“Yes, ma’am,” she says, and I add, “Put it on mine.”
Cassie swaps the empty for a fresh one.
I rest an elbow on the bar and turn to her. “I didn’t take you for a Budweiser girl.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” She drags a finger through the condensation on the bottle, turning it between her hands. “Yet.”
“Yet?” My voice drops as her knee presses further into mine.
“If you’re lucky.”
She takes another drink, her tongue catching a stray drop on her lower lip.
I clear my throat. “I could use some luck.”
“I guess I could, too. What do you need luck for… Wait, no. Let me guess.” She leans in, propping her chin on her fist as she studies me. “You’re a pharmaceutical rep. Viagra. And you’re angling for araise.” She waggles her brows.
I choke on the sip I just took. “I think I should be offended.”
“You don’t seem like the type to get easily offended.”
“You sound pretty sure of yourself.”
She shrugs. “I’m wise beyond my years.”
“How old are you?” I’d guess twenty-five.
“Twenty-seven. What about you?”
“Twenty-nine.” I lean further into her space. “It’s the suit, isn’t it?”
She gives me a quick dip of her chin, her eyes tracing over my features. “You’re not wearing glasses. You were wearing them earlier.”
“Can’t wear them when I play.”
Her brows pull together. “Oh, let me guess?—”
“You always size people up like this?” I take another swig. “Shouldn’t you get your notepad out? Take some notes?”
“I just might.” She grins and eases back in her seat, still studying me, her knees pressed firmly against my leg.
“Pickleball,” she declares. “You’re in an intramural pickleball league, aren’t you?”
I bark a laugh. “You think I only look athletic enough to play pickleball?”
“Don’t knock it, I hear the competition is brutal.” Her smile widens, bright despite the bar’s dim lighting. “Maybe I could join your league?”
Jesus. I can’t decide whether she’s serious or just messing with me. Either way, I don’t want her to stop. Which has me saying, “We can play.”
“Yeah, we can.” She winks, and heat crawls up my neck.
“Are you here by yourself? Or out with friends?”
“My friend. She just stepped out for some air. What about you?”
“Alone. What are you?—”
“Miles?” a familiar voice cuts in.
