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“What’s that, then?” He points at my almost empty glass.
“Ginger ale.”
“And that’s not a drink?”
“It’s not analcoholicdrink.”
Understanding lights up behind his eyes. “Then you can still haveadrink with me. It doesn’t have to be a hard one.”
It’s an instant relief not to be questioned over it. “Sounds good.”
“My shout. I never expect my date to pay for everything.”
I don’t bother answering him this time, and he looks way too smug as he walks away. Heiswearing clean jeans. Tight ones. They’re practically molded to his strong legs. I rip my eyes away and throw back the last of my drink while I wait for him. It only takes a few minutes before he’s sliding in across from me.
“Okay, since apparently you’re the expert on what’s a date and what isn’t …” He holds up one hand and uses it to shield him pointing with the other. “Those guys. Mates or dates?”
I glance at the two men a table over. They’re joking around about something, and while I can hear them talking, they’re not loud enough for me to make out actual words. The guy closest to us leans over the table and drops his voice to a barely audible murmur, and whatever he says morphs the other guy’s expression from smiling to shocked.
“Umm … date?”
Ford bursts out laughing. “I hope not. They’re brothers.”
“Shit.” I bury my face in my hand. “Best of three?”
“And if you lose?”
“Yeah, we’re not turning this into a bet. I don’t trust you not to lie.”
“Damn, what happened to gullible?”
“I still havesomeself-preservation instincts working for me.”
“Fine, I guess we’ll do this for …” He shudders. “Fun?”
“Works for me.”
Ford’s dark eyes trail over the room and pause on a couple at the bar. “Those two.”
“Date and married.”
“Damn it.” He sizes me up. “How did you know?”
“Because it’s their three-year wedding anniversary. He came in today to buy flowers.”
“Could have been his mistress.”
“I like my chances.”
“Good call. One to go though.” Ford lifts his glass to take a deep sip, and I eye the dark color. Spirits mixed with Coke, maybe?
Before I can ask, he jumps. “Oooh. There. Those two.”
I follow his gaze across the room to a pair of teenage girls. They’re holding hands and giggling, but— “No fair.”
“What?” he asks innocently.
“There’s no way for me to know. Besides, I feel creepy staring at girls that young.”
