Business Casual

Evie Beckett

You know that person who can’t wait for the holidays to get gross, lovey, and handsy with their partner but as soon as they’re cast aside, they dread the season? That’s me. Evangeline Marie Beckett.

So far, the brilliant tart flavor of red wine is the only thing that’s appeased the ache of the fresh image of my signature on my divorce agreement.

Finnigan’s pub wasn’t as busy as I foresaw on a Thursday evening, but the hell if I complain. It only means I get to stretch my legs along this ugly tan loveseat and relieve my throbbing feet, thanks to these dark-as-night six-inch heels.

A tiny electric heater on the wall imitating a fireplace wasn’t as favorable as the real thing, but the waltzing orange flames and smoldering heat toasting my bare thighs below the hem of my pitch-black bodycon dress begged to differ.

Pool balls chattered far behind me every so often, and the low hum of some crappy tune sang from the glowing jukebox by the hallway leading to the lavatories. From where I sit though, nothing can disturb my tranquility in this crafty little nook they’ve created.

“What’s an angel like you doing in a place like this?” a manly voice asked.

Glancing up, molten dark chocolate irises gleamed from the solid, tanned-skinned tower above me. His short brown hair appeared nearly black in the dim lighting, and though bronzed leather covered his arms, it was obvious he was dedicated to lifting iron.

“Just curious...” I cocked a brow. “Does that line always work for you?”

“Evidently not, because you haven’t invited me to sit down yet.” He gestured at my lengthy legs, covering the cushions. “Do you mind?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I do, actually.”

Suddenly, he seized my ankles and slid under my legs, parking himself on the sofa, before dropping my limbs over his thighs and shooting me a smile.

What a cocky bastard.

“Well, don’t you just have balls the size of grapefruits,” I said sarcastically.

“If you’re impressed with those, you should see what they’re attached to.”

Yeah, I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?

“I’m Tony Martinez,” he said, grinning through his short goatee.

The nerve of this guy. How dare he interrupt my sanity? How dare he put his hands on me, let alone leave them there?

“Holly,” I lied.

If I wasn’t so jet-lagged, I’d reclaim my legs and leave, but I’m honestly not ready to walk through my mom and dad’s door yet. Not prepared to listen to them go on about getting back out there and finding a new man, so I didn’t die alone.

I know they care about me, but I’ve been worried about someone else for so long that I forgot who I am. Which leads me to hope that maybe my separation was a blessing in disguise. A chance at a clean start.

“So what brings you to good ol’ Vermont?” Tony asked.

I furrowed my brows, taking a sip of crimson. “How do you know I don’t live here?”

“Because if there was a woman that looked like you living in Burlington, I would’ve found her ages ago,” he said, smirking.

Keep the compliments flowing, Tony, and you just might just earn some brownie points.

“This is my hometown,” I said. “I just moved back here from Washington State.”

My luggage is probably being signed for by my parents right now. Thankfully, I packed as many pencil skirts and dresses as I could fit in my three suitcases because I start my new job tomorrow at Vázquez and Lowry, the top law firm in Vermont. Sadly, though, the only job available was a secretary for the Chief Executive Officer, Samuel Vázquez.

“So don’t get me wrong...” Tony’s sight ambled along my legs. “That dress is smokin’ on you, but judging by your color choice, you either just went to a funeral, or got dumped.”

“Close.” I paused, having another sip. “Divorced.”

His eyes widened, like melted chocolate pouring over parchment. “No…”

“Oh yes,” I huffed, mirroring his expression. “I guess the maid he hired did a little more serving than she should’ve.”

Tony’s forehead pinched, still absorbing the shock. “Pardon my language, but that asshole’s got a screw loose.”

Three points.

“Why go out for burgers when you’ve got steak at home?” he asked, nodding at me.

“If you wanna get technical, he didn’t go out, but I appreciate the sentiment,” I said, before finishing my last drop of cabernet.

“Men like me, that have their head on straight, could eat steak all night long,” he said, smiling.

Okay, something tells me we are not talking about food here...

“Another red?” he asked, pointing at my empty glass.

I smirked. “Well, look at you, try-hard.”

“What can I say?” He shrugged. “A woman like you has a way of making a man determined.”

Five points.

Tony flagged down the bartender, who he seemed to know well, after a flattered bow of my chin. The barkeep was glad to wait on us, due to the lack of patrons in the tavern.

After downing half of my second glass, the heated tingly sensations were becoming more apparent than I liked, but after answering enough questions about myself, I was feeling a tad selfish, so it was my turn to query.

“So what’s got you here all alone on a Thursday night?” I asked.

He hummed over his glass of whiskey before it settled back over my knees. “That’s a touchy subject.”

Now I’m intrigued. What skeleton does this gorgeous man have stashed in his closet?

“Come on,” I begged, batting my lashes and purposely shifting my calf over his groin. “Tell me.”

“My parents invited my ex-wife Carla into town for Christmas. She was part of the family for ten years, and I get it, but it’s still a little awkward.”

Ex-wife... So either he’s a player like my ex, or he knows exactly what I’m going through.

“And what’s worse is she’s bringing her new husband.”

Wow. I can’t even imagine Greg coming to my parents for Christmas, let alone his mistress.

“Well, not to be blunt but... lucky me,” I said with a smirk, lightening the mood.

“How so?” he asked.

“Because if you were still married, you might not be here keeping my legs warm.”

Did I actually just say that? Am I actually flirting with this man? It must be the alcohol. Maybe I should slow down a little. Ignoring that thought, I gulped the last bit down.

“Such nice legs shouldn’t be left out in the cold,” he uttered.

Fifteen points.

As he tenderly caressed the underside of my calf and we stared at each other, every degree of heat my body housed rushed between my thighs, thawing my icy unwillingness into a pool of molten enthusiasm.

I’m aware he’s only laying it on thick because he wants to take me home, but I’m truthfully overwhelmed with temptation.

The divorce process did a number on my emotional state and a mind-blowing orgasm might be what I need to haul myself out of this rut. I’d never have to see the guy again, so afterward I’d be free to do as I please, without the pressure of dating or any of that crap.

“I have a question for you, Tony...”

“Ask away, Holly,” he said, setting his empty cup on the tiny table beside the couch.

Holly?

Oh right. I gave him a fake name. That’s probably for the best.

“Are you gonna take me home or not?”

“I would love to take you home,” he said. “But unfortunately my house is undergoing a bit of renovations, so it’s a bit of a mess at the moment.”

“Well, my new apartment is too, and the place I’m staying now is out of the question, so…”

Tony scooted closer, and I raised my hips, allowing him to shift underneath me. The thin lining of my dress pressing into his lap granted me the opportunity to experience the bulge in his jeans growing firmer against my ass by the second. His palm slowly sliding up the interior of my thigh sparked my sinking stomach as his other arm spiraled my back.

Booze fumed heavy between the measly space between us, only increasing my buzz, as I held my glass, trembling with anticipation. I guess I should be thankful that the fireplace in front of us is fake or it might be a safety hazard.

His lips weakly claimed mine, but it was enough for a thrilling shiver to draw goosebumps over every inch of skin and a carnal lust for more. The cabernet and jack formed a marvelous concoction only he and I had the luxury of tasting, and his lingering fingertips nearly touched the lacy layer clinging to my eager saturation.

His lips painfully pulled from mine, only to whisper a question. “Where does that leave us then, Holly?”

Good question. I haven’t kissed a man that wasn’t my ex-husband in over six years. Call me desperate, but I was thirsty to see what else would make me feel the newfound liberation I was currently undergoing.

“Ladies' room,” I said, nodding over my shoulder toward the hallway by the jukebox. “Meet me in two minutes.”

“Classy lady...” he whispered across my lips.

“Hey, if you don’t want to—”

“No, I do,” Tony interrupted. “I’ll be there.”

I climbed from his lap, very aware of where his gaze dipped. My heels clacked across the hardwood, on my way to the powder room, deliberately adding an extra sway in my hips just in case Tony was watching, still feeling a smidge raunchy about what was about to go down in the restroom of my hometown bar.