“What the hell am I supposed to call myself?” I huff.
Dutton’s lips curl up at the corners. “How about Joe Blow?”
Swear to god, these people give me a headache.
I head downstairs, channeling Joe Blow, just a regular guy and not billionaire Remington Hale.
My eyes lock onto the woman, who is staring down at her phone. I lose sight of her for a second as people flood onto the dance floor, but once she’s in my line of sight once again, I frown.
Some blond asshole is standing beside her table, chatting her up.
Fuck no. This won’t do. This won’t do at all.
CHAPTER TWO
Duck Face vs. Hot Guy
Mindy
I pullat the top of my dress, the one my friend Caroline insisted I wear, and that only makes it ride up higher at the bottom. “Dammit to hell,” I curse, attempting to situate this tiny scrap of material so it covers all my goodies.
I didn’t even want to come out tonight, but my best friend insisted. We live on Galveston Island, though we made the trek up to Houston because of some guy Caro has been seeing for about a month. Looking out at the dance floor, I see them trying to eat each other’s face off.
Good for her.I’ve met Brayden a couple times, and he seems nice. He even mentioned moving from Houston down to the island, so I guess it’s getting pretty serious.
Draining the rest of my cosmo, I glance around for the waitress. Where the hell is she? I spot her and wave wildly, but she either doesn’t see me or is ignoring me. I could go to the bar, but that would leave our table unoccupied, and someone would steal it in about two seconds. So I tip the glass back to let a piece of ice slide into my mouth, sucking the cranberry juice and vodka from it before chewing.
My phone dings, and I reach into my leather purse to pull it out, seeing a text from my mother.
Mom: I just got a message on that medical chart app you put on my phone. The doctor wants me to come in for a follow-up on Wednesday.
Me: I’ll go with you.
Mom: You don’t have to. You just started your job at the bakery.
Me: I’m going. It will be fine.
I replace my phone and shake my head. She’s so damn stubborn. Mom has been having some digestive issues for a couple months now, but she’s been self-treating with antacids. I finally got her to go to the doctor when her eyes began to look a little yellow.
“Hey, Red.”
I look up to see a blond guy standing beside my table. He appears to be about my height, which is pretty short for a man since I’m five five.
“Red. Good one,” I drawl with all the sarcasm. “Never heard that before.”
He grins. The guy isn’t bad looking, but he has a large mole shaped like a duck on the right side of his forehead. I would normally think that’s interesting, but I’m already annoyed by him calling me Red. For the record, I despise that nickname with a passion.
He apparently misses my tone because he looks positively delighted. “Really? I took one look at your hair, and it just came to me.” The man preens like he’s just won an Olympic medal.
“You’re obviously some kind of creative nicknaming savant,” I tell him, but he misses that heavy dose of sarcasm as well.
“I do what I can.” He props an elbow on my table and leans into my space. His breath smells like stale beer. “Hey, we should dance.”
“No, I’m good, but thank you,” I say with as much politeness as I can muster. It takes a lot of nerve to come up to a stranger, so I’m giving him a little leeway.
His eyes drop to my chest, and I glance down as well to verify I haven’t had a nip slip or something. Nope. He’s just being creepy.
“I’m friends with the owner of this club,” he tells my boobs. Oh jeez, he’s one of thoseI know the ownerguys who thinks that will impress a woman. When he runs his fingers up my bare arm, I begin to get aggravated.
