The Blogger and the Hunk (2 page)

* * *

“C
ome on, Jack! Stop being such a lame ass!”

“Alex, you know I didn’t want to come tonight. They’ve been busting my balls at work. I’m tired!”

“Well stop being tired, man. I see lots of hot asses in here tonight. Live a little!”

Jack just shook his head. Yes, he loved his women beautiful just like any other hot-blooded male, but tonight he just wasn’t feeling it. He had been planning on a quiet Friday night with some pay-per-view, a tub of popcorn, and a couple of beers. Unfortunately, his friends Alex and Dylan had ambushed him and practically dragged him to the bar.

“Ooooh, I think I spot a little kitten on the other side,” Alex said, getting ready to go in for the bait. He reminded Jack of a peacock ruffling his colorful feathers, getting ready to catch a mate.

“Need a tagalong? Her friend looks hot,” Dylan offered, eyeing the fit brunette in the hot-pink dress. To Jack, she looked nice, but her dress reminded him too much of a gumball. He shook his head slightly. He was just bitter that he wasn’t at home.

“Yo, you comin’?” Alex asked Jack, still eyeing the blonde, trying not to lose her in the crowd no doubt.

“They’ve got two more hot friends you can choose from,” Dylan offered. “Or you can choose them both if they’re into that sort of thing,” he added, grinning.

“Nah, you guys knock yourselves out.”
Literally
.

Alex and Dylan merely shrugged and headed off to their targets without another word. Jack went back to his watered-down Scotch, and looked at his watch for probably the tenth time since he’d entered the club.

11:30 p.m.

“Christ,” Jack murmured under his breath. Thirty minutes. Only thirty minutes in the goddamn place, and he felt like he had been there for hours. He glanced at the entrance, thinking how long it would take him to reach it without getting noticed by his friends. Jack turned to where his friends were. They were busy flirting with the girls they were with. He saw his chance and nearly sprinted toward the door, weaving through people left and right, almost causing a few to tip their drinks over. He was unapologetic. The exit was in his line of sight, and he could almost taste freedom.

Only too soon someone crashed into him. Jack grunted as the air was knocked out of his lungs. Instinctively he reached out to hold the person, just in case they lost their footing. He looked down to see a mass of brown hair all over the victim’s face.

“I’m sorry,” came the squeaky voice. Just what he needed. Right when he was trying to escape, he
would
have the bad luck of a drunken girl falling over him. He didn’t need her to puke over his nicely pressed dress shirt either, so he quickly let her go right as two other women grabbed her arms to steady her.

“Penny, you okay?” the brunette asked.

“I’m okay,” the mass of brown hair murmured, trying to move her hair out of her face.

“You good?” Jack finally asked, not really paying attention to her answer, glancing toward his exit.

“I’m fine,” she repeated, too busy fixing her mess of wavy hair to look at him. Jack only nodded and stood straight, ready to leave.

“Jack, come join us! Dylan and I are gonna play a game of pool. The girls want to see how good we are.” Alex threw an arm over his shoulder. Jack grunted and let his friend lead him toward the pool tables.

So much for my escape plan.

“Fine, but I’m not playing,” he grumbled.

* * *

P
enelope just wanted to die.

Only five minutes inside the club and already she had made a fool of herself. She looked at her reflection in her compact mirror, trying without much success to untangle the mess she had made of her hair. Wearing the red platform heels was definitely a mistake. Didn’t matter that they made her look at least four inches taller. She had no doubt she was going to fall again before the night was over.

Maybe I’ll just tell the girls I’ll catch a cab home.

“No,” she said into the mirror. “You didn’t get all dressed up for nothing. This is your night to prove to everyone you’re not a pathetic loser. You have a life, you ha—”

A knock that sounded more like a pound resonated through the door of the bathroom stall she was in.

“Hey, you done in there?! I gotta pee!” a woman’s voice yelled.

She took one step out of the stall before the woman rudely bumped past her and slammed the door of the stall shut.

Penelope shook her head and pushed past a few women before finding a vacant sink and placing her clutch on the counter to wash her hands. She took a little longer than necessary to gather her things before taking one more look at her form, smoothing the nonexistent wrinkles on her dress, and acknowledging her chubby complexion in the vanity mirror before stepping out of the bathroom. She scanned the bar, looking for her friends, and found them sitting on a sofa talking to a couple of guys. Two very attractive men for two very attractive women. Penelope wasn’t going to risk walking over there, especially when she’d only feel like an imposter. She walked toward the pool tables at the far right corner of the bar, dodging all the couples grinding on the dance floor. She found an empty seat on the corner of one of the padded benches.

What the hell. Might as well watch some pool.

She had been sitting in silence for a few minutes, watching the pool game, when the guy sitting beside her turned his face toward her.

“How’s the ankle?” he asked.

Penelope quickly turned her attention to him. She stopped breathing for a moment.

Blond hair, eyes a dark green in the dim lighting of the bar, lightly tanned skin, and a symmetrical face with a strong jaw. He could have been a model for a Calvin Klein ad.

She realized she’d been staring and quickly composed herself, hoping that the dim lights kept him from noticing the blush spreading up her neck and into every part of her face.

“Ankle?” she asked absentmindedly, then realized he must have been the one who’d caught her before she had a chance to hit the ground. “Oh! I’m so sorry about that! I tend to naturally be very clumsy and these heels definitely don’t help with that problem,” she explained with a small, nervous chuckle.

The guy smirked a little at the sight of her red heels. “They really are nice.”

Penelope blushed again. “Thank you.”

They went back to watching the game of pool, silence taking over for a few moments before he spoke again.

“Do you play?”

“Uhh, I played once with my uncle and I somehow managed to beat him, which was a surprise.” She chuckled. The guy merely smiled and turned his attention back to the game. Penelope had the sudden urge to talk with him. He was one of the most attractive guys she had ever met. Someday when she was old and gray with her dozens of dogs, she’d be able to look back at this moment and remember how accomplished she’d felt for being able to hold a handsome man’s attention with conversation.

“What I don’t get about it is the betting. How do they know when to bet another dollar?” The guy leaned closer to her as she talked in order to hear her. Penelope’s senses were on high alert.

This hunk smells wonderful!

She would have completely melted on the floor during the next few moments if she hadn’t been trying so hard to look unaffected. She felt his breath against her ear as he explained. “Every time the player up is going to hit the ball, they bet another dollar. Whoever gets rid of all their balls wins the game and the money.”

All Penelope could manage was a nod. God, she hoped she smelled good. It didn’t help that she was already feeling small droplets of sweat beading on her forehead. After a few moments, a cheer broke out around the pool tables.

“Who do you think won? Even or odd?” the guy asked, nodding toward the game.

Penelope looked at the table. All the balls left were odd. “Even,” she replied.

“Good girl,” he said, smiling straight at Penelope.

My God, he’s breathtaking.

She did her best to smile in return.

B
eing a hermit in training isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. You miss out on the world outside. Doesn’t matter if you’re happy with your own company, and a pet—though a wonderful companion—can’t be what a human being needs to feel complete. Now, if only I could convince myself to listen to my own advice.

DIARY OF A WALLFLOWER: Blog Entry 75

“So, got your eye on anyone?” Jack winced internally. He hadn’t meant to ask something so personal. He just wanted to have a decent conversation with the girl. Goodness knew he wasn’t really interested in her. She seemed nice, and his theory about her being drunk was obviously not true. There was something somewhat pleasant about her. It wasn’t attraction, of course. She was a bit too pudgy for his taste. And even though the dress she was wearing was pretty revealing and the heels screamed sexy, he found her too innocent for him.

Inexperienced.

He shuddered. His kind of woman needed to scream confidence, not chubby field mouse. Yet, he somehow couldn’t bring himself to walk away.

“No. I’m here with my friends, although they’ve completely forgotten about me,” she replied, pointing toward the dance floor where a brunette and a blonde were each grinding up against hulking men.

“Well, they seem like they’re having fun. Why aren’t you joining them?” he asked.

The girl turned toward him with a matter-of-fact expression. “Do I need to remind you what happened when I was merely walking in these heels?”

Jack chuckled. He was feeling more at ease since talking to her, and it seemed her wall of insecurity was slowly crumbling. “I’m Jack, by the way.” He reached out for a handshake.

“Penelope,” she replied, taking his hand and firmly shaking it.

“Penelope. Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a while.”

She laughed. “All my mother’s idea. My younger sister was the one who lucked out in the name department. She was named after a color.”

“Well, she was named after a color while you were named after Odysseus’s faithful, and not to mention beautiful, wife. My guess would be that you were the one who lucked out. I took a few mythology classes in college,” he explained at the quizzical look on her face.

“No, I wasn’t wondering how you knew the origin of the name. I was just surprised someone complimented it. It’s a bit out there.” She wrinkled her nose, which Jack thought endearing. “My mother is Nicaraguan, but she swears our ancestry reaches back all the way to the Greeks, which makes absolutely no sense because there’s proof that our ancestors were indigenous to Central America.”

“Oh, I see.” Jack chuckled. “Well, it’s a beautiful name. Very fitting.” He mentally kicked himself a few dozen times. The more he spoke to her, the more foolish lines spilled out of his lips. And to top it off, he noticed her blush return. The lighting in the bar did nothing to hide the fact that her cheeks turned pink every time he complimented her. He couldn’t remember the last time any one of his girlfriends or conquests had blushed, unless they were in the throes of passion. But that was a
very
different situation.

“So what brings you here?”

“It was Friday night and I had nothing to do, so I said what the hell and accepted my friends’ invitation to come and drink the night away.”

“But you haven’t been drinking,” Jack responded. He hadn’t smelled a single hint of alcohol on her breath. On the contrary, whenever she spoke, he was hit with the scent of peppermint. Penelope smiled at him. It wasn’t breathtaking, but it was... pleasant.

“Well,” she began, “I’m not really much of a drinker.”

“Oh, come on. You’re at a bar, might as well drink,” he replied, suddenly feeling like it was his duty to show her a good time.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“So, want to be my partner?” Jack asked, standing and stretching his arm out toward her. She looked at his hand for a few seconds, a startled look on her face, before placing her hand in his.

“Okay,” she shyly accepted, and Jack suddenly felt his night get a little better.

* * *

“W
ait a minute! You fell off the bike and the handle hit you straight in the mouth? That’s crazy!” he exclaimed enthusiastically.

Penelope didn’t know how long they had been sitting at the bar. She had drunk three watered-down vodkas, but even so she felt dizzier than she should’ve. Her body wasn’t used to the alcohol. She stared at Jack’s face. He’d been pretty nice all night, and he seemed to genuinely listen to everything she said.

“Yeah, I did! Almost lost my two front teeth in the process!”

Jack gently touched her upper lip, pulling it up slightly so he could get a better look at her teeth. Penelope giggled like a madwoman and swatted his hand away.

“I said almost!”

Jack was a little buzzed, as far as Penelope could see. Of course, he had drunk much more than she had. “That had to have been one of the clumsiest moments of my life,” she commented. Penelope opened her clutch to sneak a look at the time on her cell phone.

1:00 a.m.

Time did certainly pass when she was having fun. She found it unusual that her friends hadn’t come by to talk to her or steal her from Jack to go dancing. Penelope looked around the dimly lit bar and spotted them where they had been a little over an hour before. Both were busy dry humping their meatheads on the dance floor.

Traitors. Well, she couldn’t really complain, could she? With a handsome guy giving her some attention, she doubted she’d let anything get in her way. He had been approached by one too many gorgeous women, yet he always politely refused them, saying he was with her.

Speak of the devil— “Hey, sexy.” A tall, red-haired beauty slid her hand around Jack’s shoulders.

“Hey, lovely,” he responded, just like with all the rest. He smoothly grabbed her hand from his shoulder and held it in between both of his. Of course, Penelope was once again ignored by the female. Shocker.

“Wanna dance?” the redheaded model asked.

“I’d love to, but I was just about to ask Penelope here if she would dance with me,” Jack said, a small pout on his lips for show, and turned to Penelope. It took her a few moments to finally realize he was asking her.