Broad-shouldered in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit.
Silver hair that looked intentional rather than aging, cropped short on the sides but with enough length on top to show a slight wave.
The kind of face that improved with time—strong jawline, laugh lines that suggested he used his smile sparingly but genuinely.
But it was his eyes that snagged me.
Dark blue, almost navy in this light, with an intensity that felt physical, like a caress.
"Most men would know better than to comment on a woman's drink order," I said, accepting my scotch from the bartender.
The corner of his mouth quirked up. "I'm not most men."
"That line usually work for you?"
"I don't usually need lines." He signaled to the bartender. "The same."
I took a sip, the scotch warming my throat. Good quality—smoky with a hint of sweetness.
Like him.
The thought came unbidden and unwelcome.
"Bride or groom?" I asked, the standard wedding small talk.
"Neither, technically. Business associate of the father of the bride."
I nodded.
"Friend of the maid of honor."
"Ah. The dreaded plus-one."
He accepted his scotch with a nod of thanks.
"The role with all the social obligations and none of the emotional investment."
That startled a genuine laugh from me.
"You've clearly done this before."
"More times than I care to count." He studied me over the rim of his glass, his gaze a tangible weight.
"Though usually with less interesting company."
It was a practiced compliment, delivered with the confidence of a man who knew his effect on women.
I should have found it off-putting. Instead, I felt a traitorous flutter in my stomach.
"What makes you think I'm interesting?" I asked. "You know nothing about me."
"I know you drink scotch at a wedding where the open bar offers fifteen different kinds of artisanal cocktails. I know you came with the maid of honor but let her wander off while you found the bar. And I know that dress wasn't chosen to blend in."
Heat crept up my neck. "Maybe I just like scotch."
"Maybe." He didn't look convinced. "Or maybe you're tired of playing a role you've outgrown."
The accuracy of his assessment felt invasive.
