Reid: No guarantees. I might not be her type.
Charley: Trust me, you’re her type.
And that was exactly what I was afraid of. Because I had started to think she was my type, too.
Mikey, the bouncer who’dworked here for years, smirked as he held the door open, gesturing toward the side of the temporary wall where a group of men loitered next to the bar. “Have fun. Try to leave some numbers for the rest of them, charmer.”
“Just here as a favor,” I whispered, patting him on the chest as I passed.
“Charley might be persuasive, but we both know why you’re here. Or should I saywhoyou’re here for?” The laughter that followed was obnoxious.
“Not you too,” I groaned, hoping I hadn’t been that blatant with my observations of a certain redhead.
“I get paid to watch people all night, and you haven’t exactly been subtle the last few weeks. I’m going to make an educated guess it’s because you haven’t been laid in a while. At least not by anyone drinking here. Because I’ve seen you turning away tail left and right.”
“Does everyone think I’m a slut?” I growled, hating that everyone in my life seemed to know way too much about my sex life.
“Nah, you’re young and you’re not tied down yet, but you kind of have a reputation around here. At least you did.”
“Maybe tonight will change that.”
“Maybe,” he laughed, slapping me on the shoulder. “I hope you get what you came here for. She needs someone fun who won’t take advantage of her. Which you’re not going to do, right?”
“Fuck, why in the fuck does everyone think I’m going to take advantage of her? You think I enjoy feeling like this?”
“Dude, you gotta get a hold of yourself before you sit down in that chair.” He nodded toward tables lining the temporary wallswith fourteen chairs waiting for the fourteen victims—orbachelors,as Charley kept calling them. Lowering his voice, he continued. “Because those college boys came to play, so if you want a chance, you’ve gotta take it.”
Before I could respond, Charley noticed me lingering by the door and dragged me away, pressing a glass into my hand before pushing me toward the chair at the table with a sign taped to the back with a number seven printed on it.
“Lucky number seven, Reid. Come with me.”
Sniffing, I realized she’d given me water instead of vodka, but I probably needed to keep a clear head for the next few hours, anyway.
“I would give you a shot for luck, but this is a dry event.” She aimed me toward the table, picking up a notebook and pressing it into my hand. “This is to take notes. Please take this seriously. I know you’re saving my ass here, but I think this could be good for you too.”
Nodding, I flipped through the book, noting that it was unlined, which was good for me because I had a tendency to doodle when my attention waned during situations with limited visual stimulation.
That was part of why I’d gravitated to tattooing. Drawing had always had a calming effect and my attention to visual projects was much better than any other activity. And since it was something I could listen to music while doing, it was a perfect fit.
“I’m gonna get this show on the road. Just breathe and focus on your objective for the night.”
Sighing, I looked down at her. “Char, if she doesn’t want me like I am, then why is she going to want me two weeks from now after she’s been lied to?”
She gripped the front of my shirt, pulling me down until our noses were practically touching. “Listen here, shit for brains. She likes you, but she’s scared of you. So, you’re going to convince her to give you her number and then you’re going to show her who you are with your pants on, and at the end of two weeks, she’s goingto have enough confidence to think she can handle someone like you. And then you’re going to rock her world and treat her like a princess. Because deep down, underneath all that testosterone, we both know you want to settle down, and who better to do it with than a woman who is loyal and funny and has the potential to be the love of your life if you’dget out of your own damn way.”
Charley released her grip on my shirt, smoothing down the wrinkles she caused with her palm. “Are we clear?”
“Crystal,” I murmured, smiling when I realized that my best friend really ended up with his perfect match, and that she was right…maybe it was time for me to find mine.
Reid
“So, he was like,tall and handsome and built, like covered in tattoos with a motorcycle…”
Bachelorette number five was not Haz. And while she was describing me to a T, her voice really grated on my nerves.
“And like he just couldn’t understand that I’d spent too much money on my extensions to cover it with a helmet and risk the wind pulling one loose. So, I like insisted he drive his car, and it totally didn’t match his personality. He drove a freaking used Mazda 3, and it didn’t even have like tinted windows or anything. It was like totally boring.”
And she was clearly superficial as hell. I’d asked her about her ideal type of man, and she went on some rant about her ex-boyfriend. She hadn’t stopped talking since and every other word out of her mouth waslike.