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He smirks down at me, but it’s nothing like the mocking curve Ryan’s lips would often take. There’s no implication in it, no mocking shine. Duke seems to be enjoying this conversation, even seeming a littleflirty. I’m shocked at how easy it is to speak to him. I thought I’d be mumbling every other word. There’s something about him. Heck, it just relaxes me.
“I can buy you a drink, and that’s a serious offer.” He leans closer, but it’s like he’s purposefully keeping some distance between us. Maybe it’s because I flinched at the booze smell, an instinct I regret. I don’t want him to think I’m uninterested. “I haven’t made an offer like that in years.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s a line, right? Thathasto be a line.”
He grins and laughs. “Hand on my heart.” He places his hand on his chest. His top two shirt buttons are undone, showingjusta glimpse of his hard chest. “I don’t do this often. I only come to this bar because it shows the fights, and I know the owners. I’m not here to pick up… At least, I wasn’t.”
When Ryan showed me the photo, and I saw Duke’s shirtless, strong, taut body glistening, I never imagined he’d look at me like this. It’s with complete captivation. It’s like I said before, about working on my assignment. Nothing else exists. Nothing else matters.
“I don’t think you could pick me up,” I say, trying to make it a joke. I’m not sure how to deal withrealflirting. Ryan and I never really flirted. It was always stilted and awkward.
Duke nods, his intense eyes serious. “Oh, I could, Molly. It wouldn’t be a challenge. We can try if you want.”
I look around the bar. It’s still not super busy, but a group of college guys have just entered. I quickly scan them for Ryan. Duke wouldn’t be saying any of this if he knew I’d just dumped his son, would he? I need to slow down. “Maybe I will take you up on that drink,” I say. “But no wrestling, okay?”
“Raincheck,” he says, his voice husky. “What’s your poison?”
“A diet coke is fine, thank you.”
“Sounds good to me. I’m glad you’re not drinking.”
“Why?”
“It means you were sober when you approached this sad old man at the bar.”
He speaks in a self-deprecating tone, but it still annoys me that he keeps referencing his age. It’s like he thinks I’m so immature I must be reminded every few seconds. “You’re not anold man.”
“Relax,” he says. “I was only kidding.”
“Please don’t tell me to relax.”
Ireallyneed to relax, but Ryan would often do that. He’d jab at me, niggle, and then, when I finally responded, he’d tell me to relax and react as if I was acting like a madwoman when I never thought I was.
“Fair enough, Molly,” Duke says, narrowing his eyes as if trying to read me. I can’t lie. I love how intimately he’s staring. Like he truly, truly cares. “I won’t say it again… unless youreallyneed to relax. Deal?”
“No, I’m sorry,” I reply. “I guess that word pisses me off way too easily.”
“That’s just…” He trails off, reaching into his pocket. “Sorry, this is my son. Do you mind?”
I swallow. This is so messed up.
Somehow, I manage to shake my head, but I can’t bring myself to talk andtellhim I don’t mind. I keep picturing Ryan’s face if he ever saw me with his dad, the anger, the viciousness. Once, when Ryan was drunk, I thought he was going to hit me. It was so terrifying. I should’ve left him right then. Luckily, he didn’t hit me, but he wanted to.
“Hello to you too,” Duke says, his tone suddenly way more serious. “No, Ryan, slow down, bud. What do you need agrandfor? No. No. Hey, stop for a second. The answer’s no. I’m not giving you a thousand dollars for some bullshit trip to Vegas because that’s not how life works. You’ve missed your last three shifts at the gym. You don’t get rewarded for that. I—”
Duke groans and places his phone on the counter. He massages his forehead. “Sorry about that.”
“Uh…” I hesitate. “It’s fine.” I really need to tell him the truth as soon as I can. This is already spinning out of control way too fast. The idea of doing this—talking, flirting, bonding—for revenge already seems gross. “Is everything okay?”
“It’s…” Duke sighs, “my son. I split with his mom when he was five. She did her best to keep me out of his life. I know what you’re thinking.”
I highly doubt that, I almost say, but I keep it to myself.
“I wish I’d been there for him,” Duke says. It’s like he’s talking to himself more than me. “I could’ve taught him some hard truths about the world, but my ex and his stepdad babied him. Then, when he turned nineteen, they decided to screw off to Spain and leave him here. Leave him for me toraisewhen he was already raised. They’d already done their damage.”
He pushes his whiskey glass away and sits up.
“I’m going to go and make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble tonight,” Duke says. “Listen, Molly, I mean this. It’s not a line. I don’t do this often, but I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t ask. I’m taking you on a date.”
