“Maybe I should’ve stayed home,” I muttered, closing my eyes. My couch and a quiet movie night sounded like heaven right now. Hell, even going to bed before midnight felt like a better choice than sitting here drowning in self-pity and bad beer.
When I opened my eyes, a woman in a shiny green dress stood on the other side of my table. “You’re quite curious, you know that?” she said, her voice carrying a lilting tone of mischief. “I can figure out what everyone desires in this room, except you.”
I blinked, caught off guard because…what? The woman made no sense. She had to be drunk; it was the only rational explanation. I waited for her to smile, laugh, or give me some noticeable indication she was joking, but she just stared at me.
“Maybe that’s because you don’t know me,” I replied, my tone sharper than intended.
She didn’t seem to notice. Instead, she grinned and extended a delicate hand. “I don’t have to know someone to know what their hearts want but, if it helps, I’m Dahlia.”
Her hand was small and cool against mine as I shook it. I took her in, trying, despite swearing that I’d take the night off, to determine if she could bethe one.
She had burgundy red hair that tumbled over her shoulders in long, straight strands, a smattering of freckles across fair skin, and green eyes more vibrant than the drink in her hand. She was pretty and outgoing, and I had no reason to cross her off my list of potentials. Except she didn’tfeellike the one.
“And you are?” Dahlia prompted when I didn’t respond.
“Liam.”
“Ah, Irish for ‘strong-willed warrior.’ Are you Irish?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” I quipped, but I’d been called a less friendly version of strong-willed on more than one occasion. Nature of the beast when you own a bar and frequently play bouncer to kick assholes out. Or when you have three older brothers who’d never looked at you like you were worth a damn. I’d done many foolish things simply because I was too stubborn to lose whatever had been wagered.
Hence my current predicament.
“Hmm, pity. That would make more sense.” Dahlia sighed dramatically, taking a slow sip of her fizzy green drink through a black paper straw. “I can’t get a read on you and it’s driving me mad.”
I raised an eyebrow, curious despite knowing I should disengage and leave. “Because you can tell everyone’s desires?”
“Yup.” She popped the “p” with exaggerated flair. “It’s my blessing and my curse.”
“Prove it.”
Dahlia’s grin widened at the challenge and she leaned back, casually scanning the room. After a quiet moment, she pointedat the man across the bar with her straw. “Sex,” she said and then pointed to the next person and then the next. “Sex. Cookies. Sex. To leave. A nap. Sex.”
Despite myself, I snorted. This was crazy and yet I was sucked in, unable to walk away.
“What about her?” I nodded toward the brunette at the far corner of the bar chatting with a blonde man in thick-rimmed glasses.
To Holly Flynn.
I noticed her twice tonight, and both times, she was talking with someone new. I couldn’t tell if she sought the men out or if they were as drawn to her as I was, but unlike them, I wasn’t in the mood to get shot down. If I added her to the lot of women who couldn’t be the one for some reason or another, that would make her number… I didn’t even know. I didn’t want to know.
Dahlia followed my gaze and when she found the brunette, her lips curved knowingly. “Oh, interesting,” she murmured more to herself than to me. “That one? She wants to have fun.”
“What kind of fun?” I asked, watching as she laughed at something the blonde man said. The sound carried like music over the chatter of the bar and it struck a nerve inside me.
It pissed me off.
I was angry—jealous even—which was stupid because we hadn’t spoken in years, not since college. Not since I blew my chance with her.
“The kind where she gets to play games without worrying about strings.”
“She’s not going to find that here,” I said, frowning, unable to tear my gaze away from her.
She was magnetic.
Beautiful in a subtle kind of way that slapped you in the face. Holly wasn’t in an over-the-top, sexy outfit like most of the women out tonight. Just jeans and a white T-shirt with goldletters. If she wore makeup, it was subtle—natural looking. Long brown hair fell in loose waves to the middle of her back, but she twisted one strand through her fingers.Was she nervous or flirting?
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Dahlia leaned in conspiratorially. “Perhaps you could help her.”
