Read A Is for Alpha Male for Free Online

couple days of scruff. His hair was long enough to curl around his neck, was chocolate brown in color, and held natural highlights that a woman would pay good money for. He, however, was hiding most of it under a backward, black, fitted baseball cap.
    His eyes were sparkling with mischief, and if you didn’t look closely you could mistake them to be amber in color. But oh no, they were better than that, a brilliant wheat-like gold in the center ensconced in a barrier of rich green around the outside.
    I guess that meant they were hazel. But shit, they were the best depiction of hazel I had ever seen. If hazel eyed people had meetings, he would definitely be their regional representative.
    Maybe even national.
    Jesus, how had I not noticed him before this moment?
    He’d been here the whole damn night. He was the bartender, or so it would appear. It was either that or he was taking quite the liberties going back there to get his own drink.
    I must have even ordered our drinks from him for Christ sakes.
    And to top it all off, I had to crane my neck upward to look at him from my bar stool, so by guestimation, I would say he came in at around six feet, three inches or so. That was a whole lot of man to miss.
    It’s amazing how in your own world you can be.
    “Touché. I guess I don’t, but it sure seems like it. You’ve still got that wholly optimistic glow,” he told me, snapping me out of my reverie slash hotness factor perusal.
    Avoiding that and moving on, I questioned, “So I guess you heard the list, huh?” After a nod of confirmation I added, “And you remember it?”
    He smiled, shook his head, and informed me, “Oh yeah.” His eyes were pointed downward but the feeling expressed in them was intense and rueful. Looking back up and looking me right in the eye, he continued, “You know how they say an elephant never forgets?” Without waiting for my answer, he went ahead and finished, “Well, I never ever fucking forget.”
    My recently waxed brow attempted to arch in response, and he must have gotten the message despite my lack of prowess, because he didn’t waste any time filling me in. “I have one of those hyperactive memories. Literally remember everything. Day, time, location, event. If I was there or I paid witness to it, I remember it.”
    My head inclined slightly to the side, a subconscious act of compassion, as I murmured, “A blessing and a curse.”
    Genuine surprise overwhelmed his features as he murmured, “Most people only see the blessings.”
    Wow. Really?
    Shit, I had plenty of stuff I was thankful to forget. Only someone who had lived a life with perfect choices and experiences wouldn’t want to forget something every once and a while.
    “I have plenty of memories I’m happy to have the ability to scrub. It must suck balls to have to hold onto every shitty memory in vivid detail.”
    Rugged McDimple Cutie continued to stare at me, his eyes assessing in a way that made me nervous enough to push the conversation onward. Besides, I didn’t even know his name yet.
    “So, what’s your name?”
    He paused for a half of a beat and then said, “Dan Smith.”
    A startled laugh barked out of my throat, but I had to ask. “You’re joking, right?”
    As if perfectly timed, a loud-mouthed male patron shouted out, “Danny! I’d love another drink!” while trying to get his attention. Apparently, I was making him lax in his bar tending duties.
    Also, I guess he wasn’t kidding.
    Dan . Fucking. Smith .
    Cosmic joke, anyone?
    Danny served the guy at the other end of the bar quickly and was back in front of me before I could get my brain to move on.
    Still unable to grasp the fact that his name was Dan Smith, I queried, “Am I on Candid Camera?”
    Both dimples popped out again, the light winking flirtatiously off of the scruff highlighted by the shift in his face, and he answered, “Well, that show ended about a decade ago. So, I’d say no.”
    Right. I better move on or he was really