Page 100 of Smokey's Distraction
She returned his stare. “What? You’re blaming me? Whatisyour deal?”
Whitney looked between them. “Did I miss something? What’s going on with you two?”
“He seems to have a problem with me, and I have no idea why.”
“Is that true?” Whitney asked, turning to Jared.
A scowl replaced the frown on his face. “We have customers waiting. Move it.” He slammed his fist on the bar then stormed away.
Whitney looked shocked. “I can’t believe he just talked to me that way. I’ve never seen him this mad before. Hell, I don’t even know what he’s so pissed about.”
“He’s a jerk?” Ashley offered in response. “For some unknown reason, I seem to grate his ass.”
“Now that I think of it, he had an attitude for no apparent reason with another woman who came into the bar last week. And a couple of weeks ago, he had a problem with a group of frat guys who were just having a good time. I forgot about that until just now.” Pausing, as if thinking on it, she shrugged. “Maybe he’s having a bad day. I can be a real bitch when I’m on my period or Bruiser pisses me off.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I’ve had my raving lunatic moments, for sure. But, with me, he’salwaysin a bad mood.”
“Whitney!”
She giggled. “I better help him out. We’ll talk later.”
Watching her scurry away, she slid off the stool and found a table near the stage. The place looked much bigger when there weren’t so many people inside. Taking out her phone, she scrolled through the newsfeed.
“Do you want a drink?” Smokey asked.
Looking up at him, she smiled. “A glass of pinot grigio would be great.”
“Be right back.”
Her eyes followed him as he swaggered to the bar, admiring his round, tight ass, and the way the muscles in his arms rippled and flexed.Don’t get hooked on him.Whitney’s words confirmed what Ashley already knew: the man was a player—pure and simple. Sighing, she looked down at her phone again and tapped on an article about investing.
Focused on what she was reading, theclinkof the glass on the table startled her. Smokey pulled out a chair and plopped down into it.
“Whatcha reading?”
“Just something about investing. Thanks for the drink.” She picked up the glass and took a sip. “Did you finish up your meeting with Eric?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s good.” She took another drink, then leaned back in her chair. “I wouldn’t want to piss your friends off. They come off as a rough bunch.”
“They are.”
“Who was the older guy with blond hair?”
“Banger—the club’s president.”
“Wow. Is he married?”
“Yeah.”
“Kids?”
“Yep.”
“Let me guess—you’re not going to elaborate on anything?”
Bringing the beer bottle to his lips, he said, “You got it,” and took a long pull.
