“Hey,” she replies.
“Is it just you two tonight?” he asks, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms.
He could model for Wrangler. Or Cinch. Or any brand, of any kind.
Jo nods, glancing over at me. I purse my lips, wishing she hadn’t answered.
Duke has shamelessly flirted with me for the past two years since Rosie and I became friends, even when I wasn’t divorced yet. He terrifies me to my very core because if Matt ever found out, only God knows how he would react. My stomach feels queasy when I think about it. I’ve forgottenhow to speak to men even platonically because for the past five years, I haven’t allowed myself to, for my own safety.
But Duke flirts with everyone. He’s a fuckboy. As far as I know, he’s never been in a committed relationship. Even though he’s dripping in sex appeal and is my physical type down to a fucking T, I would never mess around with Duke Redford. My heart is already black and blue.
I went on one date with his older brother Sterling, who was a complete sweetheart. It was during the earlier days of my separation from Matt, and even though I had no reason to, I felt wrong for going on a date. I told him I wasn’t ready to be dating, and he was respectful and understanding.
Now that the divorce has officially been finalized, Duke feels even more dangerous to interact with than he did before. His level of attractiveness is ungodly. From his dark hair to the hypnotic blue eyes, muscular shoulders, callous roper hands, and sensual smile, he makes me and every other woman between the ages of eighteen and eighty weak in the knees. Even his voice drips with sensual undertones, like a velvet caress.
And I can’t be weak in the knees right now for a playboy who’s four years younger than me.
I’m a recently divorced single mom. I have shit to do, two hungry mouths to feed, and a truckload of trauma that a fun-loving guy like the youngest Redford brother wouldn’t have a clue what to do with.
Aside from this rare night of fun with Jo, I usually work as a bartender at Lucky’s Pub in Elmott when my boys are with their dad.
“Well, nice chatting with you, but we have?—”
“Let me buy you a drink,” he interrupts, eyes steady on me, burning my skin.
I narrow my gaze at him. “We’re not going home with you, either of us.”
“I know that.” He claps a hand against his chest, feigning innocence.
“I’m closed for business. Jo has a boyfriend.”
He nods. “Cool. What are y’all drinking?” He starts turning back toward the bar. “Let’s just hang out, as friends.”
I roll my eyes.
As if Duke has ever met a female he wasn’t related to who he didn’t want to sleep with.
“I didn’t say?—”
“Come on, Mamas. One drink. I promise not to flirt with you.” He winks, stepping closer to me.
I instinctively step back, heat prickling my skin. I turn to Jo. She shrugs, clearly indifferent about it. I wish she would back me up.
With a final eye roll to let him know I’m unaffected by his clear flirtation and panty-dropping charm, I start walking back toward the bar. I can feel him a step behind me. When I turn toward where Jo and I were parked before, he gently touches my waist to guide me to a table a few yards to the left.
That isn’t hot. Stop it.
The heat of his fingers seeps through my thin shirt, and I try to control my breathing. Spending time around Duke still feels dangerous, like my body doesn’t know that Matt and I are divorced and he’s not here right now.
Duke’s hand moves away from my waist to pull out thewooden chair for me. I exhale, taking the seat. He pulls Jo’s chair out too.
“So, ladies, what are we feeling? Margaritas, green tea shots? What’s the vibe?” He grips the back of his chair, drumming his fingers over it in a way that makes my head spin, wondering what those fingers feel like.
This is bad. This is very bad.
I look at Jo. Her eyes drift from mine to his, then back to mine.
“Your call,” I say.
