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She wasn’t much of a drinker and just wanted something she could sip while waiting…for Karen to be joined by a muscular guy with wild red hair! A man not only punctual but cute, too.Good for Karen.
Her friend’s quick wave and nod at her told Sofia that yes, this was her date and she wasn’t creeped out by him yet. Great. Now all she had to do was wait for Karen’s permission to leave, and she’d be off for the night. She waved back a “message received” signal.
Sofia hoped she’d be dismissed soon. Her feet were already killing her in the stilettoes she’d dug out from the back of her closet. She slid her fingernail along the edge of the label on the bottle, blotting out the noise and crowd until she sensed someone standing behind her.
“Hi there.”
The voice was deep enough to resonate over the pulsing bassline. She turned, a polite dismissal on her lips, but froze when she realized who it was.
It washim. The guy she couldn’t stop noticing, giving her a look that suggested that the feeling was mutual.
He was even taller and broader standing in front of her, taking up enough space that all she could see was him. All shewantedto see was him, with his rough-hewn good looks—strong shoulders, long legs, big hands, and a neatly trimmed brown beard that she couldn’t help imagining scratching against her inner thighs.
He reached up a hand to brush at his beard, and her eye followed the movement, then traced along the swirl of black ink trailing his forearm. How far did his tattoo go? Under the rolled-up sleeve of his button-down? She’d tilted her head to see when she caught herself and blushed, forcing her gaze up to his face again. He was smiling at her.
“Hi,” she managed to say.
“I’m Ian, and we’re both on friend-watching duty tonight, I guess.” He half-turned and shedidn’tstare at the way he filled out his shirt andcertainly notat how the fit of his pants showed off his firm ass. She did take a look at his other hand and forearm as he pointed over at the booths and noticed the tattoos on that arm, too. “The guy who just joined your friend ismyfriend, Eric.”
“Oh!” Sofia understood. “I’m Sofia.” She stretched out her hand, and Ian took it to shake. His palm was callused, his grip firm, and his handfitin some indescribable way. She almost shivered when he left go.
“You caught me—I’m my friend’s bodyguard tonight,” Sofia continued, and Ian laughed, the sound deep and sexy.
“Yeah, I get it. I’m babysitting,” he said, and Sofia almost spluttered on the sip of beer she’d taken.
“He looks a little too big to need a nanny,” she commented, grinning. “If you mean wingman, say wingman.”
“Not exactly. He asked me to tag along in case his date was a no-show. Or if she showed up and decided to hightail it when she saw him. The red hair can be make or break.” Ian’s rueful expression suggested that had happened before. “At least with me here, we could have a beer and he’d feel like less of a loser.”
Sofia felt for Eric, whose attempts at dating sounded almost as messy as Karen’s. “Well, looks like things are going okay so far.”
They glanced at their friends and saw them leaning close and laughing.
“Good,” Ian said with a satisfied nod. “Eric deserves it.”
Sofia was charmed by his concern for his friend. “Please, join me.” She indicated the stool next to her and he squeezed his way in.
The bartender appeared, and Ian raked his gaze over the choice of drinks. “I’ll have one of those, too,” he ordered, pointing a thumb at Sofia’s bottle. “May I get you another Bud, Sofia?”
“No, I’m fine, thanks,” she replied.
“Sofia.” He repeated her name as if he liked saying it. She liked him saying it. “What do you do? I mean, obviously, you could be a model but—”
Sofia held up a hand, palm out. “Stop right there. Why do I think your friend told you that cheesy pickup line?”
“Guilty.” Ian held up both hands, wincing along with her. “He’s been riding me about getting out more and being so clueless. But how did you know?”
“You looked uncomfortable saying it. About as uncomfortable asIfeel in this outfit,” Sofia confessed.
Ian gave her a slow once-over, her skin heating as his gaze swept over her. “Well, you look amazing in it.”
The lower, more intent note to his voice as he said it strummed her nerve endings. “To answer your original question, I’m a teacher, trying to remember how to be a human for the night.” Sofia took a gulp of her drink, wondering if it would cool her down.
Ian’s lips tilted in a wry smile. “And I’m a former SEAL, trying to figure out civilian life again.”
Sofia’s eyes opened wide. “Thank you for your service.” She wanted to ask him more about it, but the conversation swerved into the first of the hundred and one other topics that came up, such as the song that was playing, leading them to argue the merits of their favorite bands and singers, each trying to convince the other of the superiority of their choices, and the sports memorabilia hanging on the walls sparking animated discussion of their favorite teams and players. The hint of the south in his accent fascinated her—he was from Atlanta, he said.
“So you grew up with Southern belles?”
