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“Can I ask you a personal question?” I lean closer to him. My second margarita on the rocks has done wonders to relax me.
“That could be dangerous.” His smile. A man shouldn’t be allowed to have those white teeth and such a perfect grin. He winks and puts his finger in the air. “One question.”
“What made you go into real estate?”
His entire body seems to lose some of the tension. “I wanted to be in charge of my own destiny. Real estate is a good biz for that. I work hard and I get paid for the work I do. The harder I work, the more money I make. I love the art of the deal and every client, every property, is different. It keeps it interesting.”
“So it’s not about the clients?”
“That’s two questions.” He raises his perfectly shaped eyebrows.
I bet he manscapes.
“Consider it an amendment to the original question.”
He grins. “No, it’s not about the clients. I mean, I like to make them happy when I get the price they want or find them the perfect space to move into, but as far as lasting relationships, I have to admit, that’s not what makes me tick. I do what I need to in order to get the job done. But I’d never screw anyone over.” He takes a long pull of his beer.
“Have you ever slept with a client?” I laugh to play off my question, but the woman in the hallway comes to mind.
His eyes meet mine. “No.” Then he drinks his beer.
I sip my margarita, thinking I may have crossed the line. “Did I offend you?”
“Listen, I get what my billboards represent, but it’s just to stand out and be different. To entice potential clients to call me rather than the other way around.”
“Use what you can, huh?”
He’s smiling and seems not at all upset, so maybe I didn’t ruin our conversation by asking. “What about you?”
My body clams up and I down the rest of my margarita, pushing my bad memories to the back of my mind. “No.”
He tilts his head, studying me as though he heard something in my answer. “Did I touch a nerve?”
“I’m going to get another drink.”
“Bella?” He grasps my elbow, stopping me from sliding off the stool.
I plaster on my usual smile and turn around to face him. “Of course you didn’t. We said we were going to have fun and blow off steam. I need another drink to do that.”
His gaze doesn’t leave mine, and for a moment, my nose tickles and I think he’ll call my bluff. But he gets off his stool. “I get the drinks when you’re with me. Sit down.”
I watch longingly as he ventures to the bar. A woman approaches him, but he doesn’t bite, which shouldn’t relieve me as much as it does. Looking at all the sweaty bodies on the dance floor, I remember when I couldn’t stand to be at a place like this because anxiety and fear crippled me.
“Here you go.” He slides my drink over to me and gets back onto the stool across from me. “There’s Dom.”
He’s easy to find, dancing with some brunette. The two of them are more making out than dancing.
“She’s cute,” I say.
“How can you tell? He’s attached to her.” He laughs. “There’s something about her that seems familiar though.”
“You can only see her back,” I say.
He shrugs. “I never forget a face. Or an ass.” He winks and I shake my head and sip my drink.
Dom and his mystery woman disappear shortly after and “One Dance” by Drake comes on and my body responds, bobbing to the beat. My eyes close as I mouth the words. I love this song.
“You like this song?” Carm asks.
