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“Hmm.” With a shrug, he spun to face me and walked backward to the table. “Women like men with jobs, so if it comes up, you’re better off collecting garbage with me than pretending to be unemployed.” He smirked and turned around again. “Hey, pretty ladies.”
This was going to be a disaster. Especially since the gorgeous blond had her head bowed and was studying her ballet flats, clearly not interested in our company, while the women I didn’t want to deal with were watching me like I was their next conquest. Not happening. There was not a single spark of interest in my body for either of them.
“Hello there.” Smirking, the redhead held up her wine and tipped it our way. “Aren’t you two looking happy”—she waved the glass at Emerson first, then turned to me—“and pissed, all at the same time.”
I frowned but didn’t bother with a response. No, I was too busy watching the woman who’d piqued enough interest in me to drag me across the room.
As if my attention were a physical caress, she lifted her head and focused on me. Like a tranquil lake in the afternoon sun, her eyes sparkled. I wanted to dive in and get lost in them. Fuck, I sounded like a bad poem. I blinked twice but couldn’t shake myself free of the spell her gaze had put me under. And she didn’t look away from me either.
“Don’t worry about Dragon.” Emerson moved in, knocking his IPA against the wooden surface as he claimed the spot between the ginger and the brunette.
He could have them. I stepped closer to the blond. Her mouth turned up slightly on one side, the hint of movement making my chest pinch.
“My friend is just generally constipated.”
Stomach lurching, I whipped to the right and glared at my teammate.I was what?
He smirked at me. “I can’t help that you have to deal with constant constipation.”
“Wow, what an opening line.” The brunette laughed.
I still hadn’t found words.
“He refused to let me tell you I was a garbage man, so there wasn’t much else I could say.”
“Holy hell,” I snapped.
The two women flanking my teammate laughed.
“I’m just going to…” The blond pointed toward the hallway near the back. The sign above it readRestroom. “I’ll be back.”
Based on the way she averted her gaze, I was pretty sure she was planning an escape from the man she now thought had issues taking a shit. How very attractive.
I might kill Emerson tonight.
Before I could stop her, she slipped away. I tracked her as she went, unable to pull my gaze from the light denim covering the perfect peach-shaped ass. A crop tank top and jeans weren’t high fashion, but damn, she made it look like it was. Her blond hair was pulled into a ponytail, the curled ends hanging past the light blue top that clung to her. Heads turned as she moved through the space, and I wanted to follow behind her just to rip each of the fucking guys’ eyes out for thinking they had the right to stare at her ass.
“Dragon?”
I turned.
“I’m Wren.” The brunette leaned in. With one arm resting on the table in front of her, the move caused her breasts to lift and push up into the deep scoop of her red shirt.
I kept my focus trained on her face. She wore too much makeup for my taste.
She tilted her head to one side, her dark hair falling over her shoulder. “Do you believe in sex without commitment?”
I clenched my teeth. There was no good answer to that question. Did I? Sure. I was a moody asshole with a short fuse. People got sick of me as fast as I got tired of them. But I wasn’t a fucking a trophy forwomen to brag about. And since I’d made it to the majors, I’d discovered how many women were interested in just that. Saying that aloud, though, made me sound like a pompous dick. At least that’s what my teammates had told me the last time I mentioned it to a woman.
Plus, the only woman in the bar who piqued my interest had fled the moment I approached. So I didn’t bother answering the question. I didn’t plan to stick around if the blond woman didn’t come back quick.
I scowled.
“Dragon’s more like a good scotch than a beer.” Emerson took a sip of his drink.
“Perfect.” Wren smirked.
Her friend, though, only frowned.
