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“We both know I’m going to be able to read these guys a lot better than you or your friend over there.” He paused, his gaze searching hers. “If you really want to do this, let me help screen them.”
“I’m not sure that’s even in the description of a wingman.”
She didn’t want his help. Not that way. It was just beyond frustrating that the man she was super attracted to and would love to go to bed with was completely off-limits.
It’s a good thing, Kristen. Remember that wholegetting attached bit?
A guy like Blake made it almost inevitable. When he’d just been a hot body with a sexy face, he’d seemed perfect. But he was actually a pretty decent guy with a good sense of humor. Which just ruined it all damn it. Plus the whole friend of her brother thing.
“I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I feel like I’m crazy to even consider it. But…” She trailed off as she spotted her brother striding across the bar toward them. “What in the—”
“Kristen.”
Seriously? Now James was here?
Blake spun around on the stool. “James? What’s up?”
“Barbecue is over.” James glanced at Kristen and shook his head. “What are you up to, kid?”
“I’m having drinks in a bar. Like grown-ups do.” She flashed him a hard smile. “And I’m not really a fan of the way you sent your friend in here to keep tabs on us, either.”
“Speaking of…” James swept a gaze around the bar. “Where is she?”
“Who?”
“Tori. The one getting you into all kinds of trouble.”
“Oh my gosh, it’s not like they’re handing out heroin needles and tequila-flavored condoms at the door, James. And let me remind you, I’m of legal age to be in a bar.”
Ignoring her sarcastic comment, he muttered, “There she is.”
“James.”
He’d already turned on his heel to make his way to Tori.
“I don’t understand what’s going on here.” This was starting to feel a little surreal. She shot Blake a look. “You swear you didn’t say anything about my plan?”
Blake lifted his hands defensively and shrugged. “I swear I didn’t say a word.”
Kristen harrumphed as she slid off the bar stool and went to follow after her brother. Her ankle rolled in the high heel, and she gasped as pain seared.
Blake was beside her in an instant, catching her elbow before she went down. “You okay?”
She winced and straightened, gingerly taking a step. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You look like Bambi trying to walk in those heels,” he grumbled under his breath, releasing her elbow but staying close. “Maybe stick to flats next time.”
“Flats don’t make me three inches taller.”
“Are the heels comfortable?”
“God, no.”
“Then don’t wear them.”
“Women wear fuck-me heels when they want to feel sexy.” She shot him a condescending look. “You ever heard of fuck-me flats?”
He blinked and scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, well—”
