Emily raised her shot glass, the cheap tequila sloshing dangerously close to the rim. "Another round for us ladies," she announced with a crooked grin. "Care to join, mystery man?"
Lucas' eyes crinkled with amusement as he regarded the two women. The dim bar lighting cast shadows across his rugged features, making him look even more intriguing. "Isn't it a bit odd, drinking with someone old enough to be your father?"
Emily's heart skipped a beat. Fuck, he was hot for an older guy. She tried to keep her cool, but her cheeks flushed traitorously.
Sophia, ever the wingwoman, jumped in with a smirk. "Odd isn't the word I'd use. More like... intriguing." She winked at Emily, who rolled her eyes.
Emily managed a shy smile, her gaze locked on Lucas. The tequila had loosened her up, but she still felt a flutter of nerves. What the hell was she doing, flirting with this guy? But after the week she'd had, she deserved a little fun.
"Age is just a number," Emily quipped, raising her glass. "You gonna drink or what, old man?"
Lucas chuckled, a deep, rich sound that sent tingles down Emily's spine. He reached for the shot glass, his fingers brushing hers. "Well, when you put it that way..."
They clinked glasses and tossed back the shots. Emily grimaced at the burn, but Lucas didn't even flinch. Damn, the man could hold his liquor.
A few shots later, Sophia leaned in close, her breath warm against Emily's ear. "Let's dance, babe."
Before Emily could protest, Sophia was tugging her off the barstool. Emily tossed an apologetic glance at Lucas. "I'll be back," she said, flashing a smile.
The bar's tiny dance floor was already packed with bodies moving to the pulsing rock beat. Emily let Sophia pull her into the crowd, the heat and press of strangers enveloping them.
Sophia's hips swayed as she raised her arms above her head, losing herself in the music. Emily tried to match her friend's carefree moves, but felt stiff and awkward.
"Loosen up!" Sophia shouted over the noise. She grabbed Emily's hands, twirling her in a circle.
Emily stumbled, nearly colliding with a burly biker. "Shit, sorry!" she yelled. The man just grinned and kept dancing.
As Sophia spun her again, Emily's eyes were drawn to the bar. Lucas sat motionless, his intense gaze fixed on her. Heat crept up her neck.
‘Why is he staring?’ Emily wondered. ‘Do I look that ridiculous?’
She forced herself to look away, focusing on Sophia instead. But her attention kept drifting back to those piercing blue eyes. With each twist and dip of her body, she felt Lucas tracking her movements.
‘Christ, get it together,’ Emily chided herself. ‘He's just some random dude at a bar.’
But as the song reached its crescendo, Emily found herself dancing with renewed energy. Her hips swayed more fluidly, her arms moved with grace. And each time she glanced at Lucas, a little thrill ran through her.
‘Fuck it,’ she thought. ‘Maybe I want him to watch.’
Emily's body swayed to the pulsing rhythm, her hips moving in time with the bass that reverberated through the smoky air of The Iron Horse. The cheap beer and shots coursed through her veins, dulling the ache in her chest and loosening her limbs. She felt Sophia's breath on her ear as her best friend leaned in close.
"What are you thinking, Em?" Sophia's voice was barely audible over the music.
Emily didn't respond, her gaze fixed on Lucas across the room. His piercing blue eyes hadn't left her since she stepped onto the dance floor, and a thrill ran through her at the intensity of his stare. She watched as he pushed off from the bar and made his way closer, his movements fluid and purposeful.
Fuck, he looks good, Emily thought, admiring the way his henley stretched across his broad chest. The odd greys in his hair caught the dim light, giving him an air of distinction that made her pulse quicken.
Lucas came to a stop at the edge of the dance floor, leaning casually against a nearby table. He took a long pull from his beer bottle, eyes never leaving Emily as she moved.
"Earth to Emily," Sophia said, snapping her fingers in front of Emily's face. "You're totally checked out. What's going on in that head of yours? Are you staring at Lucas still?"
Emily tore her gaze away from Lucas, meeting Sophia's concerned look. "Nothing. Just... enjoying the music."
Sophia arched an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Uh-huh. And I'm the Queen of England. You haven't taken your eyes off him all night."
"So what if I haven't?" Emily shot back, a hint of defiance in her tone. "I'm allowed to look, aren't I?"
"Hell yeah, you are," Sophia grinned, giving Emily a playful shove. "And from the way he's eye-fucking you right now, I'd say the feeling's mutual."
Emily felt her cheeks flush, a mix of embarrassment and arousal coursing through her. She snuck another glance at Lucas, her breath catching as their eyes met. He raised his beer in a subtle toast, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk that made her knees weak.
"Fuck it," Emily muttered, squaring her shoulders. "I'm going over there."
Sophia's eyes widened. "Wait, what?"
“You convinced me to introduce myself, Soph, I’m just following up on that,” Emily replied, already walking towards him, her steps fueled by liquid courage and a desperate need to feel something other than the pain of Ryan's betrayal. As she approached Lucas, she saw his eyes darken with interest.
"See something you like?" Emily asked boldly with a smile, coming to a stop in front of him.
Lucas' smirk widened. "I might be asking you the same question, darlin'."
The gravel in his voice sent shivers down Emily's spine. She leaned in close, the scent of leather and whiskey filling her senses. "And if I said yes?"
Lucas set his beer down, his large hand coming to rest on Emily's hip. "Then I'd say we should get out of here and find somewhere a little more... private."
Emily's heart raced, a mix of excitement and trepidation coursing through her. She knew this was reckless, potentially a huge mistake. But as she looked into Lucas' eyes, she found she didn't give a damn about the consequences.
"Well then, let’s go," she breathed, taking his outstretched hand.
The Iron Horse's heavy wooden door creaked open, letting in a gust of cool night air. Emily's head buzzed pleasantly from the alcohol as she stepped outside, Lucas close behind her. The scent of pine and sea salt mingled with the lingering traces of cigarette smoke and motor oil clinging to their clothes.
Suddenly, a blur of auburn curls rushed towards her. Sophia flung her arms around Emily's neck, nearly knocking her off balance.
"Em, you okay?" Sophia's warm breath tickled her ear. "Are you sure about this?"
Emily's heart swelled with affection for her best friend. Always looking out for her, even now. "I'm great, Soph. Promise I'll call you in the morning."
Sophia pulled back, her hazel eyes searching Emily's face. After a moment, she nodded and released her.
As Sophia melted back into the crowd, Emily turned to Lucas. His piercing blue eyes seemed to glow in the dim light of the street lamps. A thrill ran through her body as she met his gaze.
"My place is just around the corner," Emily said, surprising herself with her boldness. Fuck it, she thought. After the week she'd had, she deserved this.
Lucas' lips curled into a knowing smirk. He nodded, gesturing for her to lead the way.
As they walked down the cobblestone street, Emily's mind raced. What the hell am I doing? But the warmth of Lucas' presence beside her, the memory of his eyes on her as she danced, drowned out any doubts.
They reached the door of Emily's building. As she fumbled for her keys, Lucas stepped closer. The heat of his body sent a shiver down her spine.
"Last chance to change your mind," he said softly.
Emily turned, meeting his intense gaze. Her heart pounded in her chest. "Not a chance in hell," she replied, before pulling him inside.
The evening light filtered through Freya's apartment windows, casting long shadows across the hardwood floors where scattered throw pillows awaited the incoming crowd. She'd arranged the furniture to create cozy clusters, perfect for the group who would soon fill her space with laughter and the kind of easy affection that came from shared history and mutual trust.Dan arrived first, slipping in through the door she'd left cracked open. His eyes found hers immediately, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he crossed the room in three long strides. "Need help with anything, Doc?""Just your muscles, Sergeant," Freya replied, nodding toward the bags of ice on her counter. "Those mocktails won't chill themselves."They worked in comfortable silence, shoulders brushing as they prepared an array of fruit-laden d
The afterglow wrapped around them like a silk sheet, their breathing finally settling into a synchronized rhythm. Freya traced lazy patterns on Dan's chest, her fingertips dancing over the light sheen of sweat that still clung to his skin. The red babydoll she wore had twisted during their earlier activities, leaving more revealed than concealed."How about a bath?" she suggested, propping herself up on one elbow to look at him. Her auburn hair was delightfully mussed, falling across one eye in a way that made Dan's heart skip."Sounds like a solid prescription, Doctor," he replied with a smirk, earning him a playful swat on the chest.Freya rolled out of bed with the fluid grace of a cat stretching after a long nap. She reached down and grabbed the hem of the babydoll, pulling it over her head in one smooth motion.
Dan Foster stood outside Freya's door, roses in one hand, takeout in the other, wearing a grin that could only be described as wolfish. Six weeks of healing had felt like six years, and now that his ribs no longer screamed in protest at every movement, he had plans. Very specific plans that involved making up for lost time with the woman who, when she wasn’t with him in person, had been driving him crazy with teasing texts and provocative photos for the past month and a half.The bouquet was massive – two dozen red roses arranged with sprays of baby's breath, wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine. It had cost him a small fortune, but the look on Freya's face when she opened the door made it worth every penny. She wore a silk robe that clung to her curves, her auburn pixie cut slightly tousled as if she'd been running her fingers through it."We
The Rusty Anchor glowed like a beacon against the darkening sky, its windows warm with golden light that spilled onto the cobblestones. Freya's hand rested lightly on Dan's elbow as they made their way up the path, her touch both steadying and electric. He moved slower than he would have liked, each step measured, but there was something satisfying about walking under his own power after days of being confined to her couch."You're doing great," Freya said, her auburn pixie cut catching the lantern light as she glanced up at him. "Though I have to say, watching you move like an arthritic grandpa is doing wonders for my ego as a medical professional."Dan's laugh came out as a slight wheeze. "Glad my broken ribs are good for something."The maître d' led them to a corner table with a view of the moonlit o
Time blended in a haze of painkillers, takeaway containers, and marathon viewings of extended editions. Dan's bruises shifted from violent purple to sickly yellow, marking time like the most unfortunate mood ring ever created. But it was the invisible healing – the knitting of cracked ribs beneath his skin – that tested his patience the most.Five days had passed since he'd first arrived at Freya's flat, and while he'd graduated from needing help to stand up to managing most tasks on his own, the constant ache in his chest served as an unwelcome reminder of his limitations. The first morning, she'd had to help him get dressed. By day three, he could pull on his own t-shirt, even if the movement made him wince.Freya watched his progress with the calculating eye of someone who'd seen countless patients push themselves too hard, too fast. She doled ou
For the next hour, Freya demonstrated proper recovery positions, explained different types of seizures, and walked through emergency response protocols. She described the various medic alert items first responders should look for, from jewelry to wallet cards to phone apps. The room remained engaged, with officers taking notes and asking increasingly specific questions."What if someone's wearing a medic alert bracelet but isn't responsive enough to tell us where their medication is?" asked a paramedic near the back."Not everyone has it, but check their jacket pockets first," Freya replied. "Most people keep emergency medication in an easily accessible spot. If you can't find it, that's when you need to get them to emergency services immediately."An officer raised her hand. "How do we distinguish between someone w