillness. Except her right eyebrow arched and climbed to an unbelievable height on her forehead. I had always been impressed with her talent. I couldn’t get one eyebrow to make the journey without the other.

“Alright, alright. I got off target again. How do you say so much with that one little eyebrow, Woman?”

Once again met with silence, I finally got to the point. “As far as loosening up, I meant alcohol.....Shot time!”

Two shots of Fireball and five drunken, slovenly men later, I found myself watching the back of man number six disappear as he headed for the bathrooms.

He was tall and handsome, made eye contact, and was at least showing some interest in my personality in addition to my body.

Okay, so his name wasn’t cool, but that wasn’t really a big deal. Tom seemed like a genuinely nice guy. And being realistic, concentration on a spot anywhere above my nipples counted for major points these days.

And Allison was over on the other side of the bar, still in my line of sight mind you, chatting up her very own contingent of admirers.

As I thought it over and decided to give it a go, a low, sexy voice filled my ear from behind me.

“Tsk, tsk. Only one night in and you’re already lowering your standards and straying from the list? I expected more backbone from you.”

That got under my skin, and accordingly, I bristled, “How do you know we’ve only been at this for a night?” while turning around to face the holder of the baritone voice behind me.

A smile lit his face and it completely transformed him. Twin dimples popped out on both sides of his face, just barely managing to play peek-a-boo under a couple days of scruff. His hair was long enough to curl around his neck, was chocolate brown in color, and held natural highlights that a woman would pay good money for. He, however, was hiding most of it under a backward, black, fitted baseball cap.

His eyes were sparkling with mischief, and if you didn’t look closely you could mistake them to be amber in color. But oh no, they were better than that, a brilliant wheat-like gold in the center ensconced in a barrier of rich green around the outside.

I guess that meant they were hazel. But shit, they were the best depiction of hazel I had ever seen. If hazel eyed people had meetings, he would definitely be their regional representative.

Maybe even national.

Jesus, how had I not noticed him before this moment?

He’d been here the whole damn night. He was the bartender, or so it would appear. It was either that or he was taking quite the liberties going back there to get his own drink.

I must have even ordered our drinks
from
him for Christ sakes.

And to top it all off, I had to crane my neck upward to look at him from my bar stool, so by guestimation, I would say he came in at around six feet, three inches or so. That was a whole lot of man to miss.

It’s amazing how in your own world you can be.

“Touché. I guess I don’t, but it sure seems like it. You’ve still got that wholly optimistic glow,” he told me, snapping me out of my reverie slash hotness factor perusal.

Avoiding that and moving on, I questioned, “So I guess you heard the list, huh?” After a nod of confirmation I added, “And you remember it?”

He smiled, shook his head, and informed me, “Oh yeah.” His eyes were pointed downward but the feeling expressed in them was intense and rueful. Looking back up and looking me right in the eye, he continued, “You know how they say an elephant never forgets?” Without waiting for my answer, he went ahead and finished, “Well, I never ever fucking forget.”

My recently waxed brow attempted to arch in response, and he must have gotten the message despite my lack of prowess, because he didn’t waste any time filling me in. “I have one of those hyperactive memories. Literally remember everything. Day, time, location, event. If I was there or I paid witness to it, I remember it.”

My head inclined slightly to the side, a subconscious act of compassion, as I murmured, “A blessing and a curse.”

Genuine surprise overwhelmed his features as he murmured, “Most people only see the blessings.”