“Ask you,” I say to him, doing my best to ignore the way his stare has my pulse racing. “Nobody asked you.”
A grin pulls at his full lips. “That’s fair.”
I smile back at him and spin around on the stool, facing the bar. The stranger copies my movements, and our elbows brush during the movement.
He doesn’t miss the contact either, glancing down at where we touched before his eyes flit to mine again.
I’m embarrassed by the heat flowing through me.
I’m ridiculous. It’s a damn elbow—but it’s beenthatlong since I’ve had any physical contact from an attractive man.
Pity.
He lifts his hand, flagging down the bartender, and it draws my attention. His hand is big, covered in small scratches, and his forearms are corded with muscle. A dark blue short-sleeved shirt stretches across his body when he moves. It’s tight, but not in aHey, look at how much time I spend in the gymkind of tight. Besides, I have a feeling his build isn’t from time spent in the gym, but rather from whatever it is he does for a living.
The bartender saunters our way.
My lips pinch together in annoyance because he couldn’t be bothered when I wanted a drink.
“Your usual?” he asks the stranger, never mind that I was here first.
I’m about to let him know he forgot about me when the mysterious man next to me speaks.
“Please, and whatever she’s having.”
I’m not dumb enough to argue about a free drink after the day—hell, weeks—I’ve had.
“I’ll have a whiskey sour, light on the simple syrup,” I tell the bartender. “I’d like to taste thetop-shelfbourbon, please.”
He grins, then nods and whirls around to grab our drinks.
“So we’re clear,” I say to the man next to me, “just because I’m letting you buy me a drink, it doesn’t mean anything. I’m not going home with you.”
He nods, fighting a grin. “Duly noted.”
I tuck my lips together, combatting my own smile.
We sit together in silence. It’s not comfortable, but it’s notuncomfortable either.
I like having him here next to me despite not knowing him.
“I tried flagging him down twice, you know,” I say, breaking the quiet.
“Don’t hold it against him. Donny’s a good guy. He just gets distracted sometimes.” The stranger tips his head toward the other end of the bar. “Especially when his partner stops by.”
I lean forward to get a glimpse. A man who looks strikingly like Taye Diggs, so much I half expect him to start singing about my rent, sits at the other end, chin resting in his hand. He’s watching the bartender work with lustful eyes, and I’m jealous all over again.
“Is this some sort of couples bar?”
“Usually? No.” He twists his neck around, looking at the room again. “I’m not sure what’s in the air tonight.”
“Do I detect disdain in your voice?”
He chuckles. “That obvious?”
“Yes. That and your opening comment really gave it away.”
Donny pivots our way, drinks in his hands.