No Attachments (Woodfalls Girls #1)
Chapter 1: Why lightweights shouldn't drink
Ashton
"Come on, go," my friend, Tressa said, trying to push me out of my chair. "What good is a bucket list if you're too chicken to do any of it?"
"Zip it," I said out of the corner of my mouth as I apprehensively eyed the situation in front of me. It seemed like a good idea on paper, but actually committing to it suddenly made me nauseous. I took a long pull from my beer, hoping that would help calm my nerves. "God, that's disgusting." I grimaced as the foul liquid poured down my throat. "I don't know how people drink this crap," I complained, slamming the bottle back down on the table a little harder than I should have.
"You're stalling, Ash. Besides, this was your idea. Pick up a random stranger and bang his socks off," Tressa quipped. "You need to seize the opportunity before someone else does, otherwise you'll be SOL, and your only choice will be Old Man Jones over there," she added, making our friend Brittni snort loudly.
"Shush," I said, elbowing her in the gut. Tressa had one volume level—loud. Her words traveled from our table to the many other patrons throughout the only bar in this sleepy little town. Joe's was the hotspot here in Woodfalls, and Friday was your only good chance to meet someone if you were single and on the prowl because Saturday was family karaoke night.
"Ow, bitch," Tressa said, rubbing her stomach. "It's not like the grumpy old fart can hear us anyway," she said loudly in his direction.
"Gahhhh, shush, Tressa. He's going to hear you," I said, sliding back down in my seat.
"Chillax, drama queen. He doesn't even have his hearing aid in. Watch," she said, shooting me a mischievous grin. "Hey, Mr. Jones, I really want to blow you," she said loudly.
She managed to get the attention of about a dozen guys with that one, including Mr. Jones, who whirled around, studying us with his beady black eyes. His grey bushy eyebrows came together in a unibrow that looked like a giant caterpillar on his forehead.
Brittni snorted again as she shook with laughter. I squirmed uncomfortably on the hard wooden bench, fighting the urge to point at Tressa like we were in kindergarten and had gotten busted for throwing spitballs or something.
Tressa returned his stare head-on, smiling sardonically until he turned back around.
"Sheesh, girl, you're lucky he didn't take you up your offer," I said, stifling my own laughter.
"Hey, you never know what he's sportin' in those dusty old overalls." Tressa winked.
"Gross," I shrieked.
Tressa just shrugged, unconcerned. I couldn't help admiring her self-assuredness. She didn't care what people thought about her. She was loud and seriously inappropriate, but hilarious as hell, despite the tight leash her boyfriend tried to keep her on. We'd only been friends for four months, but I had grown quite fond of her in the short period of time. Both she and Brittni had welcomed me into their friendship circle without a second thought. They acted like I belonged. Not because they felt sorry for me or pitied me like everyone else had done for so many years, but because they genuinely seemed to like me. Brittni wasn't as flamboyant or inappropriate as Tressa, but she had a wickedly dry sense of humor that kept people on their toes. And then there was me. I wasn't completely sure what I brought to the group, but that's why I was here. Somewhere over the last five years, I'd forgotten who I really was.
"Alright, time to stop stalling. Get off your ass and pick up that tall, dark, he-can-have-my-panties-any-day seximist," Tressa said pointedly, looking at the stranger we'd been eyeing for the last fifteen minutes.
"Maybe I should do something else on my list," I said, pulling a rumpled slip of paper out of my bag while desperately trying to ignore the butterflies that had suddenly decided to hang out in my stomach. I gently smoothed out the creases as I contemplated the items scrawled on the paper.
"That's my point. Don't you find it a little weird that we don't know this guy? This town is pretty much off the beaten path. He could be some mass murder. How do you know he wouldn't put my head in his freezer or something?"
"Sweetheart, after a night with him, you'll want a freezer to cool you off," Tressa said, eyeing him with open admiration. "Besides, if you don't make your move, I'm totally claiming him," she added, adjusting her shirt so the tops of her ample breasts peaked out from the thin camisole she was wearing under her button-up see-through shirt.
"So, you wouldn't mind that you don't know him and that he could very well chop up your body into a million pieces? Not to mention what Jackson would say if he found out," I said, reminding her of her boyfriend.
"Wow, seriously, chill, Ash. She's just trying to give you a spark. Besides, you were a stranger here once too, and you didn't show your true crazy for a couple days," Brittni teased. "Now get up there and sex that possible serial killer up."
"You two are a riot," I said, choking down the last of my beer that tasted like elephant piss, or at least what I would assume elephant pee would taste like. "Alright, wish me luck," I added, finally sliding out of the booth. "If he chops me up into little pieces, neither of you get those boots of mine you want so bad," I threatened. I made my way up to the counter where the object of our interest was perched. Considering my shaky legs, I wasn't exactly as subtle as a prowling jungle cat. Tressa was right. Finding a perfect candidate for a one-night stand was slim to none in a town the size of Woodfalls. Strangers were far and few between. Couple that with the fact that he was drop-dead gorgeous and his sudden appearance was like a gift from god. Not that good-looking was a prerequisite. The only requirement I had set was that he know nothing about me or my past. I wanted one night where someone wanted me for me, not because they felt sorry for me.
"Hey, Joe, can I get a shot?" I asked, sliding onto the barstool next to the tall-dark-panty-dropping-worthy hunk.
"Sure thing, Ashton. How'd you like your beer?" Joe asked, drying a small shot glass with a cotton towel he had tucked into his apron.
"It tasted like pee," I confessed.
Joe threw his head back as a loud roar of laughter erupted out of him. "Drink a lot of pee, do you?" he asked.
I opened my mouth to answer him sarcastically when the object of my fascination let out a low rumble of laughter. Seizing my opportunity, I gulped down the bourbon Joe had placed in front of me and swiveled around to face the stranger next to me. The liquor burned its way down my throat, leaving a fiery trail all the way to my belly, but it was eclipsed by the liquid fire that burned through me when my eyes finally met his.
"Can I get you another?" he asked softly in a radio DJ-like voice that you would hear on a lonely Saturday night, encouraging listeners to call in with their favorite weepy love songs.
"Sure." I eyed my empty glass as my body responded to his sexier-than-sin voice. I was a sucker for a deep voice—or an accent, especially British or Australian accents. Neither though, could compare to his rich deep voice that seemed to vibrate through me. I realized in that instant I had left a crucial item off my bucket list. Having an intimate conversation with someone with a voice like his should have topped my list.
"You all right?" he asked, looking bemused as Joe placed another shot in front of me. I started to answer his question and mentally kicked myself when I realized I'd been staring at him like he was a tall glass of water on a hot summer day. Matter of fact, I was about ninety-nine point nine percent sure I may have licked my lips in anticipation.
"Absolutely. How 'bout you?" I asked, trying for a seductive throaty voice that just went wrong. "Thanks for the drink," I added, sucking down the liquid confidence in an attempt to calm my frazzled nerves.
His bemused expression turned to outright amusement as he took in my watery eyes that had resulted from my quick gulping of the whiskey shot. "Another?" he asked with raised eyebrows.
"Why not," I answered, though the room was already tilting slightly. I could count on one hand the amount of times I'd actually had a drink growing up. They all centered on the time my life had slipped drastically off course. I'd gone hog wild for a couple of weeks until I realized drowning my sorrows in alcohol only made me sick, and didn't solve anything anyway. After that it wasn't a viable option. Needless to say, my time in high school and college had been pretty lackluster.
Tall, Dark and Dreamy chuckled softly beside me as he flagged down Joe for another round. Holding up his own shot glass, he waited until I raised mine to meet his, and then winked at me as we clinked glasses. "Damn," my breath hitched. I was a sucker for winking too. Something about it made my stomach tighten up in anticipation and my breath quicken. Not to mention having Mr. Seximist behind the wink made other areas tighten up too, while a certain other area began to throb. It took me a moment to distinguish the throbbing as desire. My one and only sexual encounter had been four years ago, after prom, and it didn't last long enough to ever cross over into the desire category. It was the means to an end. I had wanted to feel normal just for one night, and by the end of the dance, I finally coaxed Shawn Johnson into ending my virgin status once and for all. He'd resisted the idea at first, but my constant touches and whispered comments finally muddled his brain enough that he caved. The actual act lasted less than two minutes and hurt like a bitch, but in the end, I was glad I'd gone through with it.
I was pulled away from my thoughts by a low chuckle. "Son of a bitch, not again," I thought, blanching inwardly. He busted me gawking at him like a lovesick teenager again. "Okay, pull it together," I reminded myself. "Focus on why you're here." I welcomed the warm buzz from yet another shot of bourbon and the uncharacteristic confidence that came with it. Licking the last drop of amber liquid off my bottom lip, I watched with satisfaction as his eyes settled on my lips. I could do this.
"You know, you keep winking at girls like that and one of them is bound to take it as an invitation," I said.
"Sweetheart, I only wink at the girls I'm interested in," he answered smoothly, tipping his own glass to his lips.
The desire I had been trying in vain to control unfurled inside me, making my nipples harden beneath the black lace bra I had the uncanny foresight to don that evening. The dull ache between my legs morphed into a steady throbbing that even my crossed legs could not ease.
"Is that so?" I asked, arching my eyebrow in what I hoped was a seductive manor.
"It's a fact, sweetheart," he whispered close to my ear.
I clamped my lips together so I wouldn't embarrass myself by moaning out loud as his warm breath rustled the hair at the nape of my neck. I resisted the urge to sweep my long dark hair out of the way to give him more access.
"You're pretty cocky," I said as he signaled Joe for another round. My head was already spinning, but I figured another one couldn't hurt.
"Not cocky, sweetheart, confident," he answered huskily, reaching for our drinks with one hand when Joe brought them over.
I reached over to relieve him of my glass, but before I could retract my hand with my drink in it, he snagged my pinkie with his. Looking at our now linked hands, I watched as he slowly raised my hand to his mouth. I gripped the glass tightly as he brushed his lips across my knuckles before releasing my hand.
Suddenly, the drink felt ten times heavier with the sudden absence of his hand. I worked to keep the glass upright in my shaky hand as I raised it to my lips. Gulping the contents, I set the glass down and took in his slightly blurred features.
"You okay?" he asked as I swayed slightly on my barstool.
"Absolutely. I do this all the time," I lied.
"I'm sure," he mocked, softly signaling Joe for another round.
"You can bank—" my retort was cut short when my cellphone chirped in my purse.
"I need to use the ladies' room," I breathed, rising unsteadily to my feet as the floor tilted slightly beneath me. "I'll be right back."
"Do you need some help?" he asked, cocking his eyebrow at me.
He chuckled. "I meant getting to the bathroom. You looked like you were a bit unsteady there."
"I'm good," I clarified before strutting away. It took all my willpower to keep my gait steady as I made my way across the scuffed wooden floors to the bathroom. Tressa and Brittni were leaning against the bathroom counter waiting for me when I entered. It was all part of the plan we had set up. They were here for the status update.
"So, is he a serial killer?" Brittni asked as I headed for one of the stalls.
"Hold on, I really do have to pee."
"He looks like he's into you," she added, switching on the faucet so I could pee in peace.
"Of course he's into her. She's smoking hot," Tressa interrupted. "I bet he's already suffering from a case of blue balls," she added laughing as I heard the smacking of flesh.
"Do you always have to be so crude?" Brittni asked disgusted as I flushed the toilet and opened the stall door.
"He's not the only one," I muttered, filling the palm of my hand with soap before sticking them under the faucet that was still running.
"Ooh, things a little damp downstairs?"
"Oh my god, Tressa, seriously?" Brittni said, taking another swipe at her.
"That's one way to say it. Put it this way, he'd slide in pretty damn easy right now if you know what I mean," I giggled, bracing my hands on the counter as the floor beneath me continued to sway.
"You okay, slick?" Brittni asked, really looking at me for the first time since I'd entered the bathroom.
"Fine," I answered, moving my eyes from the slow rolling floor.
"She's buzzing," Tressa crowed, taking in my glassy eyes and flushed cheeks.
"I sure am," I cracked up, not entirely sure why I found it so funny.