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“Willow and Wyatt,” he murmurs with a wink. “Sounds like a perfect match.”
The third guy with shaggy blond hair and hazel eyes snorts. “Subtle, Wyatt. And to be fair, it sounds more like a bad sitcom.”
I snicker, even as Wyatt holds my hand captive. My eyes shoot to his, and he smirks, flirting with me. Finally, he releases his hold.
I shift my gaze to the blond standing next to him. “Nice to meet you …” I trail off with a question mark at the end.
“Benji,” the third guy supplies.
“Nice to meet you, Benji.”
“And this mute against the wall is Zane,” Wyatt quips, pointing a thumb over his shoulder.
My eyes finally drift to the place they’ve longed to land this entire time.Zane. He’s even hotter up close. His hair is thick beneath the beanie and a shade darker than Wyatt’s milk-chocolate brown. His eyes are blue—navy blue—but they almost look black from a few steps away. His gaze is intense as hestudies me, but confidence oozes from his silence. He’s not smiling, but he isn’t frowning either. I’m not sure if he’s playing it cool or just uninterested. But his stoicism piques my interest even more.
What is it about the chase that is always so appealing? Attaining the unattainable.
“He doesn’t have to talk,” Benji supplies, leaning down to line up his next shot. “Look at that pretty face. He could have the personality of a wet mop, and the women would still flock to him.”
“He does have the personality of a wet mop,” Wyatt chimes in.
Benji smirks as Zane rolls his eyes and flips them both off.
“Hey, Zane,” Chelsea purrs.
His dark eyes shift to my friend and hold. I’m unprepared for the sting I feel in the pit of my stomach as his attention lands on her. The competitiveness that stirs there. The irrational green-eyed monster inside of me wants to remind her of the guy she’s dating back home, but I hold it in, knowing it will only make me look obvious and petty. Chelsea’s interest is written all over her pretty face, confirming Benji’s statement that Zane is indeed a magnet for the opposite sex. And I wonder if Chelsea and Zane have hooked up before.
“Chelsea,” Zane rumbles. The deep timbre of his voice tickles my ears. “Are your folks here?”
She nods, gracing him with her most radiant smile. I take a long swallow of my drink, emptying most of the glass in one or two gulps.
The waitress—Jessica—arrives. She looks from Chelsea to Zane to me, a small frown appearing on her full lips. “I’ve got your food ready.”
“Bring it over here,” Wyatt suggests while motioning to a table off to the side. “Join us.” He shifts his attention from Chelsea to me, lifting his eyebrows in question.
“Okay!” Chelsea readily agrees.
I don’t miss Jessica’s frown as it deepens or how her light-blue eyes linger on Zane.
I place my drink down on the table and start to walk across the room to gather the rest of our things. Jessica follows me. I snag our purses and my sweater while the attractive waitress grabs the plates of food.
“Thanks,” I tell her sincerely.
She smiles at me, but it doesn’t quite meet her eyes.
When we’re all set up at our new table, Jessica leaves. But not before pausing to whisper something in Zane’s ear. He watches her without responding as she drags her hand across his chest. And I feel myself paying more attention to the two of them than I should.
He’s a stranger,I remind myself. Just another guy.Besides, he seems full of himself. And she’s probably his girlfriend.
My mind suddenly shifts to home and all the problems and frustrations that are waiting for me there, reminding me that I don’t need any additional complications. Not even if they come wrapped in a pretty package like Zane. I focus on the food in front of me and the game of pool occurring between the three guys we just met.
Jessica doesn’t return to our table, but another server does. I order a beer this time. The food is amazing, and the guys are entertaining, though Zane is proving to be a man of few words.
“I didn’t realize how hungry I was,” I admit, biting into my second slider.
“Traveling will do that to you,” Chelsea says.
Wyatt loses to Benji, and Zane steps up, finally relinquishing his spot against the wall to play the next game. Benji racks the balls into a triangle shape on one end of the green-felt-lined table. Wyatt drags another stool up beside me and sets his mug of beer on our table.
