“They were engaged, planning the wedding and everything,” he said.
“And she broke it off with him?” I asked.
“With her, yeah,” he corrected. “Cue a long line of rebounds and psychos. My aunt really knows how to choose them.”
“Her?” I asked.
“You’re being serious?” he asked jokingly, repeating my earlier line. “You thought that was a straight woman?” he asked.
“Well, no, just, I don’t know, surprised, I guess,” I said, stumbling over my answer.
“Got you kind of hopeful, did it?” he joked, nudging me with his elbow. “You wouldn’t be the first one she’s turned.”
“Turned?” I asked.
“Straight girls have a thing for her, or maybe it’s the other way around, actually.” He laughed.
“I’m not straight. At all,” I told him.
“Really?” he asked.
“Really.” I nodded, finishing my second drink.
“My gaydar is broken,” he said, laughing with me. “So my chances are zero?” he asked.
“Less than that,” I said and patted his shoulder in a conciliatory manner. “Don’t take it hard now, you’re good-looking for a man, I’m sure there’s a lovely straight woman out there for you,” I said jokingly, playing along with his dramatic pout.
“You should be my wingwoman,” he said excitedly.
“Sure,” I said, setting my empty bottle on the bar. I was feeling the buzz.
“I’m serious,” he said.
“Like you need any help, and what help would I be anyway?” I said.
“It hasn’t exactly been open season the last couple of years. I went from the most eligible bachelor. The Lycan People magazine called me ‘The Prince of Sandstorm.’” He turned to me and half-assed waved his hand and did a little bow like he was royal. “Now I’m the disappointment of Sandstorm. From a full roster to crickets. I was humbled so fast,” he said, catching a bartender’s attention, pointing between my empty bottle and his empty glass, and giving a thumbs up. “Another?” he asked.
“Maybe the last for me; I’m feeling a buzz,” I answered.
“You weren’t the problem,” I said, turning as the bartender set the new drinks down.
Darren made a disagreeing huff before picking up his glass.
“It’s true, I mean, I’ve seen you around for what? The past two and a half years?” I asked.
“I had to find something to distract myself,” he said, explaining why he had been as much a regular as Ashford at the poker table.
“I’m saying I’ve seen how you behave when it’s just you and other men. You’re not a bully, you don’t throw your standing or money around, and I’ve never seen you put your hands on any of the waitresses. We’ve been talking for a while now; you’re kind of charming, good-natured—”
“Are you sure my chances are less than zero?” he interrupted.
“And so funny,” I dragged out sarcastically. “What I’m saying is that you weren’t the problem. There’s nothing surface-level that’s ick-giving, you know, other than the whole penis thing.” He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows.
“I’m rather fond of my penis thing,” he joked.
“Gross.” I took a drink from my bottle. “Point being, anyone who disappeared when your title changed wasn’t interested in you for you. You’ve been hanging around the wrong people. Youneed to start interacting with the common classes, your Royal Highness.” I laughed at my own joke.
“No, see, this is why you should be my wingwoman. You’re a woman, and you understand all the social stuff; you’ve got to, right?” he asked.
