It was my favorite day of the week, but still a long one.
What did Wesley look like, anyway? I would’ve seen him if I’d been able to go to the funeral. By the time I’d found out about Sam’s sudden death, though, he’d been gone and buried. There had to be a picture of his boy online. Just as I pulled out my phone to do a search, someone settled onto the barstool next to me.
“Macallan 18.”
The deep voice resonated through my bones. I almost groaned. He had the rumble of a rugged man, a primal mating call in my opinion. Admittedly, my last few dates had put the “boys” in fanboys, not men who knew their way around a woman.
I peeked at him from the corner of my eye. My fingers tightened around the stem of my glass.
Holy hotness, Batman! He reminded me of one of my favorite superheroes. Jet-black hair, sky-blue eyes nearly glowing under the club lights, wide shoulders. If he wore a cape and had a large S on his shirt, I’d sit on his face. I’d still consider it, given his charcoal slacks and white-striped shirt, which likely had been cinched by a tie all day. The first two buttons were undone and his sleeves were rolled up. What was that style called? Industrial hot-as-hell businessman.
“What’s your poison?”
I shot him a surprised glance. He gestured to my already half-empty glass.
What had the bartender said it was? “I think it’s named after some pop star.”
He chuckled with genuine humor. “Are you here with the bachelorette party?”
When hell froze over. “No.”
The bartender leaned over the counter to hand him his drink. “The lady said she was looking for the owner.”
Stay out of it, dude. Wait, he knew the total package next to me? Maybe the new arrival also knew the owner. “Do you know Mr. Robson?”
His eyes crinkled with his smile. Even the man’s teeth were perfect. “Why would you want to find him? I’ve heard he’s an ass.”
I rolled my eyes. “Tell me about it.”
Hotness savored a long sip of his…whatever a Macallan was. “You’ve gotta tell me what he did to you.”
The pink bangs that framed my face dropped into my eyes. I feathered them away. His gaze traced from my hand to my dual ponytails, the plain brown hair streaked with pink. Instead of blond highlights, or lowlights, or whatever stylish women did, I’d chosen pink—because it was fun and girly. One of the few splurges I allowed myself.
My hair often drew attention, not always the flattering kind. But I enjoyed his. “He’s shutting down my store. Tearing down the whole damn building. ‘Upgrading.’” I gave the last word air quotes.
His right eye twitched and he stared at me for a heartbeat. Humor drained from his expression and his gaze narrowed slightly.
My heart rate increased at being the object of such scrutiny. I wanted more, but I also felt like I’d done something wrong.
Finally, a grin curled his full lips. “That bastard.” He flagged the bartender. “The lady would like another glass.”
If he was going to sit next to me, then yes, I would like another glass. Unless he wanted to do more than sit. Because getting it on with a sexy stranger would take the sting out of having to purchase this outfit just to get close to Wesley-fucking-Robson.
But first, the standard wedding ring check. Not always a reliable sign, but the tan line of a missing ring cut things off immediately.
His left hand was wrapped around the wide glass of his whiskey. No white line.
Good start.
He turned to me. “The name’s Sam.”
“Mara. I lost a good friend named Sam.” Way to go. A hot guy starts talking to you and you bring up your dead friend.
An unreadable expression flickered over his face. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He paused and his expression lightened. “Closing your store, huh?”
I swiveled in my seat. The position landed my crossed legs between his manspread. An intimate position, and not one I wanted to leave. “Yeah, my store. I was good friends with this amazing man who supported my business and gave me sound investment advice. He’s who I leased the building from.” I blinked back the sting of tears. “But his son is tearing it all down and throwing up some…” I couldn’t come up with any words that weren’t foul, so I went with it. “Fancy shit.”
The corner of his mouth lifted, and holy X-wing, had his eyes just sparkled? “Is that the technical term?”
“I’m the wrong person to ask.” I waved my hand at the crowd on the dance floor. “You’d have to ask one of them.”
His expression danced with amusement. “Not your crowd, I take it.”
“God, no.” I shook my head, my ponytails swinging. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be insulting. I had to grow up fast and it didn’t leave me time for any of this.”
The scorching heat in his gaze as it wandered down my body and back up robbed me of breath. His attention didn’t switch to another woman, like the bouncer’s had. Blatant interest was written all over his face. I took a gulp of my fresh glass of wine.
His hand brushed my leg. “If it’s not your crowd, why don’t we go someplace else?” His gaze held mine as he took another sip.
Yes, please! My shoulders hunched. “Sorry, I’m on asshole patrol.”
Sam almost spit his drink back out. He swallowed hard and chuckled. “Well then. Let’s hit the dance floor and watch for assholes.”
Before I lost my nerve, I drained the rest of my wine and hopped up. The world spun off-kilter. A strong hand steadied me at my waist.
I held my hand to my forehead. “I think I
