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She snagged the Fuck Hockey jar, gave Andy a smug smile, and walked over to the cash register, where she left it before making her way down to the other end of the bar.
She stopped in from of her defender. He didn’t look up.
She waited, her palms getting sweaty and her nerve wearing thin. She was half a second away from the embarrassment burning her cheeks to develop into spontaneous combustion when the man laid his phone screen-down on the bar and looked her straight in the eyes—not at her tits where guys normally focused but at her very boring, very ordinary brown eyes.
Her stomach did a flip-flop-shimmy thing as she tried to remember what in the fuck she was about to say. Had she planned that far? She couldn’t remember.
Finally, inspiration struck.
“I’m Astrid.” She held out her hand like this was a job interview. “Thank you for before.”
Okay. Fine. It was dorky, but it counted as an opening.
“Good to meet you.” He reached out and shook her hand, his larger one engulfing hers and sending little jolts of awareness up her arm and to all places north and south. “Cal.”
Pull it together, girl. You have talked to men before. That’s all he is. Just a man.
She released his hand without drooling or moaning or something else equally embarrassing and focused on small talk. She was behind the bar, for fuck’s sake. Small talk was a bartender’s stock in trade.
“New to the neighborhood?” she asked as she took the damp towel off her shoulder and wiped at a nonexistent wet spot on the bar.
He shook his head. “Just a short-term resident.”
That made any kind of long-term relationship practically an impossibility, which made him about as close to perfect for her as it could get.
“Actor, consultant, or thief about to execute the heist of a lifetime?” she asked.
“You could say consultant.” He pulled a Cheeto out of the now half-empty bag she’d given him earlier and ate it.
“Damn,” she said, slapping the towel back over her shoulder. “I had my money on thief.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” he said with an aw-shucks tone that didn’t fit with the badass avenger he’d been earlier.
She grinned at him. “I’ll try to find a way to forgive you.”
He pulled another Cheeto out of the bag. “Will this help?”
She eyeballed the crunchy orange twig of deliciousness as if she was considering his offer with all seriousness before accepting. “Well, seeing how that was my dinner, it’s only fair.”
“You gave me your dinner?” he asked as if she’d scrambled a Faberge egg for him.
“I have a full fridge at home.” She sucked the orange powder off her fingertips, enjoying the way his eyes darkened as he watched. “And the person I’m filling in for should be here any minute, so I’ll be fine.”
He took a drink of his pint before asking, “So you’ll be off soon?”
And this—finally—was familiar territory. Usually the men she considered sleeping with didn’t throw her off her game like Cal did. That was the beauty of knowing that anything that happened was just for fun and there was no chance of her heart getting involved. It made everything easier.
“Mmmm-hmmm,” she said with a nod.
He downed the rest of his pint and set the glass back down carefully on the coaster, like a man who had been raised not to leave rings on the table. “Any plans since you missed dinner?”
“Are you trying to ask me out?” she asked, setting his empty glass behind the bar.
He gave a self-deprecating snort and shook his head. “I’d say failing if you have to ask that.”
“Maybe I just prefer people who say what they really want.” She rested her forearms on the bar and leaned close, dropping her volume. “Do you really want to have dinner with me?”
He shook his head. “No.”
