Page 10 of Boyfriend of the Hour
“I—” He took a step backward. “You?—”
“Sorry,” I blurted. “I was, um, going for your cheek. You know, like some men ask for a kiss on the cheek in repayment for things?”
“Some men…” Mr. Chocolate Eyes drifted off, clearly still stunned, though his shoulders relaxed a bit. “People pay back favors in kisses?”
“Sure,” I said as I twirled a bit of hair around my finger. “My grandfather had me do it all the time when he was alive.”
Now I was comparing my knight in shining blue button-down to a grandpa. Smooth.
Mr. Chocolate Eyes seemed to meditate on that for a moment. “Well, then, I suppose I owe you one now.”
“A kiss?”
I’m not going to lie. At the idea ofkissinghim, every cell in my body basically jumped up and screamed, “Encore!”
“No. You bought me a drink. I helped you with those men. You gave me a…whatever that was. Now it’s my turn to owe you, according to your calculations.”
Math joke. I knew he was smart. A big, delicious, super-stacked nerd.
Eyes still glued to mine, he picked up the drink I’d just set in front of him and poured every bit of it directly down his throat.
“Jesus,” I said. “Savor it, why don’t you? That’s an eighteen-year-old scotch.”
When he set the glass back down, his eyes were watering, and his voice was hoarse as he spoke. “It is much better than the other one.”
Fuck it, I thought. I had some bravado left in here somewhere. Might as well put it to good use.
“I get off in thirty minutes,” I said quickly. “Do you, um, want to go somewhere? Get to know each other better?”
I traced a fingertip across the bar provocatively, then leaned over, giving him the good solid view down my shirt that the previous investment dicks had been hoping for earlier.
But those chocolate eyes didn’t move an inch. Instead, he offered a shy, sweet not-quite-smile that suddenly made the dim lounge feel very, very bright.
“It’s all right.” He pushed his glasses up his nose and stood. “I’ll pay you back another time.”
I watched as he dropped a couple of bills next to his empty glass, then turned to leave.
Lord, he looked almost as good walking away as approaching. The man had an ass that wouldn’t quit. Like two scoops of ice cream molded specifically for my hands to grab.
“Wait.” The word jumped out of my throat.
Mr. Chocolate Eyes turned. “Yes?”
“What’s your name?”
One brown brow lifted. “My name?”
I dug deep and unearthed the smile that I delivered toanyman when I wanted something.
The stranger swallowed but seemed otherwise unmoved.
Damn.
“Yeah,” I said. “Your name. I like to know the names of people who owe me something. I’m Joni.”
I held out a hand. But instead of accepting it, he put two fingers on the crisp hundred-dollar bills on the bar and pushed them toward me—at least twice what was necessary for the one shitty drink he’d ordered and the much better one I’d bought him.
“My name is Nathan.”
