Although, I would have made an exception for this guy given half a chance.
James.
It suits him.
With dark brown hair, stunning blue-green eyes, and a full beard to cover his chiseled jaw, James is a dead ringer for Tom Hardy. He's one of the most ruggedly beautiful men I have ever laid eyes on. Lord help me, but I've always had a thing for men who held that quiet, brooding aura about them, which is probably the reason why I was attracted to Knox in the first place.
From the moment I met him, Knox was always so serious. I found his somber yet focused personality attractive compared to the slew of college guys who only wanted to party and fuck. Knox was a Type A kind of guy which suited me just fine. Like me, he had his own baggage in the parent department, too. While mine were unwillingly absent from my life, his parents seemed to be inattentive by choice. Or at least that's what I had been led to believe. I'm not sure that's the case anymore if we're all supposed to be spending the holiday season at his father's cabin. Maybe Knox marrying my sister somehow managed to bring his family closer together. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about that.
When Charlotte, our bartender, brings us both our drinks, I try to shake off all thoughts of my ex away. Surprisingly enough, it's not all that hard to do with James sitting at my side and his cologne evading my senses. In fact, the thing I'm currently finding difficult not doing is leaning into this devastatingly handsome stranger and let his sex appeal wash away all my woes. There is also this sense of familiarity about him, one that has my body responding to it more than I would have liked.
It's official.
I need to get laid.
"To surviving the holidays. May they pass as quickly as possible so we can get back to our lives," James says, in that panty-melting voice of his, while raising his glass and clicking the bottom end with mine.
I drink the clear liquid all in one go, thankful that the warmth now settling in my chest is alcohol-induced and not James-driven.
"So by your toast, does that mean you're not looking forward to the Christmas festivities either?" I ask, my gaze focused on the pad of his finger running around the rim of his empty glass.
"Not one bit."
"Is your family that bad?" I question further, this time gaining the courage to look at his aquamarine eyes.
My heart stops for a slip second when his gaze saddens and his shoulders slump.
"No. I'm the bad one. At least that's what my son thinks. I'm sure he can come up with a million reasons why I'm the worst father in the world."
Abort!!!
Abort!!!
If he has a kid, that probably means he has a wife too. And although my sister wasn't averse to cheating, I'm not as inclined. So instead of putting on my flirty smile, I go with my empathic one.
"I have a sister like that. She makes me feel like nothing I do is good enough, too, and it makes me batty sometimes."
He smiles.
Lord have mercy, but that smile alone has my heart somersaulting in my chest.
"Older or younger?"
"My sister?" I choke out, still trying to gather my bearings after such a smile shining my way.
"Yeah." James chuckles, his eyes twinkling with mirth.
"Younger. She just turned twenty-one a few months ago."
"Oh, I remember that age. I bet she still thinks the world revolves around her," he jokes, waiving to Charlotte to refill our shot glasses.
"I'm pretty sure my sister will think she's the center of the universe even when she's well past fifty." I laugh.
"That spoiled, huh?" James smiles softly, the light wrinkles at the corner of his eyes deepening and giving him this-worldly and wise air about him.
"Very."
"And that doesn't bother you?"
"It didn't used to when we were growing up. But now..."
"But now her selfishness hurts you, and you don't like it."
I nod, feeling as if all my troubling emotions are written on my forehead for James to read.
"I understand that perfectly. It's the same with my son. He's a little bit older than your sister, but he's also very self-centered. It makes me feel like I dropped the ball on him after his mom and I got divorced."
Hello?
Did he just say divorced?
Maybe there is hope.
"That sounds tough. Do you have any other children?" I ask, hoping to get a better picture of James' life.
"No. I never remarried either. The first wife was enough to turn me off the whole institution of marriage. And after meeting my son's wife, I can tell you that my mind hasn't changed. What about you?"
I show him the back of my hands—ring free.
"I was supposed to get engaged this year, but it just didn't work out."
I don't add that my would-be fiancé was two-timing me with my own sister, though. I keep that tidbit to myself since that shit is too embarrassing to admit even to a total stranger.
"You got off lucky then," James retorts, lifting his now full glass and drinking it in one quick pull.
"Yikes. You really don't believe in marriage, do you?" I find myself smiling after emptying my glass.
"Nope. Not one bit. People always let you down, and it's best only to rely on yourself."
"And here I thought I was jaded." I laugh nervously.
"I'm not jaded. Just realistic."
"Talkative too." I wiggle my brows to lighten the mood, gaining another one of his laughs that has my toes curling.
"Only with the right company," he responds, with that thick smokey tone of his.
"By company, do you mean total strangers you meet at a bar or your shot of whiskey?"
His gaze sparkles with dark amusement, making my stomach dip.
"A little bit of both."
"Good to know."
He tilts his head my way, his tongue running along his lower lip, as his gaze trails over my body, starting from the tip of my knee-high boots to my curly black hair.
"You're not from around here," he states evenly as fact.
"How can you tell?"
"High heels in four-inch snow aren't exactly proper shoe wear around these parts. Plus, your carry-on is kind of a dead giveaway. If I had to venture a guess, I'd say you're a city girl. Maybe from the East coast."
"Good guess. I was born and raised in Manhattan."
"Privileged girl, too," he adds with an all-knowing smirk.
"Is that a bad thing?"
"It can be. But not always." His eyes stare into mine. "Sophistication oozes out of you."
"In other words, I'm a boring snob. Is that what you're saying?"
"Do I look bored?" He arches a brow.
I bite the corner of my lip, feeling like this is a loaded question.
"Trust me. You will be if we keep talking. My little sister says I bore everyone to death sooner or later. She's the fun one, and I'm the worrywart."
"Hmm. Your sister is really on your mind, isn't she? You've brought her up innumerous times."
Fuck my life. He's right.
"Sorry. See? I'm even boring you now with my family drama."
"As I said, I'm not bored." The searing look he throws at me has me tongue-tied. "I am curious, though."