Page 8 of Hard to Love

But my hopes are dashed before they can really get started when a woman walks up and plants a kiss on his lips.

We all groan and then start our search anew. Mr. One-night Only has to be here somewhere. No complications. Great sex. I mean, I can hope that’s the case—for my sake at least.

Although, I guess that’s not necessarily required to finish the game.

STEVIE

IT’S SLOW GOING, BUT WE make up for it by drinking more alcohol and moving locations. A nightclub. Another bar. Jumping on the go-go dancers’ platforms and dancing there until we were asked to leave.

The night wears thin, the alcohol buzzes through our veins, and the prospects for my very picky self, seem even thinner.

Normally I’d be thrilled to have an out on this dare . . . but if it means losing to them, not a chance in hell.

“You’d think of all the cities in the world that this would be the one where we’d have the best luck, but . . .” Vivi’s words fade off and then her low, rich hum is a taunt all in itself, begging us to turn and look to where her attention is focused.

Yes.

That’s the first thought that comes to mind when I lay my eyes on the man who just entered the bar area.

He’s tall with dark hair and broad shoulders. He wears an expensive dress shirt that’s unbuttoned at the collar with his shirtsleeves rolled up to showcase taut forearms and what looks to be a Rolex.

He’s a man who knows he looks good and owns it. A man who commands attention when he walks into a room and he definitely has mine.

“Hello, gorgeous,” Jordan murmurs around her straw.

He nonchalantly surveys the room as if he’s looking to see if there’s anyone worthy of his time.

Apparently, I am because when he looks in our direction, his eyes find and then remain on mine. I don’t flinch, don’t look away. My expression doesn’t even reflect the thrill that shoots through me because the man who caught my eye might be interested in me as well.

Our gazes hold. His eyes narrow as he unabashedly takes me in, assesses, approves. Then when I assume he likes what he sees, a ghost of a smile—arrogance and sex appeal, a man who knows he’s good-looking—is offered.

It’s embarrassing that his smirk alone has me wanting him.

Embarrassing but it’s true.

“Your move, Stevie,” Vivi murmurs.

My move.

With a deep breath, I push away from the bar and stride across the room—maybe with a little extra swing to my hips—to approach him.

I’m too buzzed to give the ramifications of my actions too much thought. Too lost in the challenge, and reclaiming some of my independence, to think of all the things my dad had drilled into my head that would have scared me off doing something like this before. The what if he’s crazy? The what if he’s a plant to get an exclusive on me? The what if he’s a serial killer?

But isn’t that why I’m here? Why I’m even doing this—besides of course what I like about him—to block out everything that’s just too much. Responsibility. Duty. Grief. Simply being Stevie Lancaster and all the trappings that come with her.

“Hi,” I breathe, unable to take my eyes off him. He’s even more gorgeous up close.

“Hello yourself,” he murmurs as he leans an elbow against a table and makes no qualms about taking everything about me in. His hazel eyes framed by thick lashes run the length of my body and when they come back up to meet my eyes, that effortless smile is an aphrodisiac all itself.

“I’m Scarlett,” I say and hold a hand out to him, refusing to break his stare.

“Scarlett whose name isn’t really Scarlett,” he says and shakes my hand. “It’s a most unexpected pleasure to meet you. I’m Rhett.”

“Rhett, huh?” My lips quirk into a smile. A man who knows classic movies and knows how to play this game. Unexpected but more than welcome. My hand remains in his longer than it should, and I can’t say that I mind. “Nice to meet you too.”

“Would you like a drink?” he asks placing his hand on the small of my back and leading me to the bar before I can respond.

“Sure. Yes.” What in the hell am I doing? I take the seat he offers and welcome the chance to talk rather than head straight upstairs. Especially when Vivi and Jordan are standing in view just over his shoulder where I can see them watching us while silently giving me fist pumps. “What’ll you have?” I ask.