Page 2 of One Night Only
One of Dallas’s eyebrows arches, and I see him bite back a smirk. “A date, huh?”
“Yeah…” I glance at the time on my phone again. “But he’s thirty-eight minutes late.”
Dallas scoffs. “Must be a realwinnerto keep a girl like you waiting.”
I don’t miss the sarcasm in his tone. Or the compliment.
“What brings you here tonight?” I ask, choosing to switch the focus from myself and the real possibility that my date is no show.
Dallas meets my eyes, the ghost of a curious smile tugging at his lips before he finally says, “Uh, actually, I was celebrating with some buddies, but they just left.”
I don’t know what he’s celebrating. He looks like he works in finance, so I assume a new account or something. It’s none of my business, so instead of prying, I hold my glass up in toast. “Well, congratulations.”
The look in his eyes is intense as he clinks his glass with mine, and I feel my cheeks flush. I don’t know what is happening;it could very well just be a few sips of wine on an empty stomach, but it feels as if a swarm of butterflies has been let loose in my belly. I feel giddy. Something I haven’t felt in a long time.
Dallas opens his mouth to say something, but his words are cut short, the carefree smile on his face disappearing the second I feel a hand on my shoulder. He snaps his mouth shut and turns back to stare straight ahead.
“Emily?”
I spin around, surprised to find Jake, the handsome advertising executive, standing right there. Dressed in a pale blue suit that might be a little too snug, sandy blond hair that is slicked back, and blue eyes that do a quick yet blatant assessment of me. He’s good looking, in thatthirty-something-year-old-frat-boykind of way.
“Jake?”
“The one and only,” he says with a smug smile.
Behind me, I’m sure I hear a scoff, but I ignore it.
I raise a hand in greeting, expecting Jake to shake it, but much to my surprise, he moves in close, kissing me on each of my cheeks before I even have a chance to decline his advance.
He smells a little predictably of a Gucci cologne, and I don’t miss the flash of a shiny gold Rolex on his wrist when he holds up a hand to grab the attention of the bartender.
I glance sideways, finding Dallas still right there, so close yet staring at the shelves of liquor bottles lined up behind the bar. I meet his eyes in the mirrored wall behind the bottles, and he flashes me another wink, one that makes my heart flutter against my ribs.
With a confident and slightly arrogant disposition, Jake orders himself a top-shelf whiskey and indicates my glass for a refill before taking the stool beside me, sitting impossibly close.
“God! Your photo doesn’t do you justice,” Jake says with a salacious once over, eyes trailing me from head to toe. “You’re gorgeous.”
Now, it’s not that I’m averse to being complimented by aman. Sure, I’m an independent woman. Who doesn’t appreciate being told they’re gorgeous once in a while? But I’d been expecting some form of an apology for his being over half an hour late. The way in which his eyes linger slightly longer than necessary on the short hem of my dress, I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t bother me that the first thing Jake offers in lieu of an apology is the fact that I’m surprisingly better looking than he’d anticipated. It’s either a giant red flag or nerves. I can’t quite tell, but I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“So...” I begin the inevitable small talk. “You work in advertising?”
“Harris McKenzie.I’mMcKenzie,” he confirms with a boastful grin. “Do you remember that commercial with the lingerie models wearing nothing but diamond bikinis while playing football in the middle of Times Square?” he asks. “It played during the Super Bowl.”
I shake my head. “I’m not really into sports.”
He guffaws, like he can’t possibly believe what I’ve just told him, and I smile, offering a nonchalant shrug.
“Well, that wasmycommercial. I directed the entire thing myself,” he clarifies, seemingly offended by my lack of enthusiasm. “It might even win an ADDY…”
Before I can feign interest by pretending to know what an ADDY is, we’re interrupted by the bartender as he places our drinks onto the countertop. Jake stands, taking both glasses, and I look up at him, confused, wondering if he’s had enough of me already and he’s taking my wine as consolation.
“Let’s move to a table.” He points to one of the empty booths by the front window.
Reluctantly, I stand, grabbing my purse, catching Dallas’s dubious side-eye.
“It was… nice to meet you,” I say quietly. “Thanks for the drink.”
He tips his chin in return, holding his beer in the air incheers, but doesn’t say anything, and I don’t miss the disappointment that stirs in my chest as I turn away from him, following Jake.
