Ana joined her as she waited for Tammy to grab the juice from the fridge.
“The band’s all ready to go, and they saved us a table up front. Skip’s already sweated through his shirt.” She wrinkled her nose, then brightened at spotting something over Mabel’s shoulder. “Ooooh, can we invite those guys to sit with us?Guapísimo.”
Mabel turned to see that the crowd at the bar had shifted to reveal a group of extraordinarily buff men who knew how to put the free weights at the gym to good use. “Guapísimoindee—” she started to agree. Then her voice compressed into a strangled croak.
Holy hell.The guy with his back to her was the one she’d been looking for since she walked in, and Lord have mercy, he lookedgood.His soft, broken-in jeans hugged his long, strong thighs, and the arms of his gray T-shirt curved around the bulge of his biceps. The muscles of his back flexed as he brought a beer bottle to his lips, the fabric pulling across his broad shoulders, and Mabel swallowed a whimper.
“Good luck!” Ana whispered before disappearing, leaving Mabel to snatch up the glass that Tammy had just set in front and down a big swig.
At that moment, as if his Mabel-senses started tingling, Jake turned and cocked his head, shooting her a lazy grin. “Well, hello.” He leaned an elbow against the bar top and ran his tongue along the inside of his lower lip as his gaze traveled down her body. “Looking good there, Mae Bell.”
She almost dropped her glass. “H-hello,” she managed to squeak. “You look, um… casual.”
He threw his head back in a laugh while she absorbed every devastating aspect of weekend Jake. His body was both leaner and thicker than she expected, if that were possible. As well cut as his suits were, they didn’t do justice to the way his wide shoulders tapered to his trim waist, and they cruelly concealed the muscle definition that his T-shirt was revealing: biceps, pecs, traps, the whole deal. She bet he had a six-pack under there. Maybe even an eight-pack. He oozed sex appeal in a suit and tie, but his weekend wear may have just annihilated her last defenses against him.
She swallowed hard as her eyes traveled to his face, where he was watching with amusement as she ogled him. Oh, fuck her luck, he had a hint of dark stubble on his jaw. She was doomed.
“Wow,” she said faintly, gulping another slug of her drink and trying to rally. “Did you feel weird leaving home without a tie?”
He leaned close to mock-whisper, “Would you believe that I still feel weird with one on?”
She assessed him briefly. “Nope. I think you were born with a tiny power-stripe around your neck.”
He laughed again, his white teeth practically glowing in the dim bar lighting. “Ties took some getting used to, believe me.”
She nervously rattled the ice cubes in her glass and pointed toward the stage. “We’ve got a table waiting for us up front.”
“Lead the way.” He grabbed his beer bottle off the bar.
“Miss Mae?” Tammy’s voice stopped her. “Here. I think you’ll need this.”
She slid another Harvey Wallbanger across the bar to her and sent a pointed look toward Jake. Mabel flushed and hoped her brain-scrambling waves of lust weren’t obvious to every single person in the vicinity.
“Thanks,” she muttered, finishing her first drink and plucking the second one from the bar. She was keenly aware of Jake’s presence behind her as she led him across the crowded room. Between fans of the station and fans of the Moo Daddies, much of the crowd tonight knew who she was, so she nodded and smiled when people waved to her, trying to tamp down her nervousness at being someplace so public with Jake. Where was his head about tonight? She had no idea if he was as confused about the possible shift in their dynamic as she was. So far he’d been his usual friendly self, if a little loose with that hot gaze on her body earlier. But that wasn’t an answer either way.
By the time they were settled into their seats, Dave and the band were onstage and Mabel had sucked down most of her second drink in an attempt to keep her mouth occupied so she wouldn’t blurt out any of the things she wanted to say. Things like, “Isn’t it a little hot for all these clothes?” and “Why can’t I stop thinking about kissing you?”
Thankfully, the band launched into “Rockin’ in the Free World” and kept her from saying anything unwise. Dave played lead guitar and sang while Skip played bass and Aiden Murdoch, who had the body of a Greek statue and the morals of an alley cat, bashed the drums. By the end of the night, Dave would be wasted but still nailing every song, Skip’s cue ball head would be glistening with sweat, and Aiden would have picked out the lucky lady of the night.
As the crowd went wild after the first song, Jake turned to her and hollered, “They’re really good!”
“I know!” she hollered back with a grin.
He glanced down at her half-empty glass and jumped to his feet. “Be right back.”
As soon as he was gone, Ana leaned across the table and yelled over the music, “My God, his arms are huge. Are you seriously telling me there have been no quickies at all?”
Mabel frantically shushed her. “Stop! Nobody’s having any quickies!” At least they wouldn’t be if she couldn’t get a handle on what they both wanted. Ana merely leaned back in her chair with the delighted laugh of a happily married woman, the lucky bish.
Jake returned within the span of one song with a beer for himself and another Wallbanger for her, and the simple brush of his fingers when he handed her the glass almost sent her over the edge.
She was a boat tossing on choppy waters, the churn courtesy of her fear over dropping the last of her protective walls. But if not with Jake, then what man would ever be enough? He was worth the risk. She was almost positive of it.
As the band plowed through its first set—covers of the Red Hot Chili Peppers, the Beatles, Cage the Elephant, a little bit of Alice Cooper—more and more people arrived, and the place got even noisier, making conversation impossible. Mabel sipped a fresh drink, this one courtesy of Ana, and willed herself to relax as the tingle of good booze spread through her midsection. She was in a packed bar while her best friend did what he loved, his eyes shut tight as his fingers danced across the strings of his guitar. At her table was his lovely wife alongside the man Mabel liked far more than she should, given the circumstances. There was no reason she couldn’t just float on this lovely cloud of vodka and music and energy from the crowd.
Jake looked relaxed too, sprawled in his chair with his long legs stretched in front of him. This loose, smiling man was night and day different from the tailored number cruncher she’d met in July, and a rush of affection for him flooded her chest when she realized he was watching her watching him.
“What?” she yelled over a particularly raucous version of “Mary Jane’s Last Dance.”
