Page 10 of Naughty or Nice?
As a pleasant warmth settles over me and I hit just the right amount of tipsiness, I’m enjoying myself. I’m dabbling in great conversation with an interesting older man that just so happens to be my ex’s father.
But who really cares?
It’s not like we’re not allowed to chat. It’s not as if I didn’t genuinely happen upon The Tavern and run into him at the bar counter.
Nicholas Whittler is unlike his son in many ways.
From his thick, hearty laugh and addictive sense of humor to his easygoing yet tough and masculine nature. He’s the kind ofman who could chop down a tree and heave an armful of heavy logs inside to start a fire, and then wind up laughing with you over hot cocoa.
It doesn’t hurt that he’s attractive for an older man. Not just for a man in his fifties either, but a man ofanyage, really.
His white beard frames his square face and offsets his twinkling hazel eyes. The wrinkles he does have, like the slight lines bracketing his eyes and furrowing his brow, are signs of his age, but in an attractive silver fox sort of way. They denote his maturity. His wisdom and experience.
He’s a man who knows what he likes. What he wants.
Who he is.
The total opposite of Nate in that regard, who’s chasing after promotions at work and making marriage proposals he doesn’t mean.
We laugh over a story Nicholas tells me about first starting The Tavern. He’d struggled deciding on a name for the bar.
“I tried being a smartass,” he explains. “I figured I’d name the bar… Bar. Simple, right? Easy to remember. Then I realized what a challenge it would be any time someone tried to Google my place. You try finding a restaurant titled Restaurant. Doesn’t work, does it?”
I laugh, sipping from my spiced mulled wine. “So you decided The Tavern was better?”
“Less common. Plus, look around you. The place looks like a tavern. It seemed fitting.”
“It’s very cozy. I like it. I felt comfortable as soon as I came in.”
He grins at me. “Good to hear. Especially from a woman coming out for drinks alone.”
“Something I’ve never done before. I’m not even a big drinker.”
“I’ll let you in on a little secret.” He leans halfway over the counter and drops his voice to a whisper. “Me neither.”
“Really? But you own a bar. Several bars around the state.”
“Which makes me a good judge of character on the business. I can view it from a professional, not personal, point of view. Don’t get me wrong—I enjoy a good ale every so often.” He raises his half-full pint before he takes another swig. “But I keep it to a minimum. My health’s more important.”
I smirk. “I see. You’re in excellent shape for your age.”
“For my age? I forget I’m no spring chicken anymore.” He chuckles good-naturedly.
“I didn’t mean it like that. Actually, you’re in better shape than a lot of guys in their twenties. Way too many of them have beer guts.”
“No need to explain. I’m not ashamed of my age. I’m grateful to be fifty-four. It’s a blessing that I consider myself fortunate to have achieved.”
“Most women like an older man,” I blurt out.
“That’s good to know. Too bad I haven’t had the guts to pursue anyone since Laura—or any interest to either.”
“We’re in the same boat. I’m not sure I’ll be interested in another man anytime soon.”
“Doesn’t mean other men won’t be interested in you.” He winks at me, taking another drink from his ale.
My whole face warms up. “You really should stop complimenting me. Nate told me I’m not his type. His exact words.”
“Nate doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about. Any man can take one look at you and see you’re a catch.”