Her eyes narrowed. “Yeah?”
“Well, he sat next to me at the bar, and he was on the phone telling his buddy about how he’s going to win the world’s most disgusting game of bingo by sleeping with a girl who was both a virgin and ...” How did I say the next part without being just as gross as he was?
“Let me guess,” she said as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Not from around here.”
“That was the gist,” I said. “Also, he has a fiancée named Chelsea.”
“What?”
I checked the mirror to make sure her shriek hadn’t shattered the glass.
Her eyes flashed. But then suspicion replaced anger. “Why are you telling me this?”
“While it would’ve been easier to sit there and drink my wine and not do anything, I’ve called a moratorium on watching men take advantage of women. It really chaps my hide.”
She took in my age—advanced—and my attire—baggy T-shirt, holey jeans, Converse—before nodding.
“Fair enough,” she said with a sigh. “I can’t believe I stopped working on my presentation for this.”
“Some guys can pour on the charm when they want to.”
Oh, how I’d learned that lesson the hard way.
“For what it’s worth,” I said, “you’re really making that outfit work for you.”
She looked down at her miniskirt, knee-high boots, and slouch-necked sweater that fell off one shoulder to reveal a lacy bra strap, then tossed her jet-black hair over her shoulder. “Thanks.”
It was just the sort of outfit a woman agonized over before a first date. Sexy, but not too sexy. Comfortable, but not too comfortable. Dressy, but not too dressy. Perfect for a cooler-than-usual spring date night.
Just the thought of having to go through that whole dating rigamarole again made me want to look for a cave where I could be a hermit. Bonus points if I could also yell indignantly at the sky from time to time.
She took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders back. “I guess I should go kick him to the curb.”
“You can definitely do better,” I said.
“Iknowthat,” she said with a dazzling smile.
Envy gave a visceral tug in my belly. I’d kill to get my old confidence back, but ever since the night that would live on in infamy, I’d seen only wrinkles and single strands of silver peeking out from my auburn hair. “Tell the bartender to get you a glass of whatever you like and to put it on Stella’s tab.”
“Thanks,” she said before we did an avoid-the-toilet dance in the tight space so she could exit.
She left the bathroom, and I took advantage of the facilities. I poured what was left of my wine down the sink and resolved to get a new one. Rationally, I knew the drink couldn’t pick up germs just frombeingin a cleaner-than-the-average-dive-bar bathroom, but ... nah. No need to chance it.
The first thing I noticed upon exiting the restroom was an unnatural quiet.
Patrons no longer chattered but instead studied the couple at the bar. Havisham stood tensely coiled, like a lioness about to pounce. Soft Hands should’ve been grateful that looks couldn’t kill. Instead, he appeared to be in double-down mode.
“And why would you believeher? I really thought we had a connection, Daisy, but I can’t trust you if you’re going to question me like this.”
Bold attempt to salvage your plan, Broseph.
My new bathroom buddy’s shoulders slumped.
“Hey, hey.” He laid a hand on her shoulder, then inclined his head to where I stood. “She’s just jealous. Look at her. I’d never go for a woman likethat.”
All eyes in the bar found their way to me.
“She’s old enough to be my mother.”
