The Criminal

Ch. 3: Are you even wearing a bra?

I'm halfway through applying mascara when my phone vibrates, the rest of my face complete. I'm still in my underwear and have yet to decide on a dress for tonight's date with Robbie.

Robbie: Can't wait to see you! :)

That's cute.

Nicole: Me too! :)

I quickly decide on the red number, rather drawn to its boldness. I've had it a while, but tonight will be its official debut. I don't usually wear such vibrant colours, but the silk material and plunging neckline is a combination no woman on a first date can refuse. It slides on like a dream and feels heavenly against my skin, light and soft.

"You look fantastic, Nicole!" I tell my reflection.

My phone vibrates yet again, signalling my taxi's arrival.

We're meeting at a bar in town—The Grape Vine. It's been open a few months and is highly acclaimed. Gone are my wild University days, much to my liver's delight. I've mellowed since then and much prefer wine at a bar over a crazy night club.

"Thanks!" I say, offering my taxi driver a twenty.

I slip out of the car and am pleasantly surprised when I'm ushered in without so much as needing to queue. The walls are lined with plush velvet, softening the music as it pulses in from the main room. The colour scheme is made up of mostly purples and golds, both of which provide a calming atmosphere.

"Welcome to The Grape Vine," offers one of the bouncers, holding the entrance door open for me.

"Thanks!"

The music is a lot louder now, but nowhere near as loud as the music in a club. I weave my way through the crowd, securing a spot at the bar moments later. It's relatively busy, so I wait a while before being served.

"What can I get you?"

I recognise the voice coming from behind the bar. I frown and twist my head at the same time, locking eyes with tropical blues.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Hunter smirks.

"This is where you work?" I ask.

"No," he replies. "I just really like standing this side of the bar."

His mouth twitches with what I'm sure would be a smile if he was capable of such emotions. Truly, I'm mortified. I can think of nothing worse than Hunter witnessing my first date with a man who—let's be honest—I only agreed to meet as a way of distracting myself.

Fucking hell!

It doesn't help that he's watching my every move, stalking me like I'm his next meal. The white shirt he's wearing does very little in taming the array of neck tattoos he has, thanks to the open collar. I swear his eyes are brighter tonight, though they still carry their usual mischief. In fact, there's nothing calm or reserved about his current gaze. Hunter is hungry and he's making his intentions known. The lighting is low, yet still somehow manages to elevate the presence of blonde throughout his hair. The entire bar separates us, yet it feels like nothing when he leans across it, biceps bulging.

"I made a mistake," he says, speaking directly into my ear.

"About what?"

"About you wearing your grey skirt to Monday's session." His gaze lingers on my chest. "You should wear this instead."

I laugh.

"Are you even wearing a bra?"

"Jesus—Hunter! You can't just ask women if they're wearing underwear."