He drew himself up to his full height and looked down his nose at me. “I don’t drink during the week normally.”
“How about abnormally?” I snickered, but he didn’t join in, and I wondered where the young man who used to tell corny jokes had disappeared to and why. “Oh, come on. What’re you afraid of? You might enjoy my company?”
He pursed his lips as if a bad odor hit him. “Hardly.”
“Damn, you’re an uptight SOB. What do you do for fun, sit in the dark?”
“I don’t have much time for fun. I’m busy with meaningful work that helps people.”
“Judgmental much?”
He snorted. “Are you comparing your work to mine?”
Seething, I closed my eyes and practiced the meditative breathing Flynn, my yoga instructor in LA, had taught me. Recentered, I once again felt in control enough to speak. “We can continue this scintillating conversation over our drinks. Come on.” When he still hesitated, I quirked a brow. “Afraid I’ll get you drunk and take advantage of you?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” He tugged at his suit jacket. “Fine. One drink.”
Side by side, we left the building and crossed the street to the little bar on the corner. “Remember when we used to come up here during senior year? It was like a different world from our neighborhood. Now I don’t even recognize the city, it’s changed so much.”
“Everything changes…people, cities. It’s a natural evolution.”
This wasn’t going to be easy. I held the door open for Roe, and when he passed by me, I caught that scent of oranges and cinnamon again. A corner table sat empty, and I pointed to it.
“What do you want to drink? I’ll order from the bar and bring it over.”
“Just a beer on tap.”
At the long, polished mahogany bar, I slid in next to a blonde woman in a black dress and caught the cute bartender’s attention with a smile and a wave.
“Hey, there. What can I get you, besides my number?” He winked.
Great. A comedian.“Your best on tap and a Tito’s on the rocks with lime.”
“I’m guessing the beer is for your sad friend? I’ll give him a shot on the side. That’ll turn his frown upside down, although if I had you across my table, I’d be smiling into the next morning.” As he talked, he made the drinks, so I couldn’t fault him for wasting my time with flirting. He was young, with dark, glossy curls, and pale, luminous skin that accentuated full cherry-red lips. Outrageously long lashes framed brown eyes lined in black pencil, and he fluttered them at me when he set my drinks down.
“You can’t be more than twenty-five years old. Am I right?” I pulled out two twenties and laid them on the bar.
“Twenty-three, and so what?” He licked those plump lips, and I almost laughed at his outrageous, practiced seduction.
“I’m seventeen years older than you. And keep the change.”
He scooped the bills off the bar top and gave me another saucy grin. “I like my men older. If you strike out with him, come back to me, Daddy. I’ll be your good boy tonight.”
Holy shit. Kids these days were blatant. Either that, or since I kept to my own age, I wasn’t aware. I took the drinks and made a beeline for our table, where Monroe sat staring at the television mounted on the wall.
“Having fun?” He tipped his chin toward the bar. “I could recognize a pickup even from over here.”
Shaking my head, I slid his beer and shot across the little round table and sat across from him. “Damn, he was bold. Shockedme, and I thought I’d seen and heard it all. He even called me Daddy.”
For the first time since we’d reconnected, Monroe laughed, and I sat entranced as he transformed before my eyes from the silent, morose man to one whose blue eyes sparkled with humor. His generous lips revealed a wickedly charming smile.
“Not into the scene?”
Relieved to have started out the conversation on better terms than earlier in the evening, I sipped my drink. “I’m not into any scene, and I have little desire to be anyone’s daddy. In my opinion, lovers, like fine wine, improve with age. I’m not interested in twenty-three-year-old kids.” I held his gaze and watched his smile fade, but this time not from anger.
He grabbed the glass and drank deeply, leaving an endearing, foamy moustache on his upper lip. Without thinking, I reached over and traced the wetness. His breath hitched, and I drew myself closer. My thumb traveled slowly over his lips, and for the second time tonight, I witnessed desire in a man’s eyes, but this time I allowed myself to respond and leaned forward.
An abrupt shift of his chair moved him out of reach, but he didn’t leave, so I counted it as a win.
