Beautifully Complicated (Front Range University #4)

2. Kier

Chapter two

Kier

A ngelic.

That’s the only way to describe the face of the man sitting next to me in the bar. High cheekbones, smooth fair skin under a crop of dirty blond hair, eyes the same amber as the whiskey in front of him.

He barely looks old enough to drink, let alone a spirit like that, but when he says pardon after I ask him to pass a napkin that puzzle piece falls into place. He’s an old soul contained in the body of a young man, with an innocent face and wise eyes.

He seems oddly familiar, though I’d swear I’ve never laid eyes on him before, and the only conclusion I can draw from that is that my own ancient soul recognizes his.

Ironic, considering I’m often accused of being on the cutting edge in my work life, but I’ve never thought of myself as modern. I suspect this man has never regarded himself that way either. After all, what twenty-something chooses a dark pub over a flashy club for a drink.

One that drinks whiskey and looks like he’d rather curl up with a good book than go dancing.

Not that he couldn’t fit in at a club. Button down shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, a subtle diamond pattern woven into the fabric that you can only see at certain angles. Dark wash jeans that are slim enough to hug his lean legs without appearing too tight. Trendy white sneakers.

It’s not a flashy outfit, but it wouldn’t be out of place at a lively bar. It’s not out of place here either, much like my own similar ensemble, minus my staple sport coat to go over the shirt.

Timeless.

Yes, I feel an instant closeness to the man who in many ways reminds me of myself despite the fact we’ve barely said ten words to each other. But while he’s an old soul he’s obviously barely legal, and I’m not that guy.

I thank him for the napkins and start to mop up the drink I knocked over when I first caught sight of him and misjudged the distance to the bar trying to set my glass down.

Flustered. Me.

In my defense, he really is quite beautiful, and lost in thought with a pensive smile on his face that hinted at intelligence as well as beauty… Well, as I said, I’m not that guy. I won’t—

“May I buy you a drink?” His voice is more assured than I expected it to be given the soft nature of his features, and aside from the slight pink in his cheeks that betrays his nerves, he holds himself with an air of confidence that’s surprisingly sexy. Paired with those full lips and… damn .

He’s a vision.

I really shouldn’t, but my own glass is nearly empty now, and I can’t deny I’m curious. Some innocent conversation would be nice, and… The man licks his plump lips, and all my objections evaporate. “I’d like that.”

He motions to the bartender, and I order another IPA.

“Aiden.” He holds his hand out.

“Kier,” I reply, noting—and loving—the firm grip he uses to shake my hand.

“That’s a very Irish name, but you don’t look or sound Irish.” Aiden regards me thoughtfully, like he’s trying to puzzle me together the same way I did him earlier.

“I’m not. My adoptive parents are though.”

“So, if I asked you to choose between the Rovers and the Bohemians, you’d know what I’m referring to?”

“Of course I would.” I gnaw on the inside of my cheek, intrigued.

“And?”

“Neither. Those are Dublin teams, and my parents are from Northern Ireland.” My eyes track over his inquisitive face, fascinated.

“Hmm.” A small grin plays on Aiden’s lips, which are so impossibly pink and lush it takes a fair amount of restraint not to stare at them.

“Hmm?” I lift my brow as the bartender sets a beer in front of me. “Which of those was the wrong answer?”

“Neither.” Aiden swirls his glass with a coy smile. “But my brother-in-law would be disappointed in me if I’d bought a drink for a bloody Bohemian .”

“Ah.” Another puzzle piece clicks into place. “Is it safe to assume this brother-in-law is responsible for your taste in Irish Whiskey?”

“It is.”

I’m tempted to ask when that occurred, since he can’t be much older than twenty-one, but since this can’t go beyond a little harmless flirting, I decide his age doesn’t matter.

“So, if I asked you to recommend a good one, you’d say…”

“Knappogue Castle.” His eyes find mine over the rim of his glass as he takes a sip.

“Is that what you’re drinking?”

“God no.” He sets the tumbler on the bar. “This is Jameson. I don’t have Knappogue unless my brother-in-law is buying.”

I find myself trying to bite back a smile. “So, you’re a frugal connoisseur?”

“That’s one way to put it.” His cheeks flush slightly.

“What’s another way?”

“Cheap.” He shrugs bashfully, like that’s some kind of flaw, though I find his honesty endearing.

“A cheap man wouldn’t have offered to buy me a drink.”

Another modest shrug. “Looked like you needed another one.”

“Perceptive.”

“I try to be.” Aiden’s voice drifts off as his brow furrows slightly, giving me the distinct impression there’s something distressing behind that angelic exterior. But the self-assured, sweet boy is back so fast I wonder if I imagined that brief moment of sadness. “So, how does a guy with Irish parents end up a beer drinker?”

I hold up my pint glass and study it curiously, wondering where that question came from. “Lots of Irish people drink beer.”

“I’m sorry, a not Guinness beer drinker?” he clarifies.

“What sort of crap did your brother-in-law teach you about the Irish?” I arch a playful brow.

A cute little wrinkle separates his. “That they only drink whiskey and Guinness, apparently.”

“And you believed him?” I don’t know why, but I get the sense Aiden is too smart a man to accept such a simplified, stereotypical classification.

“I was twelve, so yeah. And I never really had a reason to question it until now.”

That pink flush is back, and it’s doing things to me I’m not proud of, so I try to steer the conversation back to something that isn’t likely to bring out his bashful side.

“You’ve had a brother-in-law since you were twelve?”

“My sister’s thirteen years older than me.”

“How many siblings are between you two?” I sip my beer, expecting him to rattle off a list of names or use his fingers to keep track of them all. Needless to say, I’m shocked when he says “None.”

“None?” I repeat. “That’s…”

“I was quite the surprise.” Aiden rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

Is there any topic that doesn’t make this man blush?

Taking another sip, I prop my foot on the rung of the barstool to ease the pressure in my pants. “I was too. For my birth parents anyway.”

“You know who they are?”

“I do, and let’s just say I dodged a bullet.”

“Same. Being so much younger than my sister I mean. Don’t get me wrong, I love her, but she’s very dramatic, and I like calm.”

Such an old soul.

“That explains why you like this place.” I glance at the room around us, which resembles the pubs my parents took me to in Ireland.

“I’ve actually never been here before,” Aiden says thoughtfully. “I just saw the flag in the window when I was passing by and figured I’d check it out.”

“Same.” Same? Since when do I talk like a college student?

Aiden must find that as out of character as I do given the curious smile he gives me, but oddly, I don’t feel foolish for using the term. I feel strangely comfortable.

“So, if you aren’t from Ireland—” Aiden gives me a coy smile “—where are you from?”

“Ohio.”

“Oh.” His brow furrows in a way that I just know means he’s trying to think of a follow-up and coming up blank.

“It’s driving you crazy, isn’t it?” I bite back a laugh. “You want to ask about that and have no idea where to start.”

“I really don’t.” He laughs right along with me. “What’s life like in Ohio?”

“Basic.” There I go again, talking like I’m his age, but since it makes him smile, I figure what the hell. “Cold in the winter, humid in the summer. Fall is incredible though.”

“Football?” Aiden assumes.

“That too, but I was thinking about the leaves. Then winter comes and you watch a lot of movies.”

“I can relate. Cold weather and I aren’t the best of friends. Outside the ski slopes anyway.”

“How does that work? You don’t like the cold but you’re a skier?” This man is full of contradictions.

“Snowboarder. And while you’re snowboarding you don’t notice the cold. Sitting on the chairlift is miserable, of course, and every time I get on it, I ask myself why I willingly put my body through the torture it takes to get to the top. But as soon as you start gliding down the hill you forget all about the misery you just endured because it’s so freeing.”

“You paint a very different picture than what I imagined.”

“What did you imagine?”

“A tangle of arms and legs going in a million different directions.”

Aiden tosses his head back with a deep, full laugh. “That does happen in the beginning. But once you get the hang of it it’s unbelievably fun. Sort of like floating on land.”

“You almost make it sound pleasant enough to try.”

“What would convince you it’s worth it? Other than the joy of floating?”

“Assurances that I wouldn’t freeze, for one,” I mutter as I sip my beer.

“That’s the one thing I can’t give you, although I can promise you’ll warm up once you’re off the chair lift. And if you’re really worried about it, they make all sorts of gadgets to ease the cold like hand and foot warmers, electric jackets—”

“There’s such a thing as electric jackets?” I gape at him, wondering why this is the first I’m hearing of it.

“Well, they’re actually battery-powered, but they do have heating elements in them.”

“Huh. Maybe I’ll have to put it on the list of things to try.”

“Is that a long list?” His long black lashes seem to brush the very tops of his cheeks as he blinks.

“Sadly, no. I’m not what you’d consider an adventurous person.”

“Depends on your definition of adventurous.” His eyes stay locked on mine as he sips his drink, and I nearly forget to respond since I’m so busy cataloging how they shine even in the dim light of the room.

“Active. Athletic. That sort of thing,” I say when I recover.

“Pardon me for saying so, but you don’t look like you aren’t athletic.”

Glancing down my own slim frame, it’s my turn to go a little red. “I’m not sure running counts as adventurous.”

“Again, depends on your definition.”

“What’s yours?” I fling my gaze to my drink when he starts chewing on his lip.

“Getting outside your comfort zone,” he concludes with a modest grin.

“You do that often?”

“No, but I did offer to buy you a drink, so I’m working on it.” He holds his glass up, penetrating gaze locked on mine, and our glasses clink together before I realize I’ve decided to move my arm.

Dear God, it’s like he’s put me in a trance.

Eyes locked on each other, we sip our drinks as is customary. Then we set them on the bar, watching. Waiting. For what, I’m not sure, but neither of us seem inclined to look away, as if we’ll miss something vital if we do. Something that can’t be put into words but can be spoken all the same. A feeling maybe, or a question.

It’s not until the clatter of an empty bottle hitting the trash can breaks our concentration that we’re startled back to the present.

“So, you’re also a football fan?” Aiden’s the first to recover.

“Guilty.” That one word is all I seem capable of saying after our… moment .

“Me, too. I tried not to be since it’s so over-hyped, but it’s hard to ignore something you’re surrounded by, so eventually I caved.”

“Have you got a favorite team?” I finally find my voice.

“Oh, no.” He shakes his head as if in warning, though his toffee eyes have a playful twinkle in them. “Nothing can derail a perfectly good conversation as fast as finding out you’re talking to a rival fan.”

“True, but you know I’m from Ohio and we’re still talking, so you must figure I’m not a rival fan.”

“Being from Ohio doesn’t automatically make you a fan of the teams there. Plenty of people choose their team for something besides geography. Besides, Ohio has a few teams, so even if one of them were a rival to mine there’s a fifty/fifty chance you wouldn’t support it.”

“That’s a fair point, but you have to admit geography is usually a pretty good indicator.”

“Not for me.”

“What’s your deciding factor then?”

Aiden traps his lips between his teeth like he’s trying to decide how much he can say without giving away his reasoning. “Proximity to a superfan,” he answers.

“And that means…”

“I’ve been subjected to my best friend’s favorite team for so long it became mine.” Aiden’s voice is kind of resigned, and I’m tempted to get to the bottom of that when he once again changes the subject.

“What are some of your favorite movies?” Aiden props an elbow on the bar and rests his head on his hand, all but forgetting his drink and focusing on me.

At the risk of sounding like a jerk, that’s nothing new. As an expert in my field, I’ve often got the rapt attention of people I’m speaking to, but Aiden’s interest is personal rather than professional, giving it an intimate air. It’s been a while since people were curious about me as opposed to what I know, and I like it.

Unfortunately, I doubt we’ll find common ground here, since I have to be at least a decade older than him.

“I’m not sure you’d recognize my favorites since they’re probably from a different era than yours.”

“Thirteen-year age difference, remember.” He smiles knowingly. “Try me.”

“Okay. I never saw an M. Night Shyamalan film that didn’t leave me speechless at the end. Or a comedy by the Coen brothers that didn’t leave me with a stomach ache from laughing.”

“Did they direct American Pie?”

“I don’t think so. The Big Lebowski is probably my favorite of theirs.”

“The dude abides.” Aiden’s grin is so wide it’s infectious. “What else?”

“The Shawshank Redemption. I mean, M. Night Shyamalan is the king of the twisted ending, but I was floored when Shawshank ended.”

“For me that was Fight Club.”

“You’ve seen Fight Club?” I bite back a grin for the umpteenth time since we started talking.

“Um, a totally ripped Brad Pitt? Yes, please.”

“You’re all about the sexy, shirtless men, huh?”

“I mean, they don’t hurt.” He turns a little pink again. “But Fight Club really shocked me when the truth was revealed. I never saw it coming.”

“Yeah, that ending was unexpected.”

“So, you like psychological thrillers and comedies?” Aiden sums up my choices.

“I guess I gravitate towards them, yeah. But I like a good action movie here and there.”

“Have you seen the Matrix?” he asks.

“Who hasn’t? That movie was life changing.”

Aiden sits up taller, intrigued. “How so?”

I don’t want to get into work talk, and how all that code filtering over the screen was the impetus for the career I’ve built trying to merge computers with human functionality. So, I simplify the answer. “The special effects of course, where time seemed to stand still. Movies took on a whole new quality after that.”

Aiden’s toffee eyes regard me so intensely I wonder if he can tell that’s only a partial answer. But if he senses I’ve left anything out, he doesn’t press the issue.

“True.” He nibbles on a plump limp, contemplating, and I have to pinch my leg to force my eyes off them.

“What are some of your favorites?” I ask. “Any era.”

He gets that wistful look on his face again, something I equate to an intelligent mind that’s constantly firing, and once again I have a visceral reaction in places that shouldn’t be awake right now.

“I was hooked on Marvel movies as a kid, and once I was old enough my dad started showing me what he considered the classics. Caddyshack, Airplane, Monty Python and the Holy Grail—that’s my favorite. Shrek.”

“Your dad thinks Shrek is a classic?”

“It was the first animated movie that had adult humor, or so he said. To this day he can’t watch the part about the gingerbread man without laughing so hard he actually cries.”

“I haven’t thought about Shrek in years, but I suddenly have a desire to watch it right now.”

“It’s surprisingly entertaining.” He blinks a few times and ducks his head as though he can’t fathom he just said that.

“So, animated movies? You’re a fan?” I ask him.

Aiden goes to sip his drink only to realize it’s empty, the perfect opportunity for me to say thank you and leave like the responsible man I’m supposed to be. The one who doesn’t chase after men with siblings my age. Yet I can’t bring myself to stand up. Not when every nerve in my body is humming simply from being in his presence.

So, rather than do the sensible thing, I do something reckless. “Can I buy you a drink this time?”