Page 2 of So Close

She didn’t know the middle-aged waitress crouched in the midst of broken china and glasses, but she could identify with her forlorn expression. She squatted and the waitress flashed her a panicky expression. “It’s only my third night.”

“Don’t stress, hon.” Auburn centered the tray between them and began restacking intact plates and gathering the biggest shards. “I know it sucks. But Johann’s super nice. He won’t get mad.”

“Thank you,” the waitress whispered. She grabbed a napkin and began scooping up the spilled food. “And thanks for helping me clean up.”

Auburn smiled. “No problem.”

Once the tray was reloaded, the waitress thanked Auburn again, and she headed back to her seat at the bar.

“Nice of you,” Ulysses said, wiping down her spot.

Auburn blushed. “I just know how it feels.”

“Yeah. Well, not everyone would do that.” He set a Bob’s cardboard coaster on the counter. “What can I get you?”

“Peach on the Beach. Two, actually. One for me, one for Kee.”

“On me,” a voice pronounced behind her.

She turned to find the hottie. Up close, he smelled unbelievably good—and familiar. Expensive, male, and hyper-competent. Did they put that in a bottle? Apparently so. Plus, she had a love-hate relationship with his bossy self-confidence. Her body loved it and her brain hated it. For good reason, she reminded herself.Been there, done that, have the scars.

“It’s the twenty-first century, dude,” she said. “I think what you meant is, ‘Can I buy that drink for you?’”

His slate-gray eyes met hers. “No. I meant, ‘The drinks are on me.’”

Really? The size of the balls on this one. She should have guessed. No one looked that good in a suit without being an arrogant prick. Or maybe that was just her post-Patrick trauma talking.

She could feel Ulysses eyeing them both. The glass thunked down harder than usual on the bar’s surface. Ulysses didn’t approve of the guy’s presumptuousness any more than she did.

“Seriously? Whoareyou?” she demanded.

“Trey Xavier. And you are?” His voice was smooth, low, and gorgeous. If it were a drink, she’d order that any day of the week. Plus the purr of it had drawn her eyes to his mouth, which was surprisingly full and soft-looking, considering the rest of him seemed to have been chipped out of a mountain.

But she was done with men who thought they knew what was best for her. What she wanted.

So why were her uncooperative girl parts celebrating him? They’d obviously already forgotten the lesson of Patrick.

Those gray eyes. They wereintense. Like, he wouldn’t take them off her face. He had that alpha male stillness in his features that told her he’d wait forever without filling the empty space with words. And, oh, my God, he was going to devour her with that slate gaze in the meantime. It had been more than six months since she’d had sex with anything other than her favorite toys, and this guy was all sex.

And, oh, he was waiting for her to say something. Right. Her name. What was that again?

She was seven-eighths of the way to remembering and three-quarters of the way to agreeing to whatever he proposed next. Her girl parts knew it and began partying their approval. Getting ready to soak up the whole sensory experience of him, the feel of that stubble on his jaw, which had to be the perfect contrast with the heat and softness of his mouth; the way his scent would concentrate where—

Something clicked in the depths of her brain, and she realized why he smelled so familiar. And the spell broke, just like that. Cracked liked one of those plates the waitress had dropped moments earlier.

“Your cologne costs a thousand dollars a bottle.” The words popped out, truth served up cold.

His eyes opened slightly wider. Barely a flinch, but enough to let her know she’d surprised him.

“Asshole ex,” she explained. “He wears that stuff. And here’s the thing. My ex wasn’t the kind of experience I want to repeat. Maybe you guys have nothing more in common than arrogant come-ons and a penchant for suits that cost more than my car, but I really can’t chance it. I’m leaving this bar with my sister. Who’s standing right behind you, if you wouldn’t mind stepping aside to make room for her—?”

His expression hardly changed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a leather case and withdrew a business card that he set on the bar beside her freshly poured drink. “I’m staying at Cape House tonight,” he murmured. The card was beautiful and obviously expensive. Linen cream. Deeply embossed gold text. For all she knew itwasgold.

Something shifted in her low belly.Damn you, girl parts and your taste for alpha men and expensive things.

She left the card where it was on the bar.

“That’s my brother’s hotel.”

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