That was when he spottedhim.
At the far end of the bar sat a dark haired man, turned in Conan’s direction. He was Asian, smartly tailored, and eye-catching. Conan felt his heart stumble. He was gorgeous, even from a distance, Conan could tell. Cupid bow lips, pale complexion, sharp jaw.
Where’d he been an hour ago when Conan had been scoping the bar?
Denny kept talking, oblivious to how Conan’s attention had shifted.
The other man smirked, as if he found Conan’s situation amusing.
Was he interested? Conan watched him raise his drink–something tall and purple–to his lips and take a sip, and his eyes stayed on Conan.
New plan.
The other man, with his button up, watch, and leather dress shoes, probably wasn’t going home to Mommy.
Except.
Except Conan had spent his last five dollars on the proverbialchildin front of him, and now had no opening. The other man looked… like he wouldn’t be impressed if Conan walked over empty-handed.
But did he have a choice?
He thought about striking out tonight. Thought about trekking back to his car, curling up in the backseat to sleep. It was supposed to snow tonight. Winter was coming, and the temperatures were expected to dip below freezing.
Conan’s car battery had died, so he couldn’t even turn the damn thing on to defrost if shit got bad. Today had been a combination of bad choices and bad luck. He’d picked up extra hours at the mill for the money, gotten off after sunset, and by the time he’d walked back to his car, he’d found the battery that had been stuttering for weeks was finally dead.
Tonight of all nights.
Which was how he’d ended up at the bar, spending his last twenty dollars trying to find some pretty thing willing to take him home. A stopgap between now and him getting cash in hand on Friday.
Conan weighed the options. He could keep standing here letting Darrell talk, but there was no future in it. Time was wasting, and even the bars wouldn’t be open forever.
Trying the other man was worth the risk. Conan didn’t have any more cash, but he could still try and spin some flattery. A swing and a miss was better than not getting up to bat.
Decision made, he forced his eyes back to Declan. “Excuse me,” he said, cutting into whatever the man had been saying, “Going to go take a piss.”
Daniel made a face, but Conan didn’t care. He was already moving toward the bathroom. There’d been a little truth in his excuse, he did need to take a leak before attempting this next bit. He had a feeling it was going to take every bit of charm and attention he had.
In the bathroom Conan formulated a plan. The other man had looked… prissy. His appearance had been neat, and if Conan had to guess, that watch was probably worth something. So he had money, and he had looks. He was probably used to getting chatted up in bars. Conan would have to be interesting, different.
When Conan finished washing his hands, he fussed with his hair. He was still dressed from work in a T-shirt, jacket, and jeans, but he wasn’t going back to the car to change now. Sometimes the blue-collar thing worked with the prissy types, and he’d just have to hope this was one of those occasions.
As he came out of the bathroom, Conan’s eyes went to the bar stool, and found it empty.
Fuck.
His eyes skirted the bar, looking for that sharp smile, those piercing eyes.
He caught, just as the door shut, a tall, thin man in an expensive looking full length wool coat slipping out.
“Shit,” Conan grumbled, coming to a stop beside the now empty stool.
Tonight was really not his fucking night.
He gave another cursory glance around the bar, but there were no other opportunities. He could go back to Mama’s Boy, but what would be the fucking point?
It had been a second since he’d been this far north going into October, and he cursed himself. He should’ve gone south already. Shouldn’t have spent his small savings on the car engine rebuild.
What good was the car to him now?
