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Ivy
IdoubtedEricfelt my spine stiffen. He seemed too caught up in himself to notice. He’d wasted no time going all touchy-feely either. I’d known him for about a minute, and his undressing eyes remained glued to my body. The guy had confidence dripping off his designer shirt. Even more so than Chase. And that was saying something.
Speak of the devil, and unsurprising given that he was married to that bar, Chase was there with Ben.
Maybe subconsciously… or… okay, on purpose, I’d chosen this bar knowing he’d be there.
I returned my attention to my date. Although his face looked tight as if he’d had Botox, Eric looked annoyingly older than his photo. Dark, baggy circles drooped from his eyes. No number of procedures could reverse aging eyes.
At least I had Liam on standby to make that get-away call. Only with my mind-crushing obsession sitting all cocky at the bar, I thought I might drag the date out.
I’d never been one to play games, but this was cold and calculated retaliation. It caught me by surprise, though, that Chase wasn’t splashing those smoldering bedroom eyes over his own date. Instead, his gaze undressed me through the mirror, and I couldn’t think straight.
Eric leaned in. “What are you drinking?”
“A martini, thanks,” I said, with a curt smile.
Didn’t anyone tell him it’s rude to stare?
He lingered for a moment before swaggering off. I had to admit his ass fit in his jeans well, and he was my kind of tall, buff guy.
He was definitely around forty. If I’d been into the daddy thing, he would have floated my boat, but I liked thirty-year-olds with velvet tongues, hot bodies, and teasing smiles.
Chase confused me. Even now as he looked at me through that bar mirror, his eyes gazed into mine with a question. Was that hurt in those puppy-dog eyes?
As long as I’d known Chase, he liked to pretend he was unaffected by us, but sometimes when he thought I couldn’t see him, I would read a tender glow in those expressive brown eyes.
He was also the most generous man I’d ever dated. He was always tossing money at buskers, homeless people, and anyone else who happened to ask. Yes, he was filthy rich and skipped through life without a worry in the world, but still… I’d dated rich men who were seriously tight-assed when it came to money.
But why did he have to be on Tinder?
The last time we were together, Chase was so tender, spooning me and kissing me all over, even after we’d fucked for hours. Most men tended to roll over and fall asleep. Not Chase. He stroked my hair and body until I fell asleep in his arms.
I sighed within. Why wasn’t Chase the shallow asshole he pretended to be? He seemed to hide behind a veneer of player, when deep down inside, he was that guy who drove stray animals to shelters or took them home— as smelly and potentially disease-ridden as they often were.
Eric returned with my drink and moved his chair close to mine while I tried to avoid Chase’s unshifting, questioning attention.
Wasn’t this what I’d planned?
To drive Chase wild with jealousy?
I wasn’t so sure anymore. Why wasn’t he with a hot date? Why was he there alone with his buddies instead?
“So, you’re in the fashion game?” Eric asked.
I nodded as I sipped my drink.
“Tell me about yourself,” he said.
“I majored in English lit at NYU, and I’m working at my mom’s boutique. I’d love to get into the publishing world, but I’m not ready to work for free.”
He grimaced. “That’s the only way to get a foot in the door.”
“I’m not in a hurry. I’m lucky because I can pace myself, due to being employed. I’m also working on a blog,” I said.
“Oh, really?”
I nodded. “It’s more a social page. Manhattan happenings and where to be seen and what to wear. That kind of thing.”
