He taps the bar, then picks up a glass before turning around to pour from the bottle on the shelf. “Here you go. Would you like to open a tab?”
I reach for my purse and take out my credit card to hand it to him. “No, I think one will do. Thank you.”
I sip my wine while he runs my card, taking a moment longer than necessary. Then he places the receipt in front of me to sign. “If you want anything else, just let me know.”
I smile politely, reach for the plastic tray holding the receipt for me to sign, and notice he wrote something on there.
Don’t talk to the man at the end of the bar.
I blink a few times, making sure I read it right, and—stupid me—I glance right in the direction of who he’s talking about. Just my luck, the guy is watching me intently, so when we catch eyes, he doesn’t budge one bit, but smiles and waves my way.
A sick feeling washes over me.
Being hit on by someone who is obviously a creep is not something I want to deal with tonight—or ever.
I try my hardest to ignore him and sign the paper, giving the bartender a bigger tip than normal, thanks to the tip he gave me. I slide it his way, and he picks it up, nodding his head in appreciation before getting back to his bartending duties.
I keep my attention glued to the baseball game they have playing on the screen in front of me while I sit back and enjoy my wine.
I thought I was in the clear from the guy at the end of the bar until I hear someone ask, “You here alone?”
A wave of nausea hits me like a car crashing into a brick wall.
The guy is actually decent-looking and dressed in business attire, making me feel like he’s here on a business trip, like me.If the bartender hadn’t warned me of him, then I wouldn’t have given a second thought to talking to him, which scares me even more.
I try to blow him off. “No, my boyfriend is upstairs.” I grin, then turn my attention back to the game.
The guy doesn’t get the hint. “And he let you come have a drink all by yourself? What kind of guy lets a pretty girl sit here all alone?”
“The kind of guy who is standing right here, asking you to leave.” David announces his presence, then pulls the chair out next to me, leaning in and giving me a kiss on the side of my forehead before taking a seat. “Sorry that call took longer than I’d planned.”
“No worries. Glad you made it down before I finished my wine.” I hold up my glass as we play this little charade.
Thankfully, the guy gets the hint and leaves without saying another word.
I place my hand over David’s, a thrilling warmth spreading through me before I can say, “Thank you.”
He stares at me for a second, taking me in, and I’m sure he’s wondering what that little moment I just had was, but thankfully, he doesn’t mention it.
“All good. I could tell you didn’t want to be bothered. I hope the kiss on the forehead wasn’t too much.” He keeps his eyes on the game, acting like what he just did was nothing when I feel like I’m caught in a whirlwind of emotions I can’t control.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asks.
“I’ll take a beer. Whatever you have on tap.” David pulls some cash out of his wallet, setting it on the bar, then gets more comfortable in his seat and turns his head toward me, keeping his body facing the TV. “Were you just as bored in your room as I was?”
“Yeah. I could only watch so many episodes ofThe Big Bang Theorybefore I had to do something else.”
David’s beer is set in front of him, and the guy takes the cash from the bar.
“Keep the change,” David says, and the bartender raises it up in thanks. He nods his agreement, then takes a sip of his drink. “I can only sit on a bed for so long. The chair wasn’t any better. Figured I’d have a beer and at least have a more comfortable place to sit. Didn’t expect to see you down here though.”
“Sorry to disappoint you.” I tilt my head and give him a small smile.
No. No. No. You cannot flirt with this man!
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Zoe
