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Grace blinks at me. “You want to be my wingman?”
“Sure, why not? The clock is ticking. And it’ll get these assholes off my case.”
On cue, Ridge and Drake amble away to make themselves scarce. Plans of retribution are already brewing in my brain. But revenge will have to wait.
A breeze from the entrance resembles a monumental quake. Four guys saunter inside like their shit doesn’t stink. The douche quad has no clue what’s about to hit them.
“Well, well, well. Look at that.” I jut my chin in their direction. “Fan the flames, Gracie. Eligible candidates are already catching a whiff of your smoldering loins.”
It’s been an hour since I pranced into Roosters under false pretenses. What I originally believed was a night I’d potentially get swept off my feet turned out to be a ploy. I can’t find it in me to be the least bit upset with Joy, though.
Pussy in Paradise might be a farce, but Garrett’s undivided attention is very real. His fierce stare makes me feel like I’m the only woman in this bar. Hell, maybe even in this entire town. That heady sensation launches into swoon territory when he slides a carefully crafted concoction across the wooden counter toward me.
“Oooooh, how pretty.” I squirm on my stool, eager for a taste.
He parks a bent elbow on the bar. “Better be, considering its inspiration.”
My cheeks warm from the implied compliment. A casual remark from him renders me speechless. I focus on his most recent creation in an attempt to gather my composure. Just like the cocktail he made for me at the festival, the drink is layered in multiple colors. An assortment of fruit accompanies sugar on the rim.
“Thank you,” I murmur after a pause. “Does it have a name?”
“Let’s call this one…” He inspects his handy work with narrowed eyes. “Wife Material.”
There’s a forceful lurch in my chest, as if my heart is desperate to break free. “Now you’re just teasing me.”
“Why would I do that?” His smirk exposes those devilish dimples that make me want to do wicked things.
I toy with my straw to stop myself from fondling the charming divots. “You think I’m silly for wanting commitment.”
“Nah, sweetheart. I’d never toss shade onto your dreams. Aspire away. You do you, and I’ll do me. We can meet in the middle to discuss our trials and tribulations.”
“You want to hear about my dates?”
“Isn’t that part of our friendly agreement?” His voice holds a raspy edge that curls my toes.
“I guess.” My nose wrinkles to reveal layers of uncertainty. “In all honesty, this is uncharted territory for me.”
“You and me both,” he mutters.
“Really? I assumed you were an expert at dumping girls in the friend zone.”
Garrett thrusts his head back, loud laughter booming from his depths. I’m struck by the sight of his bulky form shaking with the action. His stubbled throat moves to amplify the joy for everyone to soak in. My eyes feast on the view while drool threatens to spill free.
Amusement glitters in his gaze when he refocuses on me. “You’re a fucking riot, Gracie.”
“Thanks?”
“Trust me, women aren’t usually interested in my friendship.” Passion sizzles in his unwavering stare.
The temperature spikes and I almost fan my face. “Oh?”
“Would you like a private demonstration?” The intimacy in his tone is almost my undoing. But his suggestion reminds me of our uncommon ground. If only we shared a mutual appreciation for love and romance.
“Pass, playboy. I kinda like where things are going.”
“Me too.” He grants me a lopsided grin that’s too endearing.
The dryness in my mouth becomes unbearable. Tangy sweetness bursts on my tongue when I finally take a sip of my beverage. Each flavor profile hits my palate separately, then blends together in a yummy wave. An exaggerated moan offers compliments to the cocky bartender.
