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“I agree,” Sophie said matter-of-factly. “But that’s where a professional matchmaker could come in handy with background screenings and credit checks. We can weed out fortune hunters, gold diggers, scammers and the like.”
“Thanks, but right now I’m not interested. When men find out that I’m well off, they change. Always. Sometimes it’s subtle, like forgetting a wallet. Sometimes they just expect me to pick up the tab always just because I can. The others, they are more obvious, asking for cash outright or presenting me with endless investment opportunities.”
“I know all about that, and it’s part of the reason I started Time for Love.” At my surprised look, Sophie went on. “My family is loaded. There’s a town named after my great grandmother, kind of. They expected me to marry someone, anyone, who was from our social class, even though I hated them all.”
“You’re a Worthington?” She nodded. “Then you get it.”
“I do, and I ended up in love with my best friend, because I love him, but also because he was the only man I could let myself trust to want me for me.”
“I don’t have a best friend, but I do have a date. With Miles the hottie.” And I was excited about it. Our flirting banter was off the charts, and the chemistry was hot enough that I’d fantasized about kissing him, and more, at least ten times after he left the bakery yesterday.
Then, it was as if thinking about the man had made him appear. Miles walked in with a smile, surrounded by four other men, a couple I recognized from the barbecue, plus Xander, Mara’s fiancé and the town Sheriff. They made their way to our table, effectively ending girls’ night, which none of the women seemed to mind.
Not even me.
I kept my gaze on Miles while the others were greeted with intimate embraces and kisses that I didn’t need to see. “Hey you.”
“Hey back,” he said and ran a hand over his thick blond hair that was finally starting to grow out of some kind of buzzcut. “Care for a game of pool?”
Hell yes. I shrugged. “That depends.”
“On what?” He leaned in close, giving me a good long look at his big brown eyes that were actually three different shades.
“On how upset you’ll be when I wipe the felt with you.”
He leaned back in surprise. “Now sweetheart, that’s a challenge I can’t resist. Come on.” He held a hand out, his giant hand made mine feel small and utterly feminine.
“You can break,” I told him and moments later we were deep into a game of pool, flirting and talking smack. “Not bad.” Miles was strong, and the way he held the pool stick only highlighted the size and shape of his triceps as he sank three solid balls.
“Thanks.” He flashed a flirty grin at me and hit another ball, without look away.
“Show off.” I laughed at the boldness of the move and his playfulness when showing off.
“How else am I going to impress a pretty girl?”
The fact that he wanted to impressed me went a long way, especially because he was impressive in his own right. “The t-shirt helps. And your table skills.”
He missed the fifth ball and I walked around the table in search of a good opening shot. “You like my t-shirt?”
“It does nice things for your arms, which you know, I’m sure.”
Miles laughed and braced his hands on the side of the table. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I thought confidence was a requirement to be a Navy SEAL? Is it not?”
He laughed again, and this time it was full-throated and deep and gravelly. It was, in short, super hot. “There’s some truth to that. But my pool skills aren’t quite as impressive as my parachuting or sharpshooting, but I do all right.”
“Parachuting, is that fun?” I found the perfect shot, lined it up and sank two striped balls into the same pocket.
“Fun when it’s for recreation, sure. Otherwise you operate on pure adrenaline.” His gaze sharpened as I sank three more balls that put me in the lead.
“Sounds exciting. And terrifying.”
“That about sums it up.”
“Do you miss it?”
He nodded. “I miss the brotherhood mostly, but I spent the past few years doing private security, so whatever longings I still had for that type of work, was satisfied then.”
“Isn’t that frowned upon, going from military to mercenary?” He looked up at me, a strange expression on his face. “Is that not what it’s called?”
“I didn’t do paramilitary work, what some call mercenary work. Just private security for rich people, royals, politicians and their families.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, at least you cared enough to ask.” With a sexy grin he sank two balls, including the cue ball.
“I don’t know any military people, so I’m genuinely curious. No offense meant.”
“None taken, and yeah, some active members don’t like it when their brothers and sisters go private, but it’s a marketable skill that pays more than Uncle Sam, so I understand.”
