“Come on, sweetheart,” he says, dropping his voice low. “What do you have to lose?”
“My dignity. Now go away.”
“I—”
“Pretty sure she said no, buddy. Twice now, actually.”
We both whip our heads toward a new voice. A man—a very handsome one at that—sits two seats away. He’s not looking our way, but it’s obvious he’s talking to us.
“I suggest you listen to her.” His words might be calm, but there’s no denying the underlying threat in them:I suggest you listen to her, or I’ll make you listen.
Chivalrous, really, but I don’t need someone to fight my battles, especially not some random guy who is probably just as bad as all the rest.
“I can take care of myself,” I snap at him before turning back to Married Guy. “He’s right. I did say no. Now, get lost before I take a picture of you and blast it all over social media with the hashtagcheater. I guarantee you it’d reach your wife before the end of the night,sweetheart.”
His eyes widen with surprise, then just as quickly fall to slits. Everything about him changes in that moment. He goes from smiling and playful to angry, as if it’smyfault he’s trying to cheat on his wife.
“You didn’t need to be such a bitch, you know,” he mutters, climbing off the stool and taking his foul-smelling beer with him.
“Better a bitch than a no-balls-having cheater!” I yell to his back before slamming back the rest of my drink to calm myself.
I set the glass down, unaware I was shaking until now. It’s not that I thought the guy was a real threat, but it still has me onedge, and I’m sure that has everything to do with my increasing distrust of men.
A deep, hearty laugh draws my attention, and I swing my head to the right, ready to tell Sir Eavesdropper he really needs to mind his own business, but the words never come out. I’m too distracted. I was wrong before; he’s not handsome—he’shot. Really, really hot.
So hot it immediately puts me on alert.What’s his game? What does he gain by playing the knight in shining armor to a stranger? What does he want from me? How can he break me?Just the thought of being broken again has that same anger from before flooding my veins, and I go from being enchanted by his looks to annoyed in a second flat.
“What’s so funny?” I snipe.
Another laugh, and all it does is piss me off more.
I glare at him. “What the hell is your problem, man?”
Finally, he turns to me, and if I thought his profile was hot, it’s nothing compared to getting a good look at him straight-on. Dark brows sit over a pair of hazel eyes that would make anyone stop and stare. Green peppered with flakes of gold I can see even from two seats away. A hint of scruff that’s entirely too enticing and dark hair peppered with a few gray streaks, making me wonder just how old this guy is.
And while he’s wearing a light blue button-up and gray dress pants, he doesn’t look like he’s trying too hard to impress people like Married Guy was. No, he looks comfortable. At ease. And possibly even a little familiar.
I squint, trying to figure out where I might know him from, but nothing comes to mind. I don’t know this man at all, which makes it even more annoying that he’s inserting himself where he doesn’t belong.
“Well?” I prompt when he says nothing.
He raises a single brow, then lifts his drink—some kind of whiskey from the looks of it—and takes a swig before he flicks his chin toward the empty glass sitting in front of me. “Want another drink?”
I glance down at it, then back at him. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say no. To tell this guy off. Tell him to mind his own business and that I don’t need someone to rescue me. That I’m doing just fine on my own.
But instead, I say, “Yes.”
He grins and waves the bartender over. “Another Macallan, please. Neat. And whatever the lady wants.”
The bartender looks at me.
“Amaretto sour. Extra cherries.”
He nods, then takes off to grab our drinks while the handsome stranger gets up and moves two stools closer.
What the…
But once he sits down next to me, unlike with Married Guy, I don’t get the overwhelming urge to move away.
