I slumped in my seat and stared into my empty glass, where two ice cubes remained.
“Rough day?” a deep voice rumbled behind me. Now, I’m not one to exaggerate, but I could have sworn in that moment my ovaries stood up and cheered as my body tingled with awareness only a voice like that could stir. Immediately I regretted my reaction. After all, my relationship with men was just as bad as my cloak of invisibility. If a man did notice me, it was usually to point out something that was wrong with me, making me wonder if it was even worth being noticed in the first place. My personal favorite was when a man approached me only to ask me to move to the left so he could hit on the girl behind me. On rare occasions when I lucked out and was the object of their attention, they were gay and loved my shoes, which usually meant at least I’d have a decent conversation.
I sighed and glanced down at my heels. I really did have great taste in shoes.
With that voice, my money was on the latter.
“Vince Camuto,” I said in a bored tone. “Last season, though I’m well aware they look like this season, thus the pairing with the pencil skirt. And no, the skirt isn’t Chanel, it’s Burberry.”
And . . . silence.
See? This is what I mean. He was probably talking to someone else, or thought I was someone else and was so embarrassed he hightailed it out of there. Chill, dude, I’m not going to throw myself at you and insist you have my babies. Even if your voice sounds like smooth caramel on crack.
A warm hand grabbed my shoulder, scaring the crap out of me. With a yell, I jerked my hand, causing the ice to topple out of my drink and down my white shirt.
I was too busy trying to get the ice out of my bra to look up.
“Wow, that’s new. Can’t say I’ve ever caused a woman to dump ice on her own shirt before.” The voice just got sexier by the minute, didn’t it?
“Aha!” I pulled out the almost completely melted cubes and dropped them to the floor, then looked up. I blinked to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. And then I turned around like a complete loser.
Nobody sat behind me.
Damn, I guess I’m back to the gay thing.
“Sorry.” I turned back around and forced a smile. “Long day.”
The man had crazy hypnotic eyes. They were an aqua blue that I could have sworn full-on shimmered after I stared at them too long. Note to self: don’t look directly in his eyes for fear that clothes will spontaneously pull themselves off my body. I cleared my throat and narrowed my gaze.
His wavy auburn hair fell perfectly parted to the side, revealing a shaved section on the left right above his ear. It was trendy, sexy.
Full, bow-shaped lips curved into a smile. “That’s all right.” He pulled out a bar stool next to me and sat.
What was I supposed to do with my hands? Panicking, I grabbed my empty glass and clenched it so tight I wouldn’t have been at all surprised if it shattered in my hands.
The bartender finally made his way over. Bastard.
“What can I get you?” He placed a napkin in front of the hot and mysterious stranger.
“What she’s having?” He pointed a long, gorgeous finger in my direction.
A confused frown marred the bartender’s face. “Er, you just get here?”
I fought back a growl. “No. Been sitting here for a half hour now.”
“You sure?” Did he really have to press the issue?
I gritted my teeth. “Pretty sure.”
“Hmm, maybe Keith helped you then.”
It hadn’t been Keith.
“Rum and Coke,” I grumbled, wanting him to go away so I could stare at the pretty man candy next to me.
“Diet?” the bartender asked.
“What?” I felt my face flush. “No, regular Coke.”
He paused, giving me a once-over, and then shrugged and made my drink. In that moment, I had a very vivid daydream that involved a malfunctioning nutcracker.
“Double,” said Handsome on my left. “Make both of ours doubles. Hell, maybe give her a triple.”
“Ha.” I tapped the counter with my fingertips. “Getting drunk on a school night is frowned upon.”
The mesmerizing aqua eyes darn near bugged out of his head.
“Relax.” I smirked. “I have a fake ID.”
He clearly didn’t understand I was joking. With a curse, he stood to leave.
I burst out laughing. “I’m kidding. I’m thirty, I promise. I’ll even show you my ridiculously obnoxious photo on my driver’s license.” I nodded. “There was a storm that day.”
He flashed a smile and sat again. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”
“I call chicken,” I announced, then jerked my ID from my black Coach clutch and thrust it in his face.
“Damn.” He shuddered. Yup, I’d just made a hot stranger shudder in disgust. That’s how awesome I was at picking up men. Then again, he was gay, so the poor guy was probably horrified at the sweatshirt I was wearing in the picture.
“Yeah, well.” I put the ID back just as our drinks arrived.
Handsome Stranger paid for them, then took a large sip.
“So.” I twisted the two straws in the drink with my fingers. “Where’s the lucky guy?”