Bowen
Nine months before the plane crash…
“Thanks, but I’m good,” she said from the end of the bar, shooting down her fifth man for the evening.
Not that I had been keeping count. Or watching her—intently—in the mirror behind the bar for the last hour. Thank fuck for the TV screen mounted on the wall or I would have looked like the creep I so clearly was.
“You sure?” Baldy Can’t Take a Hint asked.
Lifting the full appletini she’d been nursing since she sat down, she smiled, and to her credit, it at least appeared genuine. “I’m all set, but I appreciate the offer.”
I cringed, embarrassed for the poor schlub as he started to sit down on the stool beside her. He could have stood there all night and she wouldn’t have asked him to leave. But this, I’d learned, she would shut down quick.
Extending her hand over the stool, she stopped him. “Actually, I’m expecting someone.”
“Oh,” he said, sounding surprised.
Come on, dude.
She was fucking stunning. Sexy, long blond hair. Blue eyes that could bring a man to his knees. Long black dress with thin straps that exposed enough cleavage to be mouth-watering but still keep my mind racing for what else was hiding beneath.
Of course she was expecting someone. Women like that didn’t just sit at a bar alone, waiting for the first chump to ask to buy her a drink.
My whole body jerked when her gaze suddenly flicked up, colliding with mine in the mirror. As much as self-preservation told me not to, I held it for a beat, unable to look away. She was smiling, but that wasn’t new just because her eyes were aimed at me. Still, it felt like I’d been slapped by a heat wave.
She turned her attention back to the guy. “Yeah. Sorry.”
“No biggy.” He shrugged, his ego visibly deflated. “Have a good night.”
“You too,” she chirped.
Defeated, he walked away like the parade of men before him.
And just like with all the others, my lips twitched with a grin.
I should have left over an hour ago. Technically, I’d asked for my check before the blond goddess had walked in. One glance and I wasn’t going anywhere. Until I figured out who she was waiting for—a friend or the luckiest bastard in existence—my ass was glued to that stool.
Staring blankly at the sports highlight reel on TV, I turned my glass of whiskey in my fingers.
“All right,” she said from an alarmingly close proximity.
I swung my head to the side and found her sitting next to me. Like, right fucking next to me, her soft floral scent filling my senses.
“You’re gonna play the strong, silent type. Don’t worry. I like it.” She smiled. Bright. White. Life-altering.
Fuck me, she was even more beautiful up close.
“Are you waiting on someone?” she asked. “Friend? Wife? Girlfriend?” She paused and slanted her head. “Boyfriend?”
My gaze dipped to her lips. “None of the above. But I thought you were expecting someone.”
“Well, I was. Then I realized he would rather eye-fuck me in the mirror than come over and start a conversation.”
Busted. And I couldn’t even be mad about it.
“You’re not nearly as sneaky as you think you are.” She lifted her martini glass for a sip, and when she put it down, it was almost empty. She must have thrown it back before walking over. Probably a little liquid courage. And fucking hell, wasn’t that a confidence booster.
“You’re sitting here, so I guess it worked.” I winked.
She clinked the rim of her glass with mine. “Touché. Maybe you’re a genius after all.”
Probably not a genius, but I was smart enough to know she needed another drink. My small talk was not sharp enough to keep her entertained for long. I lifted my chin at the bartender, and he immediately came walking over.
“Can I get an appletini?” I asked.
He nodded and wandered away. Just another day at work for him.
“So, do you come here often?” I asked her. No, seriously. That was what I said. See the aforementioned part about my small talk.
“Nope,” she replied, popping the P. “I was showing a condo down by that new plant shop. I happened to see you through the window on the way to my car. Figured a drink couldn’t hurt.”
My brows shot up. “Oh, so you were actually the creeper in this scenario?”
“Guilty.” She lifted one shoulder. “Honestly, I had no choice though. A gorgeous man in a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up? I’m surprised I didn’t have to wait in line.”
“Says the woman who slayed the hearts of half the men in this bar.”
Confident and brazen, she beamed at me. “All but the one I wanted.”
Fucking fuck me. Pink cheeks, full lips. Damn, she was gorgeous.
“Then the sleeves did their job.”
She giggled and shook her head just as the bartender set the appletini down in front of me.
