JJ barks out a laugh. “Oh fuck. Bobby dated a chick a few months ago who made an entire video of their future wedding.”
I suck in a harsh breath. “No way.”
Laughing, he pulls out his phone. “Give me a sec. I’ll find it.”
The sound of heavy boots tapping against the floor cuts through our laughter, drawing my attention. I turn toward the source and comeface to face with a gorgeous man wearing a fuck-me smirk. As he approaches our table, I drink him in. He’s got dark hair and a tan skin tone, and his whiskey-colored eyes are zeroed in on me.
“Theo, you made it.” Finn waves the guy over.
I glance at Josie, whose jaw is just as slack as mine.
“Yeah, sorry I’m late. I was having drinks with my dad to celebrate the new barrel we’re rolling out.”
I arch a brow. “Barrel?”
Finn sits forward, nodding. “Yeah, Theo’s family owns James Whiskey.”
“You’re Theo James?” My flabbers are ghasted.
Maybe I should have recognized him. The billionaire son of Cash James—the pretty boy NFL quarterback who wears cowboy boots to every game, the Cowboy Quarterback, as he’s often called—is in almost every magazine. Every one but ours, I guess, considering that his aunt Catherine Bouvier, our editor in chief, is married to the owner of James Whiskey’s biggest rival.
Yeah, definitely should have recognized him on the spot. Pretty sure he’s even on a billboard just outside Lang Field. I think he’s holding a bottle of whiskey in the photo. I know he’s wearing his signature cowboy boots. I glance down at his feet now, confirming he’s got them on. Yep. I almost ask if I can get a closer look at them. They’re pretty famous. Maybe more than even him. Especially in the fashion world.
He holds out his hand to me, seemingly not realizing how interested I am in his footwear. “I am, and you are?”
“Your date for the night,” Josie tells him.
Eyes flashing with amusement, he grins down at me. “Sounds like it’s my lucky night, then.”
I bite my lip and survey him, confirming that the interest there is genuine. I guess I’m going on another date.
As this gorgeous man leads me to the bar, though, my traitorous mind wanders to the last man who touched me. It’s ridiculous, really. I doubt Camden has thought of me since our night together.
FOURTEEN
CAMDEN
“Thanks for tonight.”Gemma waltzes past me, winking as she goes.
One by one, women in thin camisoles or bralettes and the shortest shorts ever created head for my front door.
I did not expect to be greeted by a house full of half-naked women when I got home, but I shouldn’t be surprised.
“I thought your class was last night,” I say to Cora as another of her friends appears at the top of the basement stairs.
I don’t know her name, but there’s no forgetting her face. She’s the dancer from my party last week.
“Yeah,” my sister says, “but it was so good we decided to have one more before I head back to Vegas.” She tips her water bottle back and takes a long gulp.
Her friend stops in front of me, her expression curious. “Hey, Cam, your girlfriend here?”
Behind her, my sister nearly spits out a mouthful of water.
Can’t blame her, I guess, since I haven’t had a girlfriend in close to thirty years.
“Not tonight,” I say, though I’m hoping to change that once this parade of women disappears.
The brunette who’s wearing little more than she was the othernight pouts. “Would you ask her to come to one of your sister’s classes? I’d love to see her dance.”
