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“Drink’s on me, Roscoe.” A familiar voice booms.
Turning, I can’t control my gasp as I stare up at Tom, Vanna’s boyfriend Jake’s friend. His red hair is a wild halo around his sweaty face, but his grin is just as wide and friendly as it was that night I met him. That was another seedy bar as well, Vanna and I went there to slum it and ended up playing pool and darts with Jake and Tom.
“Do you live in bars?” I ask, giving the bartender a quick smile and nod when he places a huge glass of foamy beer in front of me.
Tom’s gusty laugh blasts beer fumes in my face and I’m guessing he’s been here for quite some time.
“Nope. Just nothing better to do.” He eyes me up and makes a show of looking around. “Where’s your partner in crime, cause I know she’s not with Jake cause he’s working?”
“Why aren’t you working?” I counter.
“Didn’t want the extra shift,” he says, shrugging his massive shoulders. “Got nobody to spend the extra money on, anyway.”
If that’s a jab at the way I turned him down flat last time I saw him, oh well, he’ll get no pity from me. “Maybe just save the money for a rainy day, then.” I take a sip of my beer and barelycontrol the urge to spit it right back in the glass. Vile doesn’t even begin to describe this.
I place the beer back on the bar. “Or spend the money on yourself. I mean, why not, right?”
“Ain’t no fun in that,” Tom pouts.
Since Tom doesn’t seem the mani or pedi type of person, I don’t bother suggesting that. “What happens if you never find someone, Tom?” I ask, leaning an arm against the bar. “Or what if you find that person, but then fuck everything up?”
His heavy brow crinkles and he picks up his beer and contemplates the bright yellow liquid. “If I found the right woman, I wouldn’t fuck it up.”
With a snort, I toss up my hands. “It’s not that simple!”
Gulping down half the glass, he gives me a silly grin. “Why not? Some things really are that simple.”
I’m about to argue with him when I realize one, there’s no sense arguing with a drunk person because they’ll never understand why they’re wrong, and two, maybe Tom isn’t wrong.
“Could things really be that simple?” I mutter more to myself than Tom, but he answers anyway.
“Don’t see why not.”
I toss him a side-eye. “So if I apologized and let Lee in, do you think he would give our relationship a chance?”
“Fuck, you’d have me at hello, Blaire.” Chugging down the rest of his beer, wipes the foam off his thick lips with the back of his hand, and burps. “Who’s Lee?” he asks, blinking his bleary eyes around the bar.
“My boss,” I say, grabbing hold of his arm. “Tom, let me give you a ride home.”
He tries to shake me off. “Nah, you don’t need to. My truck’s outside.”
“Nope, my friend, I insist. It’s the least I could do after all the help you’ve given me.”
Tom brights up. “I helped? Can I have a kiss?” He puckers his lips and swoops his shaggy head down.
I duck his attempts to lock lips and manage to get him out of the bar and stuffed into my car. Porsches aren’t made for big men the size of bears.
Thankfully, he gives me his address before he falls asleep. I’m much happier to clean up his drool off my seat than his vomit, so take this as a win.
Amazingly, he sobers up some by the time we reach his house. His very large house that looks straight out of a Better Homes and Gardens magazine, complete with impressive flowerbeds. Guess Tom is full of surprises.
Unless he lives with his mom.
Tom’s thanking me for the ride when I cut him off and ask, “You live with your mom?”
His eyes squint in confusion and he shakes his head. “Uh, no. Not since I was nineteen. Why?”
“No reason,” I say airily. “Have a great night, Tom.”
