“But I don’t use it as an excuse if a woman catches my eye.”
“Yeah—if.”
“Hey, at least I don’t pretend to be a hit with the ladies.” Mikey shot him a pointed look, and Shane slid a little farther down in his seat.
So what if he only posted pictures of himself on his social media when an attractive woman was draped over his arm? So what if he made out that his life, when not in the pool or hitting the books, was one big party?
At least the folks back home could see he didn’t give two shits about Fiona anymore.
Mikey’s phone buzzed. “Aw, it’s my dad. I’d better take this.”
“Go ahead. I’ll get another round of drinks.”
Mikey stepped out, and Shane headed to the bar. While he waited to be served, his gaze strayed back to Zoey’s pert backside.
Was Mikey right? Was Shane really ready to start dating again—for real?
And did he have the guts to find out?
“Two bottles of light beer and a glass of orange juice, please mate.” Shane asked the bartender to put the drinks on his room account. Zoey was drinking orange juice. He’d surprise her with this next glass, start a conversation, and see where that conversation went. The other day at lunch, they seemed to have a few things in common—a shared passion for fitness, the same tastes in music and films—so maybe dating and hooking up with a woman wouldn’t be so bad...
The bartender placed the drinks on the bar.
“Thanks.” Taking his and Mikey’s beers with one hand and Zoey’s glass with other, Shane turned.
An elbow struck his hand, sending the juice splashing all over his face.
“Shit, I’m sor—whoa!”
There was skidding and clambering and a hand gripping his arm that almost made him drop the beers.
Krista Gervais.
Another sports therapist from the aquatics center who, every time Shane came across her, was always up to something...interesting.
Shane blinked juice out of his eyes and steadied Krista on her feet—well, not her feet exactly, but ridiculously high heels that had her legs splaying like Bambi on ice.
“Oh, man, I’m so sorry—oh.” Krista’s face fell when she looked up into his. “Shane, I... Um, are you okay?”
Orange juice dripped off his chin to join the wet patch on his shirt. “I’m just dandy, thanks. You?”
“Fine.” She bit her lip, her brow creasing as her gaze traveled to his chest. “Your shirt.”
“And yours.”
“Wha—oh!” She gasped at the thin material of her pale pink blouse that was now wet and see-through across her cleavage, showing off the lacy bra underneath. “I...yeah, I’m just gonna go change!”
She shot out of the bar, her legs moving quickly and awkwardly, as if her ankles were tied together by those impractical shoes. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she swung around. “I’m so sorry about your shirt.”
“It’s fine. Really.”
“Right. Thanks.” She pushed up her lips to what she probably considered a smile, mouthed the wordsorryagain, and then shot up the stairs.
The barman handed him a cloth.
“Thanks,” Shane said. “I’ll leave the beers here, and I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Sure thing.”
