Sleet Sugar by S.J. Tilly

CHAPTER THREE

IZZY

I was thinking we’d get our drinks and then bring them to one of the little tables tucked into a corner, but we did not. Zach pulls out one of the high stools right at the bar, offering me a seat. It takes a bit of wiggling to scoot myself up, but luckily he’s pulling out his own stool next to mine, so I have a moment of privacy to get situated. The seat is quite comfortable. It doesn’t have arm rests, but it does have a tall back. And it swivels.

The bartender approaches us, giving me another respite to compose myself before I have to face Zach one-on-one, as he asks -. “What can I get you two to drink?”

This bartender has Hipster written across his forehead. I mean - not literally, but the pointy beard, flannel buttoned all the way to the top, and horn-rimmed glasses say it for him. He’s nice looking, if you’re into that sort of thing. And normally I would be. But I have to admit I’m entirely on board with the sexy Bad Boy look of Zach at the moment.

“Ladies first -” Zach says, placing one of his big hands on my forearm resting atop the bar.

Ack, I can’t think when he’s touching me!

I try to think of a drink name, any name, but I draw a blank. “Oh, um, do you have a house special?”

The bar tender smiles. “I do. I think you’ll like it," he turns to Zach.

“Vodka tonic, please.”

Vodka. Interesting. I’d have taken him more for a dark liquor kind of guy.

The bartender steps away to make our drinks.

I bite my lip. Now I’m nervous.

My chair starts to slowly turn towards Zach. He’s moved to face me, and is using a hand on the back of my stool to turn me until I’m facing him.

Oh boy. This is really happening.

There’s a gleam in his eyes when he looks to where my teeth sink into my lower lip. I quickly release my bite and unconsciously dart my tongue out to wet the sting I created. I swear I hear him groan.

When his gaze leaves my mouth to meet mine, he smirks. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I say back, knowing I’m blushing furiously.

“So, my sweet little Izzy, what brings you out tonight?”

I feel like I have a turtledove flapping around inside my ribcage. Zach’s close presence, combined with the fact that he called me little, has me swooning. Honestly though, even with my extra curviness, I do feel little next to this man. And I like it. So I decide to answer him truthfully.

“Well, my big burly Zach, I came here hoping to have fun.”

“Fun?” He cocks a brow. “I’d say that’s a goal we can manage. Shall we set some ground rules?”

“Ground rules?” I’m sure I look as confused as I feel.

“Yeah. If we want to stick to fun, let’s say no talking about work.”

“That means we don’t even tell each other what we do?”

“Correct.”

I wonder if this means he doesn’t have a job. I dismiss the thought almost as quickly as it comes. His dark wash jeans and black long-sleeve cotton shirt are plain, but expensive-looking. He must make money somehow. This also means I don’t need to talk about my job. Which is good, because the last thing I want is for him to be a hockey fan who starts asking me all about the players I work with. That would be a mood killer.

“Agreed.” I nod. “No discussions about work. And no family.” I don’t have much family, so it’s not that it’d be a big topic for me, but if I’m going to have sex with this guy later I don’t want to talk about his mom or sisters tonight. That’s just weird.

“No family.” He nods. “Agreed. Anything else you want to keep off the table?”

I think for a moment. “Nope, that sounds good.” Feeling brave, I ask, “Why did you call me Sugar?” Zach tilts his head at my question, so I elaborate. “Back there,” I motion to where we were admiring the art, “when you first spoke, you called me "Sugar." That’s a common Southern term, but you don’t sound Southern.”

“Indeed I am not. I like the cold too much to live below the Mason-Dixon line. I called you Sugar because you look sweet as candy.” He reaches out and twirls one of my long blond curls around his finger, gently sliding the hair through his grasp. “Add on the fact that you’ve draped yourself in the color of raspberry ice-cream, which happens to be my favorite flavor... Sugar seems like the perfect name for you.”

The bartender sets down our drinks. Looking over, I see he’s given me a martini glass filled with a purplish-blue liquid and garnished with a stick of rock candy. A very unflattering snort escapes me. Of course this would be the drink he makes for me.

“See?” Zach says with a grin. “Sugar suits you.”

“Guess I can’t argue,” I say, lifting my glass towards Zach. “Cheers.”

Zach clinks his glass with mine, and we both take a sip, never breaking eye contact. The taste of my drink hits me unexpectedly. I was so focused on Zach that I forgot I was drinking something new. I can’t help the delighted “Mmmm!” sound that pops out of me before I can stop it.

I bring a hand up to cover my mouth, embarrassed. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting this drink to be so good.”

“Don’t you dare apologize, Sugar. I enjoyed that.”

I swear I’m going to be in a constant state of blushing all night. Everything he says makes me think of sex. His voice makes me think of sex. His big I-want-them-on-my-body hands make me think of sex.

“Can I have a taste?” Zach murmurs.

Crap. See? Everything he says makes me think of sex. I wonder if he can hear my swallow like they do in cartoons - the big audible gulp that often accompanies a finger pulling on a shirt collar to get more air.

From his expression, I think he knows just how much he’s affecting me. Well, two can play at that game. I channel my inner vixen, the one that Meghan promises I have, and smile sweetly.

“Absolutely.”

I pull the stick of rock candy out of the glass and tap it against the rim a few times before handing the drink to Zach. There are still a few drops of the colored liquid sticking to the hard sugar, so - before they can drip onto my dress - I tip my head back, part my lips, and lower the rock candy into my mouth. I close my lips around the wet rocks and slowly pull the stick back out.

I am DYING on the inside, mortified with my behavior, but also giving myself a mental pat on the back for pulling this off without accidently making myself gag.

Once the stick is free of my lips, I tip my head back down. Zach is staring at me, mouth slightly open, drink still held out exactly where it was when I passed it to him. I lick my lips, because - yum - rock candy.

I’m able to hold my composure for about three seconds before I lose myself to a fit of giggles.

This snaps Zach back to life, and his lips curl up in the most adorable smile. “I think I may have misspoken when I named you Sugar. Siren is more likely.”

Getting a hold of my giggles, I reply, “Well you won’t have to worry about drowning on my accord - I’m a terrible singer.”

Zach seems surprised at my answer. “You know your witches.”

“Oh, come now. We aren’t all bad ...” I tease, followed with a little wink.

Zach shakes his head, then lifts my drink to his mouth. I watch his lips as they press against the martini glass. He’s a big guy, so I’m not surprised that he takes a big taste. I’ve spent enough time around large men to know that they don’t daintily sip drinks like I do.

It’s a strong drink, but not overly sweet. I sense Zach’s approval before he speaks.

“I like it.” The words are simple, but his look is heated. He sets the drink down in front of me and then plucks the stick of rock candy out of my hand, placing it back in the glass.

I feel my shyness creeping back in around me. My moment of bravery was fun, but I’m so out of my element right now. I haven’t been on a date like this… ever. I’ve never been on a date with a guy like Zach before. Sure, my exes were good looking, but Zach is a whole different level of Man.

I don’t realize that I’m staring down at my lap until Zach places his big hand over my clasped ones.

“Izzy.”

My name on his lips pulls me to look up at him, and the way he’s looking at me says he knows how freaked out I just got.

I think he’s going to question me about it, but he asks me something else instead. “If you could be one animal for a day, what would it be?”

My tension evaporates at his ridiculous question. “What?!”

“Don’t overthink it, Sweets. What animal would you be? For one day. And it can’t be an extinct or made-up creature.”

I don’t hesitate. “A Peregrine Falcon.”

This brings a genuine smile out of Zach. “Why?”

“They are the world’s fastest bird. They can go 200 miles per hour when they’re in a dive. I can’t imagine being in control of that sort of speed. And they’re predators, while also being beautiful. A perfect combination.”

“I like your reasoning.”

“Thanks.” I preen a little under Zach’s compliment. “Your turn. What animal would you be for a day?”

“I’d go with the Siberian Tiger.”

“Because…” I prompt.

“They’re solitary beasts, and they have no natural predators.”

“Iiinteresting...” I drag the word out.

Zach reaches out and bops me on the nose. “Don’t go reading into these answers too much, pretty lady.”

“If you say so.” I grab my drink while I think. “What was your favorite toy when you were a kid?”

Zach smirks. “Do rollerblades count?”

“I don’t see why not.” I shrug.

“Then that’s my answer: rollerblades. Yours?”

“Polly Pocket.”

Zach scrunches up his face. “Who’s Pocket?”

Good lord, his confused face is adorable.

“Uh, Polly Pocket?” Now I sound like I’m asking it. “I take it you didn’t have a sister. Wait,” I hold up a hand. “Don’t answer that, no family. Polly Pocket is a tiny little… thing. With these miniature people. Sometimes animals. And it fits in your hand.”

“Yeah, sounds great...” Zach deadpans.

“I’m not explaining it right. It’s like a little plastic clam shell, or box, but it’s a room, or a scene, or something like that inside.”

Zach’s laughing at me now. “Clear as mud, Sugar.”

I roll my eyes at him, but I’m cut off from a snappy retort when he grabs a hold of the seat of my chair and drags me towards him, not stopping until we’re just inches apart. I’m not even able to start freaking out about our closeness yet, since I’m still in awe of the arm strength that must’ve taken. He lets go of my seat and pulls his phone out. He’s facing the bar, but since I'm still turned towards him, my knees are now pressed into the outside of his thigh.

“What did you say it was called?”

I see he’s pulled up Google and is ready to search.

I swallow, trying to be cool about this nearness. “It’s Polly Pocket. And what are you doing?”

He turns his head to look at me, his face closer to mine than it’s ever been. “I’m very curious to see this tiny-little-room toy and discover why you loved it so much.”

I try to hold back my smile. “You better not make fun of me, Mr. Rollerblades.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Miss Polly.”

He types into his search bar, and I lean in to see what it pulls up. The first couple links look a little funny.

“Wait, that’s not right.” I reach out and put a hand on Zach’s arm. “Do they still make them? No way!”

“Looks like, yes-way.” Zach hands me his phone. As I start to scroll through, he puts his arm around the back of my chair.

Looking at the new models, I scrunch my face up. “This is blasphemy!”

Zach barks out a laugh, startling me out of my disgust.

“Feeling a little protective of your dolls?”

I lightly elbow him in the side, and I’m momentarily distracted by the hardness that my elbow encountered. Who has core muscles like that? I barely hear myself mumble, “They aren’t dolls.”

“Sure they aren’t.”

“I’ll show you the ones of my generation. Back when toys were real, and you could choke on them. Survival of the fittest type of stuff.” I look over at Zach and shake his phone a little. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.”

His arm still on the back of my chair, he leans back in his seat. I click through a few options before I feel his fingers playing with the ends of my hair. It’s a small movement, but I have to hold back the groan that wants to escape my throat. It feels glorious.

“Any chance you have the Etsy app on your phone?” I ask.

“No chance at all, since I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I shrug. “I figured as much, but it was worth the ask. Who knows, maybe you had a side job selling crocheted socks or something.”

“I feel like you’re talking in code right now.” Zach tugs gently on my hair. “Speak English woman.”

“Crafting, Zach. I’m talking about crafting. Aha! I found some of the originals for sale on eBay.”

I lean back just as Zach leans in, causing our bodies to press together. Instantly, I move to retreat, thinking that I’ve bumped into him by accident. But Zach releases my hair and slides his arm around my shoulder. Holding me in place.

“Show me.”

His voice is a rough whisper in my ear. I feel it everywhere. My heartbeat increases and my breath feels like it’s coming out in pants. I go to hand the phone back to Zach, but he just wraps his hand around mine, so we are both holding the phone. I can feel his chest expand against my shoulder and I wonder if he just sniffed my hair. The thought of it sends tingles right to my center. And now I feel like a pervert, since I can feel myself getting wet while having a conversation about Polly Pocket.

Focusing back on the phone, I click on some pictures and zoom them in to show Zach the details. He asks some questions, and as I answer I keep scrolling through until I find some examples of ones that I’d actually owned. The whole thing is silly, and dorky, and I’m finally relaxing. Not wanting to make the stroll down Memory Lane all about me, I ask if he remembers the brand of his rollerblades. He does. And - thanks to the wonders of internet selling - we find a pair for sale that are from the 90’s, identical to the ones he owned. He makes me save the link to his phone, saying that he might have to buy them later.

I don’t know how long we have been pressed together on these stools, laughing at old stories, but I feel completely comfortable with Zach. He’s not what I would call talkative, but he’s been open, and the conversation has been constant. He’s easy to be with, and I find myself a little disappointed that he’s only here visiting. That thought confirms that I don’t want to miss my chance with him. I want Zach to be my one-night stand.

“Would you two like another round of drinks?” the bartender asks, appearing before us.

Zach looks to me for an answer, and - before I can lose my nerve - I respond. “No, thank you.”

The bartender nods and places our tab down. Zach hands over cash before I can even offer to pay.

Turning to me, I can see the question in his eye. I turned down a second drink. Does that mean I’m done for the night, or does it mean I want to continue this elsewhere?

I feel the blush on my cheeks before I even open my mouth. “So, are you staying at this hotel?”

Instead of smiling, like I thought he might, I watch Zach’s jaw clench. “I am.”

I can’t think of the right way to ask him to bring me upstairs. I thought asking him about staying here would be enough of a lead in. Ugh, I feel so foolish.

I lower my gaze.

Zach’s hand reaches out, and - with the tips of his fingers - he tilts my head back up to look at him. “Sugar, would you like to see my room?”

I nod.

“Good girl.”

Before he stands, he leans in and places a light kiss on my cheek. The turtledove in my chest tries to climb its way up my throat.

Offering me his hand, Zach helps me off the barstool. I’m glad I excused myself to use the restroom during our eBay searches, because I am such a jumbled mess of nervous and excited right now that I’d definitely panic and sneak out a bathroom window if we stopped.

I want this. I want him. I want to feel good. I want to have sex. But I’m still freaking out. I’m confident that he finds me attractive. But what happens when he realizes that I have no idea what I’m doing? I mean, I’ve had sex before, but it’s been a long time. Like a really, really long time. And the sex I had was fine, I think, but it was always the same. I don’t know how to do any of the exciting stuff.

The ding of the elevator brings me back into the moment, and Zach looks like he’s been watching my reflection in the polished silver doors. When they open, I’m thankful that the interior of the elevator isn’t lined with mirrors.

As the doors shut, Zach tugs on my hand, bringing my attention up to him. “Izzy, if you’re having second thoughts, we don’t have to do this. We can go back to the bar.”

His words leave me equal parts embarrassed and relieved. I’m not going to back out, but he’s clearly a good guy since he’s offering me an out.

“No, please. I want to. I’m just not good at this part.”

Zach eyes search me for the truth. “Which part?”

I let out a self-deprecating laugh, “Everything that comes next.”

Zach makes a very obvious show of looking me up and down. “Sugar, I find that very hard to believe. But - even if you think that’s true, you have nothing to worry about. Because I’m very good at this next part.” He smirks.

I lean towards him, wanting to press my lips to his. And that’s when the elevator doors ding open.

With my hand in his, Zach leads me to his room all the way down at the end of the hall. I’m thankful that at least there aren’t neighbors on both sides that might hear us. I’ve never been loud during sex before, but I have a suspicious feeling that sex with Zach is going to be like nothing I’ve ever experienced.