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“Hmm, well, when you put it like that, I can’t help but upgrade you from a slight maybe to a highly possible.”
Dropping his gaze to my lips, Ben is about to make his next move. I can feel it in my bones. But then a ringtone sounds. Startled, he reaches to his back pocket and retrieves his phone, glaring at it like it just gave him an STD.
“Shit. I gotta run.”
“Wifey calling?” I joke.
“It’s my sister. She’s …” he sighs loudly, “…in trouble. Gotta go save her from herself.” Jumping off the stool and sliding his phone back in his pocket, he looks at me, pausing as he rubs his chin. “You wanna give me your number, maybe I’ll give you a shout next time I’m in town.”
My stomach sinks. I scramble to come up with something that will guarantee I see him tomorrow. I don’t want to lose this flow. “Sure. Give me your phone and I’ll type it in.”
Pulling his phone back out, he slides his finger across the screen, taps a few times, then passes it my way. For the name, I start typingTove, forgetting I’m undercover. I freeze when I realize my near mistake, backspacing quickly then changing it toNancy. In parentheses I addwhere my mouth wants to bebefore hitting “Done” and passing the phone back to him.
He fights a smirk. “Nancy?”
“That’s me. Don’t ask for my last name or you’ll really laugh.”
“I don’t need your last name,” he says, dropping his eyes once more to my chest.
“Good to know. And I didn’t catch your first name.”
“Ben. See you around, Nancy.Maybe.”
“See you around.” I lift my glass, flick the tip of the straw with my tongue. Ben watches me, hard. “If you’re up and about early tomorrow I’m having breakfast at the Pier Café in Malibu.”
He slaps a ten on the table next to me. “We’ll see. Not sure what I have going on yet.”
Who’s being the tease now?I wonder as he disappears, taking the stairs in front of me that lead to the back of the club. I glance at the ten-dollar-bill, pick it up, and lean over the banister in his direction.
“What’s this?” I ask, grabbing his attention before he’s gone. “A tip for the bartender?”
He shrugs. “A tip. Or use it to buy some poor schmuck a drink. Maybe somebody in a suit who looks like more of a definite than a highly possible.”
“Using my own words against me. That’s hurtful.”
He doesn’t hear me. Or he does but he’s just being Mr. Tough Guy.
I really don’t get men at all, particularly this one. I’ll need to consult with Rigger. Find out if I’ll have to put out to get the info I want.
Fuck.
I take the rest of my drink back inside, dropping the ten in the tip jar on my way. Rigger is still at the bar, nursing a glass of amber beer.
“How’d you make out?” he asks when I sit next to him.
“Can’t tell. He had to leave to get his sister. Either to rescue her from a bad date or get the hell away from me.”
He dips his head in a nod. “There’s always tomorrow. And we’ve got the whole day to track him if you want.”
I glance at the dance floor. It’s thinned out. My body feels like it’s been run over by a Hummer and slapped against a metal wall a few times. Another slow song comes on and Rigger pounds down the rest of his beer, taking me by the hand and leading me out there with the remaining four couples. He pulls me close and I wonder if he used to do this sort of stuff with Holly, and if he’s missing her.
“I didn’t know you liked to slow dance.”
“I don’t.”
“Then why are you doing it?” I angle my face up at him.
He shrugs, looks to the side. “Maybe I want to hold tightly to something I thought I’d lost.”
