I tell myself to let it go because she seems to have her guard up. But I can’t help wondering who she is. I want to know her name, what brought her here, what her voice sounds like when she’s not holding back.
I’ve just about convinced myself to lean in and get answers to all of my questions when someone slides up beside our table.
“Jesse Winters,” a familiar voice purrs.
I turn, already smiling. “Hey there.”
She’s tall, confident, in a tight dress that leaves very little to the imagination. I don’t recall her name, but she works for one of Cove’s PR firms, if I remember right.
“I should’ve known you’d be here,” she says, angling her body toward me. “If there’s a crowd or a camera, you’re usually not far away.”
“I guess I’m predictable that way,” I admit, noticing thecolor of her eyes—one green, the other blue. I’m fascinated as hell, but I know better than to mix business with pleasure. Ford would chop off my balls if I slept with her and I like my boys attached to my body.
“I won’t interrupt your evening, just wanted to come over and say hello” she says, hand resting at the back of my chair. “I’m sitting at the bar if you want to find me later. It’s Anna, by the way, in case you need a reminder.”
“Sounds good, Anna.”
She taps her nails once against the back of my chair and walks off with a deliberate sway that says she knows people are watching.
“Unreal,” Mason mutters.
“What?” I ask, playing innocent.
“Do you ever go out and not have some girl all over you?”
“Hasn’t happened yet,” I say, leaning back with a grin.
Luca groans. “My God.”
Carter laughs. “And yet, somehow, magnetic.”
I shrug. “It’s a gift.”
Across from me, the friend hides a smile behind her glass, but I feel New Girl exhale next to me, like she’s already had her fill of my particular brand of charm. I turn slightly toward her, the edge of my knee brushing hers. “I’m heading to the bar,” I say, nodding toward the counter. “Can I get you something?”
Her gaze lifts to mine, steady and cool. “I don’t think your date would appreciate that,” she says, nodding to where Anna is leaning against the bar.
For a second, I just blink. “My—oh.” Then I grin. “You heard that, huh?”
“Hard to miss,” she says dryly. “You might want to focus on one at a time.”
I huff a laugh, can’t help it. “You make it sound likethere’s a list.”
“Just seems to be a pattern,” she counters cooly.
Something about the steady way she is looking at me makes my mouth curve at the edges and my dick take notice. I’ve always had a weakness for a woman who can keep up, who can dish it as good as she can take it.
I drag my thumb along the rim of my beer glass, eyes still on her. “You always this honest with strangers?”
“Only the ones who introduce themselves by flirting with someone else first,” she says, eyes flicking back to her drink.
Ouch. And okay, fair.
“Noted,” I murmur, still smiling as I drag a hand through my hair, a habit that betrays the unexpected nervousness I suddenly feel.
She doesn’t respond, just lifts her glass and takes a slow sip, eyes fixed straight ahead like I’m not even here. It should roll off me—most things do—but for some reason, it doesn’t. There’s something about her calm that gets under my skin. It’s like she’s the only person in the room who doesn’t care who I am…and that alone makes her impossible to ignore.
I am aware of the guys talking around me, but even their occasional bursts of laughter can’t pull my attention away from the woman sitting next to me. Her eyes are on the singer now, her fingers absentmindedly tracing circles in the condensation of her glass.
