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The suit quirks a smile at me, then laughs. “God. I have not had a margarita since freshman year. I’d like one of those.”
Mike nods. “Coming right up.”
“Thanks for the suggestion.”
I smile, then go back to doom scrolling on my phone. Anything to avoid conversation. Or ogling the suit. I cannot deny he’s cute as hell, but I am not looking for so much as a pleasant smile from a man right now, so I pay him no mind.
I don’t even notice his piercing blue eyes. Or those broad shoulders. His strong nose or that granite jaw cannot bother me. The suit might be classically handsome in every conceivable way, but that is none of my concern.
My dead business is my concern.
I’m glad there’s no smoking in bars anymore. It’s been that way since I was a kid, but tonight, I am especially grateful for that law. I still flinch when I see fire. After watching my restaurant go up in flames, I cannot deal with anything heat-related.
Except maybe that suit.
I roll my eyes at myself for such a pointless thought. Not like someone like him even notices someone like me.
Abruptly, the suit says, “I don’t mean to bother you—
“But you’re about to, aren’t you?”
“Never mind.” He turns to the TV over the bar.
I huff at myself. “Sorry. That was rude. It’s not an excuse, but I’ve had a long string of bad luck recently, and I am not in a position to be good company. You look like a decent guy, so I didn’t want you to waste your time. The blonde in the corner hasn’t been able to keep her eyes off you since you walked in, if you’re looking for a conversation.”
He gives me the oddest smile and something about it makes my stomach flutter. “Are you…did you really just try to wing man for me?”
I laugh. “Wing woman, thank you very much.”
He laughs, too. “Well, wing woman, thanks, but no thanks. I’ve had my fill of blondes for a lifetime.”
Glancing around the bar, I ask, “What about redheads?” Then I dip my head subtly to a woman near the door.
“I don’t need you to fix me up.” He’s still smiling, so I didn’t annoy him with my effort. I can’t figure out why he’s talking to me. “I don’t want to bug you, but I find your brand of bracing honesty refreshing and would like to keep bugging you, if you don’t mind.”
“Bracing honesty?”
“I have never had a woman shut me down quite like you. And no one has ever tried to wing woman for me.”
I shrug. A conversation is probably better for my mental health than doom scrolling through another apology text from my business partner, Paxton. The texts keep getting longer with every excuse why he hadn’t renewed our insurance, and how sorry he is that I am utterly screwed.
Wouldn’t mind getting actually screwed.
So, I turn to the suit. “I’m Lily.”
“Cormac Ma—
“Just Cormac for now. No last names. Okay?”
He nods. “You got it. So, Lily, what are you in for?”
“Nope. Let’s not dive into our sob stories. Let’s just pretend to be two people with no problems in the world, enjoying some shockingly delicious margaritas.”
“Right?” he says with a laugh. “I’d forgotten how good these things are.”
“Know what else is good?”
“What’s that?”
