I’ve never paid attention to a man’s ass before, but Miles’s is a work of art.
I clench my jaw, and my body reacts before I can stop it.
Nope. Not happening. I’m not about to sit here thirsting over a man who clearly isn’t interested.
Time to break free from this cat-less old lady routine.
I’m hitting the Charlotte bars tonight.
If Miles MacAllister can do it, so can I.
By the time I make it out of my place, it’s already ten-thirty, so instead of calling people I haven’t seen in ages and trying to make plans, I decide to head to the bar I used to go to when I worked in downtown Charlotte.
It’s the kind of place where everyone who’s somebody in the finance district goes to blow off steam, close deals, or celebrate.
After handing my fob key to the valet, I make my way inside. The mix of smoke and whiskey hits me the moment I open the door, and I instantly feel out of place.
Damn, I’m old.
It’s been a hot minute since I’ve had anything stronger than a glass of wine. I’m not sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way, I went from being the girl who knew about every party in town to someone who looks forward to the weekend just to rest and unplug.
I’m a fucking millionaire, for fuck’s sake.
Why am I still working?
Because I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. I’m not someone who can exist without a task, without something to work toward.
After a quick look around, I spot an empty stool at the bar and pick up my pace. The last thing I want is to stand awkwardly by myself at one of those high tables.
I’m wearing a cream silk sleeveless top, dark jeans, and my orange Manolo pumps—the ones I love. I threw on an orange, red, and black plaid jacket and called it a day.
Simple. Yet classy and sophisticated.
“Hey, gorgeous. What are you drinking tonight?” the bartender asks, adding a wink for extra effect.
And to think that used to melt my panties in my twenties.
A quiet laugh slips out of me at the thought. “French 75. Extra bubbly,” I say, pulling my black AmEx out of my purse.
The bartender whistles and gets to work on my drink.
I’m dying to know if Miles ended up going out.
Ugh. Why do I have to be so into the most infuriating, cocky, backwoods charmer ever?
Before I can talk myself out of it, I pull up the group chat with the Azalea Creek gals and fire off a text.
Penny: Hey ladies! Happy Fri-night! What are we up to?
My phone vibrates almost immediately, and a warm smile spreads across my lips. I’ve never really had many girlfriends, but the women I’ve met through Gio? They’re all exceptional.
Rain: Penny Lane? Is it really you? Blink twice if someone has you hostage.
I cackle at Rain’s text, quickly covering my face. I don’t want to draw attention. I’m enjoying my time alone with my thoughts.
Carly: Shit! What Rain asked. Penny, are you okay?
Ruin: Hi Penny! So good to hear from you after business hours. It’s good to know you don’t forget about us once you go back to the big city.
