Kayla Morrison, single mother of twins, knows the answers to three questions: It's been two years since she's shared someone's bed, fourteen months since her last date, and her most recent kiss was on New Year's Eve, so it doesn't even count. When...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Photo by Daniel Norris on Unsplash.
Throughout the concert, Kayla and the attractive man beside her exchanged glances and smiles. During one song, the audience on its feet swaying and singing along to the ballad, their arms pressed against each other and neither moved away.
At the intermission, he invited her to join him for a drink at the concession bar. Since she wasn't driving--oh, how that limo was coming in handy--she agreed. He handed her the plastic cup of champagne and clicked his plastic cup of bourbon on the rocks against it.
"Cheers," she said.
"Slainte," he said. She sipped her drink, enjoying the bubbles, then tilted her head.
"'Slainte,' huh? What is that from anyway? I should know this."
"Ah, for your first trivia question of the night. Is it a toast from the Italian, Irish, or Welsh?"
She laughed. "I'll guess..." She stopped and gave him a long, assessing look. "Did you know I won this ticket playing a radio trivia game?"
"Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't."
"That would be some coincidence. Who are you?"
He grinned at her. "Guess the correct answer and I'll tell you."
She felt a little creeped out. Who was this guy?
There was something about his voice that was very familiar. "Do you work at the radio station or something?" That actually made sense. They probably bought a bunch of tickets. For all she knew, this guy had won a ticket, too.
"Go ahead, guess. Slainte. German, Welsh, or Irish?"
She took another sip of her champagne and studied him over the rim. He wasn't giving anything away. "You mixed up the choices. Before you said 'Italian' not 'German,' so I'm guessing it is either Irish or Welsh."
She knew the answer. The question was, did she REALLY want to know anything more about this mystery man? Wouldn't it be better to just have a harmless flirtation during the concert, something to remember later on like the limo ride and the after-concert meet and greet? Besides, what if he was some sort of creep?
He raised his eyebrows and grinned at her. "You've got a fifty-fifty chance. What's it going to be?"
She had to admit it. This guy was cute. Two years without sex, she thought. One kiss that didn't count on New Year's Eve. Fourteen months since her last date.
"Irish Gaelic for the win!" she said, and then she drained her glass and danced around like she'd won the lottery or something. She stopped in front of him, put a hand on her hip. "Now. Tell me who you are and how you know about the trivia game."
