I could take her home with me right now. Say something charming to let her friends know I’m not a psycho, and then whisk her away. I’m sure we’d have fun.
She leans in and I think she’s going to try and kiss me, but she goes for my ear instead. She whispers, “You can have me any way you want me.”
And then she bites my ear.
That’s all it takes. To stomp out whatever tiny embers of desire I was starting to feel.
“Ouch!” I hold my hand to my ear and scowl at my attacker.
“Steph . . .”
It’s the friend who hasn’t said anything yet. She’s the prettiest. Blonde. Sweet and wholesome looking. I prefer brunettes, but I wouldn’t kick her out of bed for eating crackers — as my old man used to say.
“. . . why don’t we leave this lovely gentleman alone,” Miss Sweet and Innocent says.
She and I make eye contact; she can see I’m not really feeling the drunken ambush, nor her friend’s inconsiderate treatment of my earlobe.
The other friend — the one who said I could use a drink — grabs copper-hair’s arm and tugs. “Come on, let’s go.”
My ear attacker lets herself be pulled along, reluctantly. But before she goes, she turns to me and mouths, with a definitely unsexy pout, “come find me.”
I wave at the trio as they head back to the bar.
In spite of myself, my interaction with them now has me thinking about . . . well, sex and women.
I consider my options right now.
I could flirt with one of the groupies, but it would feel cheap.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a man who looks down on a one-night stand. But it’s not right for tonight.
Maybe I should see if I can strike a conversation with Katie after all. See what she’s all about. She might appreciate me, being sober and all — in comparison to the rest of these savages.
I look over at the bar, where she’s chatting up customers. Nah. She’s busy. And I’m sure the last thing she wants is the guy who’s been nursing one glass of water all night. At least I tipped on the water.
I realize I haven’t thought about Sully for a good ten minutes. I feel a pang of shame.
If you can’t take one night off from chasing tail to remember a best buddy who died on the job, that’s pretty sad.
My conscience might have a point there. I’m hopeless.
I put my head in my hands and close my eyes. Maybe I should just get out of here. I mean, what’s the point of sticking around. Clearly, the whole sitting in Sully’s favorite booth thing isn’t having the mystical effect I thought it would. I just look like a weirdo, hanging out in the corner by myself. I stand out like a sore thumb.
Yeah, I think I’m going to go home.
I get up, and start wearily trudging over to the exit.
But before I take two steps, I see her.
Who is that? She is gorgeous.
I realize my mouth is now hanging open, so I close it. I don’t want to look like a gawping idiot. But I can’t take my eyes off her. Her features are dark and full against her pale skin. Her hair — dark brown, almost black — cascades in tight curls over her bare shoulders. And her curves! Good. Lord.
They’re overflowing, and she makes the pin-up girls on old bomber planes look anorexic.
Wait. That’s Julia she’s sitting next to her.
Which means . . .
