Page 3 of Wingwoman
She sipped her drink as she scanned the room over my shoulder. “Oh wow,” she said. “That guy, over there, with the cowboy hat.” Using her index finger, she pointed to the back corner.
Inwardly I cringed.Pointingwas never a good idea.
“Okay,” I said patiently. “Watch how I do this.” I grabbed my cell phone, pretending to be busy checking a text message. Then as I was facing the other way, I flicked my eyes up to the back corner booth where she had pointed.
I was momentarily paralyzed by the man I saw. He was sitting, bent over a half-empty tumbler of scotch. Muscles pushed against the 600-thread count white, button-down shirt he wore. One flex in the right direction could tear that shirt in half if he wanted. His dark hair peeked out the back of a dark brown cowboy hat and was long enough to touch the collar of his crisp shirt, but still managed to look perfectly placed. A spray of stubble peppered his jawline and tattoos peeked out of the rolled up sleeves of his shirt.
Wow. Just… wow.
I lifted my gaze to his and noticed him staring right back at me. A smirk curved his full lips and he lifted his glass in my direction. He looked familiar. Very familiar.
Shit.I jerked back around, facing Maggie who looked at me skeptically. “That’show you subtly look at someone?”
Heat rushed to my cheeks and I cleared my throat. “Uh… no. I got, um, sidetracked.”
She smirked, peeking around my shoulder at the man once again. “Can’t say I blame you. God, those dimples.”
My face flushed and I could practically feel the heat creeping up my chest to my cheeks. “Does he interest you? He could easily be our first target.”Please say no, please say no…
I had never before had to professionally wingwoman for a guy I was so intensely attracted to. But if I had to, I would. Maggie was the priority here. Now I just had to convince my vagina of that.
Shaking her head, Maggie gave me a knowing smile. “He’s not really my type. Although, the man he’s sitting with? Yes, please.”
I stole another glance over my shoulder, spotting another handsome man standing up and leaving. He was slightly shorter, and a little leaner, but no less sexy. Texas really knew how to raise ‘em, didn’t they?
Unfortunately, the second man was leaving.
Bummer. But at least I got a sense of Maggie’s type.
Her gaze drifted once more over my shoulder in his direction and her eyes widened. “Oh my god,” Maggie hissed. “Look.” She pointed with her pinky finger as she brought her drink to her lips. “There are random girls taking selfies with him!”
Sure enough, three different women surrounded Cowboy Hat Man, pressing their cheeks to his as they snapped a picture from arm’s length. An immediate visceral reaction overtook my body and my spine straightened, going rigid at the sight. Was he famous?
My lady boner vanished. I wouldnotdate another famous guy. Hell no. Never again.
I shook my head and rolled my eyes at the way the girls twirled their hair, pushing their boobs together with their arms as they chatted with him.
I mean… sure. That could potentially work and get the man in bed with you, but where was the nuance? The mystery? You could walk up to just about any man in this bar, grab him by the back of the neck and say, ‘Want to go fuck?’ and he would have his pants down around his ankles, waddling after you before you could pay the bill.
“Wait,” Maggie said. Then she went to work on her phone before her jaw dropped and her gaze darted back to the man. “That’s Josh Gabriel. I knew I recognized him!”
I flipped through all the celebrity gossip I had in my brain—which admittedly wasn’t much – and I came up empty. He looked familiar, but that name meant nothing to me. “Who?”
Her jaw dropped into a horrified expression and she looked at me like I had just pissed in her Cheerios. “You’re joking, right? I didn’t recognize him a second ago because his hat was pulled down. But he’s a singer. Like, a reallyfamoussinger.”
“Famous singer? Like… Pavarotti?”
Maggie rolled her eyes. “No,” she said, drawing out the word to give it about a dozen more vowels. “More like Justin Timberlake meets Blake Shelton. How do you not know Josh Gabriel? Have you been living under a rock?”
She turned her phone so I could see a photograph of him leaning against a wooden fence. A horse leaned over the fence, its large nose pressing against his cheek. “And he isstaringat you.”
Well, that explained why I didn’t recognize him. I didn’t really listen to country music… or any of those pop top 40 hits. Nor did I pay attention toE! NewsandAccess Hollywood. However… hot guys who ride horses? That wasverymuch my thing.
“A famous country singer is staring at you and you don’t care,” Maggie said, shaking her head. “There’s no way you’re from Austin.”
I smiled. “You caught me there. I’m here for a couple of months because my dad is getting married.”Again.
My Father: The Manwhore. It was like a bad TV movie. “And since I’m here for a while, I figured I’d take on new clients, like yourself.” Yes, shift the conversation back to business and away from the sexy singer.
