Page 34 of The Love Losers

He’s a man of action, so I’m not surprised when he starts cleaning the bar. It’s probably the kind of task that would never end if you really let yourself dig into it, but I join him, sticking soiled glasses into the dishwasher. I steal glances at him while I work, taking in his dark hair, his gray eyes, and the elegant line of his jaw. He’s pleasant to look at, to watch, and being close to him makes me notice more of the little details. It’s those small details that make the man, I decide. His dimples, which only make an appearance when they’re earned, his unfeasibly long lashes, beneath stern, well-shaped brows. That hair, so thick and well cut, which might be wild if only it were allowed.

“Seems to me there’s a rule-breaker lurking inside of you,” I finally say, thinking about what he told me the other day about throwing parties at that big estate. I like the thought of Anthony, out of control. Anthony, letting himself be free. Anthony, crazy and driven there byme. “I’m trying to figure out how that squares with you being a man of duty.”

He stops what he’s doing and glances at me. His mouth inches up, revealing one of those dimples. I feel a deep undercurrent of pleasure that he gave to me what he hasn’t given to anyone else tonight. “It doesn’t. That’s probably why I’m so messed up.”

I position another glass in the dishwasher and shut it, leaning my hip against the bar. “So what do you think of bartending?”

“What do you think?” His lips twist with the question.

“That you don’t like being the center of attention.”

“Not particularly, no,” he says with a low laugh, abandoning the thankless pursuit of making this place clean. “Especially not in this county.”

“Because of your mother.”

“Because of my family. Being my father’s son comes with certain expectations. I’ve never been good at meeting them.”

“And he was another crowd pleaser.”

His expression turns bitter as he glances back down at the bar, giving it another pass with the cloth. “Yes. Everything was performative for him, and if it wasn’t, he didn’t care to do it. One time he was giving Emma and me this rousing speech about how important it was to be kind in a world where people mistreated each other. We were in this public room at a museum, and as soon as the other guests left, he cut himself off mid-sentence.”

“No offense.” I lift my hands. “I know people like to talk well of the dead, but he sounds like he was a dick.”

His eyes smile at me. “I hope I’ll never be a man who’s offended by the truth. What do you say we get out of here before Dom tries to feed us edibles?”

“Are you sure, Rule Breaker?” I ask, teasing him. Maybe testing him too.

“Quite. I have a firm policy of taking only one psychedelic trip per year, and your roommate already brought me on one.”

I grin at that and grab my purse up off the floor, where it’s been sitting next to a pile of Dom’s crap.

Then I pause and grab a handful of theCover Your Nutcondoms from the bowl on the counter, mostly because I want to watch Anthony Rosings Smith blush. “Waste not, want not,” I say, pretending to be casual about it.

He watches me, lips parted, and then his expression firms.

“Don’t you want any?” I ask, goading him, although I couldn’t say why. It would be a bad idea for me to take him hometonight. He may not have asked Leigh to marry him yet, but he does need a wife. According to what the others have told me, his mother has already been calling everyone up to inform them that the New Year’s party is again a wedding.

You could marry him,I hear Joy saying.You should.

Anthony’s eyes hold mine, but then he lifts his eyebrows as his gaze flicks to my purse. “No, the normal kind aren’t big enough,” he finally says before heading for the door.

Holy shit. I’m not entirely sure he’s not fucking with me, but even if heisfucking with me…

Well, it’s hot.

I follow him out of the bar, grabbing our coats on the way out. I’m grateful that it’s still freezing outside, because I’m the one with red cheeks. Once the door clicks shut behind me, Anthony turns around, and I see a blaze of heat in his eyes before it’s banked.

I swallow, suddenly unsure of myself, and hand him his coat. He silently pulls it on, while I do the same with mine—a reverse strip tease that’s more loaded than if we’d actually been taking off our clothes.

Which no one would probably know from what I say next, each word emerging in a puff of white air. “Were you messing with me, or is that true?”

His lips lift slightly. “Both. Now, would you like a ride home, or did you drive here?”

“I drove,” I say, regretting it. Also not regretting it, because I don’t know what’s happening here, but I don’t want to run down this road without having any idea where it ends. I’ve done that too many times, with too many men. It always feels exhilarating in the beginning, but it ends with blistered feet and a splintered heart.

Anthony needs to get married, and I can’t be the woman he marries.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” he says—a polite statement, but I can tell he’ll brook no objections. Hewillwalk me to my car and see me to safety, dammit, and nothing and no one will convince him otherwise.

---