As often happened when I wasn’t distracted by other things, the memories of that night played in my head. I’d thought the alcohol might help with that, but I was pretty buzzed, and yet the memories were still sharp as tacks. I drifted outside, skirting the sparkling blue pool and following the slope of the land that descended into a grassed area. Tall trees rimmed our property, providing privacy from the neighbors. My uncle had always been on the gardeners to keep the trees healthy, fearing one sick plant would infect the lot and he’d lose the mini forest that kept prying eyes from our business. I’d once heard him joke about the trees allowing my aunt to sunbathe nude, and she’d laughed and swatted his arm. I’d been embarrassed and slunk away, pretending not to hear.
Now, I’d give anything to hear him say it again.
Give anything to have him back.
“Sorry for your loss.”
I jumped at the deep voice that seemed to come out of nowhere. I spun around, searching for the owner in the disappearing light. He leaned against a wide trunk, cigarette dangling from his lips.
The bartender from earlier.
Hell. He really was attractive.
It took me a moment to draw my gaze away from his mouth and up to his eyes. Were they blue? Green? Something light-colored for sure.
“Thanks.” I shoved my hands in the pockets of my dress, studying him.
He pulled a lighter from the pocket of his black dress pants and sparked it. A small orange flame erupted, sending a chill rolling down my spine. He brought it to the end of his cigarette, dragging hard to light it. When he straightened, he blew a lazy cloud of smoke out the corner of his mouth, his gaze trained on me the entire time.
After the shitty day I’d had, I liked the way he looked at me.
He didn’t look at me like I was the poor little rich girl who’d lost the only father she’d ever known.
He didn’t look at me in suspicion, like the police did every time I met with them.
The only thing his look held was the promise of a good time.
He pulled the cigarette from his lips, holding it between two fingers, and offered it to me. “Smoke?”
I shook my head. “Not my thing.”
But something about the relaxed expression on his face as he inhaled made me want to try it.
Fuck it. I inched closer to him, eyeing the cigarette. He passed it to me, our fingers brushing in the exchange. I drew in a breath at the thrill that one tiny touch sent through my body.
I grasped the cigarette with unpracticed fingers and brought it to my lips. I sucked on it, smoke filling my mouth and lungs. My head spun, flashing back to the moment I’d dropped to my knees outside my uncle’s office, overcome by the smoke and flames. I coughed at the invasion, my chest constricting, fighting the foreign feeling.
The man plucked it from my hand with a chuckle, while my tarred lungs tried to haul in fresh air. I carried on with the deep breaths, longer than my lungs actually needed, just to give myself time to drag my head back to the present.
“Well, that was a mistake,” I gasped out.
“First time?”
I managed to cough up a yes.
He grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “It’s like sex. It gets better the more you do it.”
I wouldn’t know. But I wasn’t about to tell him that. Not even Meredith knew that I was still holding on to my V card.
“What’s your name, sad eyes?” He took another hit but this time didn’t offer it to me.
I was glad. Once was enough.
“Lacey,” I answered.
“Banjo.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Interesting name.”
“Interesting parents. Apparently, they were hippies. But I rock it.”
It wasn’t false confidence. Then name suited him. He had a laid-back vibe that seemed to fit with hippie parents.
“What do you mean, apparently? You don’t know for sure?”
He tilted his head back, letting his hair rest against the bark of the tree, and blew smoke rings into the sky. “Kind of a personal question, don’t you think? Considering I’ve only known your name three seconds.”
Heat crept into my cheeks. “Sorry. Blame the dead father figure for my lack of tact.”
He nudged me with his foot. “I’m messing with you. They took off when I was a kid. Ended up in foster care for a while, until my brother aged out and took custody of me. I barely remember them.”
“We’ve something in common then. Mine disappeared when I was five.”
“Disappeared?”
“Apparently.” I mimicked the word he’d used. “Cops determined they were dead or didn’t want to be found.”
His gaze shifted to the mansion looming over us at the top of the hill. “This place doesn’t seem like a foster house.”
I smiled ruefully. “No, I was lucky. My aunt and uncle adopted me after my parents were declared legally dead.”
“Can’t even imagine what growing up here must have been like. Servants to wipe your ass?”
I laughed. “Monday to Friday. We give them weekends off.”
He chuckled, darting a glance at me from beneath his flop of blond hair. “You’re cute.”
I bit my lip, not sure what to say. Thanks? You’re cute, too? My aunt would probably have a conniption if she knew I was hiding in the back garden, talking to a man I didn’t know. Especially one who obviously wasn’t from around here. The guys in Providence weren’t waiters. If they had summer jobs, it was with their fathers’ law firms. Not serving drinks at parties. I loved my aunt to pieces, but she was a snob. She wouldn’t have given Banjo a second look. Handsome as he was, she wouldn’t have even noticed him. Her eyes would have glossed right over him as if he didn’t exist.
But Banjo was a nice distraction after a shitty day. My eyes weren’t doing any sort of glossing over him. More like studying every inch of him, wondering what he’d look like with that tie loosened and his hair mussed up.
“I should probably go,” I said eventually, pretending he hadn’t said anything. “I’m supposed to be saying goodbye to people and making sure the caterers are packing up.” I eyed him. “Which they’re obviously not, since you’re down here smoking.”
“They’ll be fine without us.”
I drew in a deep breath and willed myself to push off the tree and put some space between us. “They might not notice you’re gone, but I was kind of in the spotlight today.”
I started to walk away, but his hand shot out, circling my wrist, pulling me back. I smiled as tingles shot up my arm. I stared up at him through my eyelashes.
“Don’t go,” he said, voice husky. He dropped his cigarette, putting it out with one scuffed boot, without breaking eye contact for a second.
“Why not?”
“I like talking to you. And I think you liked talking to me.”
“What makes you think that?” I shot back.
“Your eyes were a little less sad and a little more…”
I waited.
“Interested.”
“I didn’t come out here to talk,” I admitted.
He inched closer. “Why did you then?”
“To find something to take my mind off everything up there.” I jerked my head in the direction of the house.