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“Bad night?” she asks.
Thumping the counter, I take another pull of my drink. “You could say that.”
Before she gets a chance to respond, a man slides up behind her and reaches a muscled arm across the bar. A full beer bottle slides down the counter, past me and Brandi, and into his open palm.
“Thanks, Jordan.” He nods before turning a smile to Brandi. It falters a touch when his stormy eyes land on little ol’ me.
The straw I had between my lips falls limply.
“Who’s your friend?” he asks her, setting his phone down on the counter while fishing for some cash in his back pocket.
The question is innocent enough, but it’s laced with the barest hint of awareness. As if he’s just now noticing the length of my light pink dress—or lack thereof.
The expanse of tan skin peeking through the open neck of his buttoned shirt draws my tipsy gaze, and I pretend the forearms flexing beneath those lazily rolled sleeves aren’t even a tiny bit appetizing.
He’s on the taller side, with broad shoulders and short raven hair. His face has been touched by time, sprinkled with fine lines around his eyes that no normal person would notice unless they were staring as intensely as I am.
Eyes with a hue like the ocean during a summer storm follow the tip of my tongue as it traces my lips. There’s a mix of brown peeking through the green and blue, like sand swirling in the waves.
Not so discreetly, I press a finger to the plastic bottom of my drink and shove it behind me. “I’m Katie—no, Katelynn.” I close my eyes, breathing through my nose. “Kate Harris.”
He flicks a glance at the drink I’m now hiding behind my arm.
Do women his age drink frilly, neon-lit beverages?
A better question: why do I care?
I lay my cheek against a closed fist and watch as something akin to humor relaxes his stare.
“Nice to meet you all,” he rumbles, earning a snort from Brandi.
Well, well. Mr. Intensity has a sense of humor after all.
“On a good day, we all get along. Other days… it’s a bit of a madhouse.” I tap my temple, but thanks to the drinks I’ve had, the effort to keep my movements graceful becomes herculean.
“Damon Carlisle.” He wraps the name inside a laugh that butters my insides.
A lock of dark hair breaks free of its hold above his forehead, matching the color of his stubbled five o’clock shadow. Aside from those piercing eyes, there’s a subtle softness to his features that most men don’t have. Not exactly feminine, but not overtly masculine. More just a truly beautiful man.
Brandi peeks around Damon. “Kate here was just about to divulge some juicy deets about her boyfriend troubles.”
My eyes bulge. “How did you…?”
She shrugs as if I’m that easy to read. “A pretty young thing like you doesn’t sit alone at a bar on vacation unless she’s having boy trouble.”
Damon watches curiously as I tuck a few strands of hair behind my heated ear.
“Well, it’sex-boyfriend.”As far as I’m concerned.“And believe me, no one has time for those deets.”
What the future holds where me and Thad are concerned can wait until my current crisis is solved—starting with combing through what little I’ve managed to save over the last three months in my Futuro account, and ending with not tucking tail and running home to Mommy.
“Leave her be, Bran.” Nodding to my beverage before taking a swig of his beer, he adds, “Besides, I think she may have found the cure.”
“The cure for what ails you is not at the bottom of a daquiri, sweet cheeks,” Brandi says. “It’s underneath one of these fine specimens.”
I follow the sweep of her arm across the room.
“You mean like the frat bros over there?” I point to the same group of men I saw earlier, only I failed to notice the matching floral print shirts the first time. “I think I’ll pass.”
