“He didn’t. Ryan threw me under the bus. And then Matt asked if I’d go out with him to the Red Fern and…” Courtney ended the sentence with a long sigh. “You know I have a thing about the Red Fern, right?”
Arwen knew, and Matt’s invitation struck her as odd somehow. “So you said yes?”
Courtney refused to make eye contact. “You were the one who started the evening off talking about romance. When was the last time someone took you to a restaurant with white tablecloths?”
“Point taken. But you know he’s a Hook-up Artist, right? They always take women to restaurants with white tablecloths.”
Courtney propped her chin on her hand. “You’re right. I’m an idiot.” She drew circles on the table with her index finger. “Is he looking at me…? No wait, don’t tell me. I’m not going to behave like a middle school kid.”
Arwen leaned forward and stilled Courtney’s hand. “Look, Court, earlier tonight you said you were tired of waiting for Mr. Right. So don’t wait for him. Go out with Matt, have a good time, and keep your expectations low.”
“I guess that would be better than breaking off the date, going to the shelter, and adopting a cat, huh?”
“I don’t know if it’s better or worse, to tell you the truth. It’s just what it is. We are living in the twenty-first century, we have sexual freedom, and that requires a certain amount of sacrifice.”
“That sounds like a hook line for a song.”
Arwen smiled and nodded. “Yeah kind of.”
“Look, I need to go. It’s like I can feel him looking at me, you know? And I don’t want to give him the satisfaction.”
“It’s okay. You go, and I’ll mosey over to the bar and talk to him. We’re work colleagues now. Maybe I can winnow out some of his secrets for you.”
“Okay, call me tomorrow.” Courtney pulled a twenty out of her wallet and handed it to Arwen to cover her drinks. Then she got up and sailed past the men at the bar as if she were a mighty ocean liner calmly plowing through unseen depths, deadly currents, and stormy seas. She didn’t look at them or acknowledge them in any way.
Arwen picked up her nearly empty margarita glass and took it to the bar, hopping up on the stool right beside Matt. She waved the glass at Rory, who gave her a heart stopping smile that melted her insides. She quickly glanced away. Maybe she and Courtney needed to find some other bar. All of the men at the Jaybird needed to have big yellow danger signs hung around their necks.
“Did she send you over here to spy on me?” Matt turned on his bar stool with a raised eyebrow.
“Among other things.” She hooked her toes under the stool’s rung and tried hard not to watch Rory, down the bar, making her margarita.
“What other things?”
“Look, Courtney is my best friend. She’s had her heart broken a zillion times. So don’t go there. I mean it. You and I have to work together, and if you screw around with her, I will find all sorts of ways to make your life miserable.” She clutched the edge of the bar as her pulse spiked. Matthew Lyndon could easily get her fired from LL&K. But Arwen didn’t think Matthew was a prick, not after seeing his reaction to last night’s meeting of the Dogwood Estates Tenants Association. Those people had moved him, and Arwen had a feeling he had a heart beating somewhere inside that impressively wide chest of his.
“I have no intention of screwing around with her,” he said.
“Really?” This came from Ryan, who leaned toward Matt with his right elbow planted on the bar.
Matt turned toward Ryan. “Look, man, if you and Courtney have something going on, just say so. I mean, you made it sound like you didn’t have any problem with me taking her out on Thursday.”
“I don’t have any problem with you taking her out, and I don’t have anything going on with her. But I share Arwen’s view. If you mess with her, you can expect to hear from me.”
“How exactly do you define the word ‘mess’?” Matt’s voice sounded unworried, but Arwen noted a slight tightening in his shoulders. Men. They had more testosterone than was necessary, in her opinion.
“If, for example,” Ryan said in a voice like an iron fist in a velvet glove, “you were to use her to win a bet, for example.”
Matt turned away from Ryan and studied the wall of liquor bottles behind the bar, lit up with multicolored twinkle lights. After a long moment, he drew in a deep breath and spoke again in a firm voice. “I have never used a woman.” He turned and met Ryan’s stare.
“Good. Don’t start now.” Ryan stood up and threw a few dollars down on the bar to cover his Coke. He turned and strolled away, shoulders as straight as a marine on parade.
“So, does this mean Courtney knows about my bet with Brandon?” He glanced at Arwen out of the corner of his eye.
“She might.”
He nodded and stood up too, leaving an unfinished beer on the bar. “See you at the office tomorrow,” he said, before heading toward the Jaybird’s front door.
A moment later, Rory returned with her second margarita. “Ah, it looks like you’re drinking alone.” He gently placed the drink before her, and Arwen spent a sensuous moment studying the backs of his broad, brown hands. She lifted her head and met his bold blue eyes. Heat prickled her skin as that gaze rubbed up against her erogenous zones. Her bones started to dissolve.
“Want to tell me your troubles?” His voice was as mellow as Irish whiskey and twice as potent. “I’m a good listener.”
Yes, he was. And that made him more dangerous than any of the other men in this bar. She could fall hopelessly in love with someone who listened—truly listened—to her songs.
She picked
