Mistake.
Big mistake because Hotter-than-hot bartender is less than three feet away and looking right at me, those bright blue eyes of his jamming my heart into my throat the second they hook themselves into mine.
Giving him the ice queen to cover up the fact that I very nearly swallowed my own tongue, I look away which evidently was the wrong thing to do because as soon as I do, he starts to laugh, the sound of it stiffening my spine in an instant.
Looking back at him, I arch an eyebrow in his direction. “I’m sorry,” I say before I can stop myself. “Did I do something to amuse you?”
“Nope…” Mr. Hotter-than-hot keeps laughing and shakes his head. “Not a thing.” Before I can call him a liar, he keeps talking. “Millicent?”
Sitting back in my seat, I feel my eyebrows furrow. “Excuse me?”
“I’m trying to guess what Millie is short for,” he says in a tone that saysisn’t it obvious?“Millicent?”
“No.” I shake my head, brow still furrowed. “It’s short for?—”
He arches a thick, dark brow at me. “If I wanted you to tell me, Princess, I would’ve asked,” he says, his tone shifting to something a little bit more commanding. “I don’t want you to tell me. I want to guess.”
“You’re never going to guess,” I tell him with a matter-of-fact shrug, trying to cover up the fact that the heaviness in his tone has me squirming in my seat.
So he’s hot, Millie—big deal? As usual, that means too hot for you.
The corner of his perfectly shaped mouth twitches into an insolent smirk. “So you think I’m stupid then?”
“No.” I say it again, rocking back on my stool like he took a swing at me. “I’m sure you’re averagely intelligent, it’s just that?—”
“Averagely intelligent.Wow…” He laughs again, the sound of it sliding down my rigid spine to pool, warm and heavy, between my legs. Arching another dark eyebrow at me, he shakes his head. “You’re kind of an asshole, aren’t you?”
Instead of feeling insulted, I feel flushed. Slightly woozy, like I’ve just stepped off a fast-spinning merry-go-round. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” I tell him with an insolent smirk of my own. “Guys like you rarely have to rely on brains to get what you want.”
“Guys like me?” Still grinning, he reaches a tattooed hand under the bar and produces a clean wine glass. Setting it in front of me, he pulls my stolen bottle of wine from the auto-chiller and tips it over the rim. “Whatever do you mean, Mildred?”
“I mean guys who look like you don’t have to worry about impressing women with their brain.” Am I flirting? Is this what it feels like? Am I even doing it right? “And my name isn’t Mildred.”
He makes a rough sound in the back of his throat before planting his hands on the bar to lean over it. “So, that’s it then,” he says, his face suddenly inches from mine.
Easing myself back because I suddenly can’t breathe, I pick up the wine he poured me. Bringing the rim of the chilled glass to my lips, I take a sip, drawing his gaze instantly to my mouth. Pretending not to notice, I lower it on a small head shake that sends the room spinning. “That’s what?”
“You’re not an asshole, Matilda…” His quirks at the corner, just enough to tell me he knows the effect he has on me. “You think I’m hot.”
I let out a huffed breath while hoping it sounds less like I’ve been punched in the gut and more like I’m offended by his impudence. “Is that so?”
“It is.” His direct blue gaze lifts to find mine. “And you want to kiss me—you’re just not sure how you feel about it.”
Mouth falling open on a soft intake of breath, I blink at him. “That’s not my name either,” I say, suddenly too slow and stupid for scathingly flirty banter.
He smiles at me, the spread of it slow and so incredibly sexy I can literally feel myself melting into my seat. “Well, I?—”
Before he can say whatever it is he’s about to say, a loud burst of giggles bounces around the veranda while my sister and ten of her closest friends flood the bar.
“Hey, Hotbartender—” one of Gwen’s bridesmaids says while she wedges herself between us with a pretty pout. “We want shots. Paige says you make great slippery nipples.”
Like someone flipped a switch, the slow, sexy smile on his face is instantly aimed at someone else and, just like that, I cease to exist.
“Slippery nipples…” Giving her a wink, he reaches under the bar and pulls out a stack of shot glasses and starts lining them up in front of him. “I can do that.”
A cheer erupts from the other side of the bar while my heart does this weird funny thing where it races and sinks all at once. Pushing a smile onto my face, I take another drink of my wine while Gwen and her friends chatter and shriek, their collective volume stuck ondrunk sorority girl.
Face frozen in a smile, I watch while Mr. Hotter-Than-Hot fills a shaker with ice before giving it a long pour of butterscotch schnapps, laughing and flirting with the girl who interrupted us like I’m not even here.
