It’s nice to get away and not focus on work for a change. It seems like Bea is enjoying herself, too. Though, I’ve been counting, and she’s checked her phone twelve times in the last five minutes, so I assume she’s waiting to hear from Laney.
"Do you want another drink?" I stand, noting her almost empty glass.
"I thought you’d never ask. Get me the strongest cocktail they have on the menu." She raises a brow to see if I’ll protest, but I know better. She owns her own pub. Of course, she likes her booze strong.
As I make my way to the bar, my eyes instinctively search the room for Austin Anderson.
I hope like hell I don’t see him.
I don’t even know what I’d do if I did.
Enough time has passed for us to let bygones be bygones and start again. I’d be willing to leave the past in the past, but would he? Maybe seeing him tonight would be a good time to bury the hatchet. I don’t need to know his reasons for hating me anymore. I just hate that I’ve had it hanging over my head for over a decade.
Shoving my hands in my pockets, I wait patiently for the bartender to serve me so I can take the drinks back to our table, where my best friend now sits on the phone, smiling ear to ear.
"I hope you’re ordering a drink for me?" a low, seductive voice asks from behind me.
My body automatically tenses, my head turning in her direction.
I’m no stranger to being hit on in a bar, but tonight, a flirtatious conversation with a stranger isn’t something I want to entertain.
I’m not blind.
She’s fucking hot. She could easily pass as Megan Fox’s twin. And I can’t lie. My dick twitches in my chinos of its own volition at the sight of her.
Bright blue eyes, long, dark brown hair, a skin-tight, lime green dress, and tits pushed up, making them look double their size.I would love to consider the idea of another woman. It’s been a long fucking time since I’ve been laid.
But I can’t do it.
After the creek, and the kiss we almost shared, I knew right then that I wanted Cassandra.
Not as a rebound and not as a one-night stand.
I wanted to be with her.
Our lips might have grazed ever so slightly, and she might have considered it a kiss, but I didn’t. Our first kiss needed to be…explosive. Not almost missable.
A kiss that made her never want to kiss anybody else again.
So, no. I don’t want the Megan Fox wannabe.
I wouldn’t even want the real thing if she showed up on my doorstop.
I just want Cassandra Herring, and I will patiently wait until she realizes that she wants me, too.
"How do you know the birthday girl?" she speaks again, purposely making her voice sound sultry.
"She’s a friend of a friend." I only reply to be polite, but my focus stays locked on the bartender, watching as he pours our drinks.
"Playing hard to get, I see." She tries again, but her voice is now irritated, yet somehow, more eager than it was. This time, I give her an answer I know she wasn’t expecting and isn’t used to hearing from men in bars.
"I’m not playing hard to get. You’re just not my type and I’m not interested. Sorry." I lie, because my mom might have told me that while lying was the coward’s way out, sometimes it’s easier and less painful than admitting the truth.
"I’m everyone’s type." She pouts before nibbling on her bottom lip, and I clear my throat while I wait.
Come on, bartender.
"That’s a shame. I’ve heardhugethings about ex-QB Harley Wingrove. It would have been the best night of your life."
