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Aiden leaned back and crossed his arms. “Oh? And why is that?”
Because you’re more her type? Too bad, buddy. She’s here with me tonight.
Francisco finally seemed to clue in that he was pissing Aiden off and threw up his hands in front of him in an “I’m harmless” gesture.
“Just not a match I would have envisioned. You seem to be polar opposites.”
“Well, you know what they say, opposites attract.”
“Hey, I think it’s great.”
Okay, he was obviously missing something if Francisco thought it was great Aiden and Dakota were dating. So, they probably weren’t lovers, which calmed some of his ire, but not all of it.
He didn’t know why he was pissed that people kept pointing out how opposite they were when that’d been an argument he’d been making with himself. But he didn’t like other people noticing or commenting on it.
Dakota seemed to be watching the exchange with interest but hadn’t said anything.
Francisco hugged her around the shoulders and said, “I’ll call you—I promise.”
“Hey, it’s only you who’s suffering if you don’t.”
Ah, so Francisco was probably a client of hers.
He waved at Aiden. “I’ll see you around the hospital.”
“Have a good night.”
Dakota sat back in the booth just as a waitress delivered their drinks.
“Oh, thanks. I was just on my way to grab them.”
“No problem. I’m Joyce, I’ll be the one taking care of you from now on. Just let me know if you need anything else.”
“Will do.” He turned to Dakota and raised his glass. “Cheers,” then waited until they’d both taken a drink then tried to sound nonchalant when he asked, “So, how long have you known Francsico? What did you call him? Pancho?”
She took another drink before answering. “Five years, maybe? And yes, his nickname is Pancho.”
“I didn’t know that. Is he a client?”
“Oh, no. We’re friends with benefits.”
Aiden had started to take another sip of his whiskey and choked, putting his glass back on the table while he coughed.
After gulping down some water, he asked, “Really? I, uh, didn’t realize.”
So, his first instinct was right. Now he wanted to go punch the dude in the face.
“No, not really, asshole! But it doesn’t feel good, does it?”
Her feelings were hurt, and he hated he’d been the cause of that.
“I know! I’m sorry! What do you want me to do?”
“I don’t know… not be such a man whore?”
As much as he’d like to argue that he wasn’t a man whore, that assessment wasn’t exactly wrong.
“You’re right. After my divorce, I may have gone a little overboard with the hookups.”
