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“Alex and I are in business together,” he said. “We’ve only known each other for a few months, so I’m surprised he invited me.”
“He’s nice like that,” I said awkwardly. He nodded in agreement, then moved his hand as the bartender slid our crystal glasses across the bar.
“How do you know them? You were one of the bridesmaids, right?” I was surprised he’d noticed me.
“Bridget is my sister,” I said. I didn’t know how he had the power to make me feel so nervous, like I was too big and too small all at once.
“Ah.” Finally, his eyes lifted from my face and scanned the room before returning. “I see the resemblance.” I laughed. I knew he was lying.
Bridget was technically my half-sister, and while we shared blood, that’s where all similarities ended. Her skin was darker than mine, her eyes green where mine were a dark brown. She dyed her hair blonde, which suited her more than it would ever suit me. Where I was too thin, she was beautifully curvy.
I’d always envied my sister, not in a hateful way or one that made me want to be her, but in how all women envied beautiful ones. With appreciation, but always with a slight layer of jealousy, wishing we could look like them.
“You’re an investor too?” I asked, and he shook his head.
“I have a startup. His company invested in mine.” I nodded as I took a small sip of the drink.
I liked the way it burned as it cascaded down my throat. I needed more alcohol not only to put up with my mother, but also to calm my nerves if this gorgeous stranger was going to continue talking to me.
We stared at each other for a moment, his eyes lingering on mine as he took a sip of his drink. They were a dark royal blue that twinkled with amusement.
“What do you do, Dani?” I cringed at the question. I didn’t want to tell him.
“I’m a server,” I mumbled and took another sip as I looked away in embarrassment.
“I was a server when I was your age,” he said, and I looked back at him. “I’m assuming you’re…what? Twenty-one?”
“Twenty-four,” I corrected, and he nodded. I lifted my brows expectantly, waiting for him to give his age, but he never did. Alright, so much older than twenty-four, I assumed.
He looked around, and I took the chance to check him out without him catching me. His shoulders were broad, his chest full and strong, arms strained against his suit. He was built, too built for a man his age. Why was he even talking to me? Maybe it was slim-pickings tonight and he couldn’t find anyone else. The thought made my stomach drop.
“If you need to get back to your date, I won’t keep you,” I said as I stepped away from him. His head snapped toward me, his dark brows bunched.
“Date?” he repeated, then shook his head. “I don’t have a date. But if you—”
“I’m here with my mom,” I said, then closed my eyes. Why the fuck would I say that?
“Well, it seems we’re both here alone, then,” he chuckled. I opened my eyes and stared up at him in surprise.
“Seems that way.”
“Thank God for that,” he murmured into his glass as he took a sip, a hidden smirk crinkling his eyes. I blinked at him.
“Why?”
“If I had a date, I wouldn’t get to spend the rest of my night with you,” he said baldly, and I nearly rolled my eyes.
“Was that your best line?” I teased, and he choked out a laugh, his throat bobbing.
“I thought it was a good one,” he shrugged. “Too cheesy?”
“A bit.” I smiled as I took a sip. My head was feeling fuzzy, the alcohol giving me both a warm buzz and more courage than I’d ever have sober.
“Obviously, I need to work on my pickup lines,” he said. “What can I do to win you over?” I grinned as I set the glass on the bar, my finger tracing the rim.
“Maybe some cake.” He laughed, then held his hand out.
“If that’s what you want, I’ll make it happen,” he said. I slid my hand into his and let him lead us through the crowd of people to the dessert table.
