Alas, when your Dad has always been in the spotlight, people don’t care aboutyou. They only want to get close to me to get to my father. Growing up, I never knew who to trust, so I built a wall around my heart. Really, it’s more of a fortress, and it’s epic and totally impenetrable—complete with a drawbridge, moat and crocodile.
It’s like I’m in that bubble scene inLabyrinth, desperate to get out as the clock of my life ticks away in this political hellhole. Only there are no chairs to throw, and my Goblin King isn’t real. It’s just masks and that hazy feeling that something’s not right.
“Miss?” The waitress stops at our table with a frown as she rests a red and orange glass in front of me. “This was sent over from the blond man at the bar.” I turn around to notice a man gazing at me from across the restaurant. He lifts his beer glass with a friendly smile.
I hold back the urge to ask if it’s really for me. I’m not the type of woman that men pick up at a bar. I’m the secret Tinder hookup they don’t talk about—the invisible fat friend around my old sorority sisters—the means to an end.
All the men in my past made me feel like I’m only marginally better than their hand. Disposable Daphne.
I’m not entirely convinced the blond man is looking at me and not our waitress’ ass.
The waitress darts away, and without her hips obstructing my view, there’s a clear line of sight to the man rising from his seat. He buttons his jacket, then retrieves his beer and beelines straight for me. His brown eyes lock onto mine. It’s impossible not to notice his nineties-heartthrob vibes with tousled hair that has a rolled-out-of-bed look. The bar’s warm light glints off his horn-rimmed glasses as he halts in front of me.
He resembles those rare, golden-haired heroes who pop up in the romance novels I read. Why are they always tall, dark, and handsome shadow daddies? Give me a well-built blond man with a friendly smile and dimples any day of the week.
“Hello.” His gravelly voice sends a rolling wave of goosebumps on my arms.
“Hi.”
“I hope I’m not being too forward.” His eyes brighten like he knows he is, but he doesn’t give a damn. “I noticed you from across the room, and you seem uncomfortable with your date. If you’re looking for better company, I’m available.”
Blondie’s attractive with his carved cheekbones and easygoing smile. He’s the kind of guy who swipes right on Tinder but leaves before I’m truly satisfied. The one who says he has an early meeting, so he can kick me out that night rather than confront his mistake in the daylight.
“You know,” I say, “of all the pickup lines I’ve heard, that’s not the worst.”
“Well, if you need an excuse to escape, you could give me your number, and I’ll call you when Abercrombie gets back from the bathroom. I’m happy to play your knight inshining armor.” He winks, and damn, that’s somehow more charming than his smile.
But I’m not a damsel in distress. White knight kinks aren’t my thing, but maybe they’re his.
“Tempting. But it’s not that easy to get my number.”
“Oh, really? I like a challenge.” The man taps the rim of his beer glass against my drink on the table. “Hope you don’t mind a tequila sunrise.”
“I haven’t had one in years. But thank you.” Taking the glass, I lift it to my lips. It’s not half-bad. At least it’s freshly squeezed orange juice, and there’s not a sickly amount of grenadine pooled in the bottom.
He rolls his shoulders back as he pushes away one side of his jacket to slide his hand in his pocket. His Breguet watch flashes in the chandelier light. Probably a knockoff, judging by his scuffed shoes that look like they’re from Target.
Nothing wrong with Target. Hell, I shop there. But when you’re wearing a fifty-thousand-dollar watch on your wrist and fifty-dollar shoes on your feet, the math isn’t mathing.
“So, what’s your poison of choice? I’ve always been a beer guy myself.”
“I can see that.” Does this guy think I’m blind? He’s cute, but Blondie gets more annoying the more he talks.
“Daphne?” Connor’s voice drifts back over to the table.
Great, now I’m cornered by two pricks in suits.
Connor slides into his seat, eyeing our unwelcome guest with suspicion. “Friend of yours?”
Before I can speak, Blondie jumps in. “Apologies. I thought she was alone.”
“Well, she’s not.” Connor huffs in annoyance, like his presence should be known, even if he’s not in the room.
Blondie’s chocolate brown eyes spark with amusement as he tugs his hand free from his pocket and rests it over his chest. “I didn’t realize you were on a date. Mea culpa.”
The liar!
His smile never falters as he returns to the bar, his cheeky grin reflected in the mirrors.
