Blink: 1 (Rebel Minds) by C.B. Stone Page A

as defined as I’d thought, his strong jawline emphasized by a shading of dark brown stubble tinged with hints gold that glint in the flashes of poor lighting. His eyes capture mine, never leaving my face. They look to be a light blue, but it’s hard to tell. Could even be a silver-gray. My breath gets caught in my throat for a nanosecond, but I recover quickly.
    “I’m Aria. Wanna buy me a drink?” Blurting the words out, I shock myself. Chagrined, I sigh inwardly. Looks like tonight I am that girl.
    His eyes crinkle at the corners, and I think I see a faint dimple peek at me from his right cheek. Dimples. Of course he’d have dimples. You’re such a sucker, Aria. “Most definitely.”
    He pulls out the stool for me and I sit, the brush of my knee against his sending a shiver through me, curling my toes. Hard to do, incased as snugly as they are in canary yellow wedges. I think briefly of my worn, black combat boots, and long for them, shifting restlessly. It’s that spark of electricity again. I can’t help but feel like I know this man. As if I’ve seen him somewhere before. I realize I’m staring, and give myself a mental shake.
    No, I must be mistaken. I would remember those eyes, that jawline… my gaze drifts lower… the way his shirt pulls tight across his broad chest beneath that leather jacket. I squirm on the bar stool again, resisting an urge to fan myself. Is it just me, or is it getting warmer in this place? I feel the blood rushing to my cheeks, but can only pray it’s too dark in here for him to tell. I jerk my eyes back up to his. Safer territory. Kinda.
    “So tell me about yourself, Aria. Where do you get inspiration for your songs?” He glances to my left, signaling the bartender to bring us two drinks, then turns his attention back to me.
    Laughter bubbles up, escaping my lips before I can stop it. Is he playing me? Asking about my songs just to get me into bed? My brow furrows, a twinge of disappointment eating at me. It wouldn’t be the first time. Leaning closer, I peer into his eyes, looking for an angle. I can’t find one though. All I see honesty mixed with curiosity.
    All right then, buddy, you asked for it.

Chapter 4
    T he bartender places two drinks down in front of us, and I gratefully pick mine up, raise it in a quick toast of thanks, and gulp. The liquid burns on its way down, making my eyes water. I blink. Good old liquid courage. He lifts his own glass, the corner of his mouth tilting up, that dimple making the tiniest of appearances once more. Oh, brother.
    Thankfully I manage not to roll my eyes. I take a deep breath, and launch into a grand explanation of my past, present, and somewhat hopeful future. At first it starts off as me feeding him the same lines I always use when someone seems interested and I can’t quite figure them out. But it quickly turns into something else. The truth. I’m spilling my guts to this mysterious stranger named Wisdom, telling him all about my hopes and dreams, and I can’t seem to help myself. It’s like an episode of way-too-personal word vomit.
    “I—I don’t know that I’ve told many people much of that.”
    He leans forward, intent. The faint lights flash in his eyes, and I blink again, dazzled. “What do you mean?” His tone is quiet, husky. Intimate.
    “The truth.” I drop my gaze from his, embarrassed for some reason. Geez, Aria… overshare much?
    His hand, warm and firm, drops on top of mine. His fingers wrap around it gently. “Well, to be fair, I do tend to have that affect on women,” he deadpans.
    “I bet you do.” And just like that, I’m laughing, looking back into eyes that remind me of moonlight. Or maybe the ocean on a clear summer day. It’s like they keep changing color or something. My laughter fades and I clear my throat. “So, what’s your story, Wisdom?”
    For a moment, I think he isn’t going to answer me. Then he looks around the bar and leans in, his warm breath fanning over my bare shoulders,