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She sucked in a breath and I knew she was beyond mad. “I don’t force anyone to change—in fact, I encourage the opposite. If you rock the geek-chic look, I only want to kick it up a notch. To highlight your best version of you so you feel as confident as possible. It’s necessary, because dating sucks so damn much.” Eva’s dark glare looked ready to implode, but a moment later the rage was gone, replaced by a sea of calm. “Believe it or not, not all men have your arrogance.”
“Confidence,” I shot back with a grin. “You said confidence.”
“Yours is arrogance, maybe even conceit.”
“Ouch,” I said and rubbed my chest. “I thought confidence was sexy,” I wondered and leaned in, invading her space and noting the way her gray eyes darkened, her pupils dilated. It was want, pure and simple.
“Didn’t we already establish that what you have is beyond confidence?” Eva tapped her chin and leaned forward, her lips barely an inch from mine. The moment was tense. Electric.
I moved forward and our lips brushed, barely. Eva jumped back as if I’d burned her. “I can’t.” She shook her head, almost like she was reminding herself, too.
“But you want to.”
Eva nodded and took another step back toward the table, distracting herself with putting away the leftover food. “Not the point, but yes. Thank you for helping with the dishes. And for helping Mama.”
“No problem. She’s crazy, but I like her.” That much was true of both Vargas women, but Eva was too on edge to hear that. “See you in my dreams, Eva.” I gave her a little wave and exited the kitchen, wondering why in the hell I was flirting with Eva Vargas, of all people.
Because it was so damn fun, that’s why.Eva“Why don’t you just set yourself up with the pretty boy? Obviously, there’s chemistry between you.” Sage, the super hot bartender at Carriage House, leaned over, showing off his tattooed forearms and panty-melting smile while he asked me wildly inappropriate questions.
“Chemistry isn’t everything,” I told him over an ice-cold, very stiff martini. “Besides, this one isn’t for me.” I nodded toward the table where Oliver sat with date number two, a gorgeous corporate attorney with her own home plus a vacation home in Florida. She drove a luxury vehicle, and loved big city nightlife and jet-setting vacations. In a word, she was perfect for Oliver.
“No offense, sweetheart, but I call bullshit.” Sage shook his head and pushed off the bar, uncapping two bottles for the truckers at the end of the bar. “I know all about the bet and the stakes.”
“And you have an opinion?”
He nodded. “I do. I think you both are idiots, too stubborn or willfully blind to see what’s right in front of you.”
“And I think maybe you need a night off, Sage. You’re seeing things that aren’t there.” Maybe there was a little bit of jealousy when Carly leaned over and put a hand on his forearm, and the appreciative look Oliver sent her way.
The date was going well, it seemed. They hadn’t taken their eyes off one another for more than ten minutes, which meant that my work was done. I paid my tab and flashed a flirtatious smile at Sage. “See you later, handsome.”
“Not if I see you first,” he said with a wink, casting one last look at Oliver and Carly. “You sure?”
“Absolutely.” I made the short trek to The Mayflower, where I knew the girls would be waiting for me. A much better alternative than watching Oliver. It would be much sweeter when I won the bet.
“Eva, over here!” Sophie stood on the rim of her barstool and waved me over through the thick throng of people filling the bar.
I squished through the crush of bodies, dancing, standing around and drinking, laughing over the songs on the jukebox, even pushing my way between a couple joined at the lips. “Sheesh! What is going on here tonight?”
Olive shrugged. “There’s a rumor that Declan Kassidy is in the area and might show up here tonight!” Declan was a hometown boy who was now the lead singer for the biggest pop country crossover band in North America. “I hope he comes tonight!”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “Olive’s a little excited. And tipsy.”
“Just a little,” she confirmed, holding her thumb and forefinger less than an inch apart. “How was the date?”
“Still going,” I confirmed. “Looked promising when I left.” I ignored the pang of something in my gut and stole Sophie’s margarita, managing to suck down two big gulps before she took it back.
“Perfect timing.” Sophie smiled. “It’s your turn to buy. Strawberry margaritas. Frozen.”
“Sounds perfect.” This was exactly what I needed—a night out with my friends, no work worries plaguing me. No thoughts of Oliver or his column trying to destroy me. Just margaritas and my girls.
