Bingo.
“So, Tara, I’ve been watching you tonight.” He smirks, seeing her light up already. “I mean, obviously, just the sight of you turns me on.”
She’s totally loving it and leans forward to allow him a better view down her dress.
“But I also know that you’re the kind of woman who knows what she wants. You don’t seem like the type to fall for a line of bullshit.”
Her eyes travel down his body, and when they return to his face, she bites her lip, and replies, “Damn straight.”
He recoils a bit but forces himself to move in closer. Just as he suspected—under her grown woman’s exterior, she is just a horny teenage boy. He gets to the punch line, “I have some blow back at my place. Come with me.”
He watches her eyes light up. She licks her lips in a way he’s sure she thinks is alluring. “Let’s go.” She nods, leaning in too close.
He throws down some cash for the bartender’s tip and stands, extending a hand to grasp hers as they walk toward the exit. The bar’s smoky, hot air is replaced by the fresh evening breeze outside. He opens the passenger door of his car for her, and she slides in smoothly. As he walks to the driver’s side, he mentally prepares himself and starts mulling over options. He should take her back to his place. But he doesn’t want to wait for his release. Before sliding himself into the driver’s seat, he nods to a man smoking a cigarette outside. He’s frustrated, like he just got into an argument with someone, and gives Jeremy a perplexed look before flipping him off, stamping his cigarette out on the ground and going back inside the bar. People have a funny way of validating his disdain for them just when he needs it most.
They drive in comfortable silence for a bit. Every now and then, the woman breaks his meditative quiet with mindless bits of conversation. As the pair makes their way down the dark, tree-lined back roads of Orleans Parish, Jeremy decides where he is bringing her next. He turns onto a dirt road and distracts her with a bit of light conversation.
“What do you do for work?” he asks, preparing himself to feign interest in whatever menial title she’s about to rattle off.
“I’m an attorney,” she says, looking out the passenger window.
Her response is the first thing to shock him tonight. He stifles out an incredulous chuckle. “Really?” he asks, trying to keep his tone even. “A lawyer?”
She smirks, turning to face him with her glassy eyes.
“You sound surprised.”
“I am surprised,” he admits.
He shakes his head. She certainly doesn’t come off as a lawyer. But he wonders what a lawyer would look like in the last hours of the night at a dive bar. This woman just occasionally cut a line with her bar membership card before snorting another hole into her brain.
She laughs lightly, then shakes her head too.
“Well, I have the title, but I just lost the first job I got out of law school,” she admits, stopping short of an explanation and flicking her shame-filled eyes down to her hands.
He can tell she wants to talk about it. She is looking for a companion to unload on, but it won’t be him. No, she won’t find any empathy or thoughtful advice over here. He has infiltrated her broken world for sport, and he’s only interested in his own games tonight. She looks over at him but quickly turns back to the window once she sees that he isn’t going to press for more information.
“So where exactly do you live?” She shifts uneasily in her seat, feeling the weight of her spontaneous decision. “Should I be nervous that you’re turning into the woods right now?”
She clears her throat nervously but turns it into a forced chuckle. He smiles, keeping his eyes on the road in front of him.
“No need to be nervous, esquire. I live a bit off the beaten path.”