Page 47 of The Bad Girl List

“Of course. Thomas will probably want to come, too. Although I doubt my brother will agree to go to Zeke’s two nights in a row. We’ll go to another local bar, one where a younger crowd hangs out. It’s called Platitude.”

“Okay. Let me check the family schedule and I’ll text you a time.” I slap my hand to my forehead as something occurs to me. “Oh, my God, Trevor!”

“What? What is it?” He looks at me in concern. Tequila lifts her head from his lap, eyebrows arching to the right.

“I get to cross number six off the list!” I grab the wrinkled Post-It note and hold it in front of his face. “Lie to the aunties. Our dinner story is a complete lie!” With a feeling of triumph, I draw a line through number six.

He laughs. “See? Our arrangement is already working in your favor.”

“Two down, eight to go,” I reply.

His eyes crinkle with amusement and a delicious heat drips through my body. As I stare at him, I wonder if maybe, just maybe, Trevor Moretti will agree to be my number ten before my vacation is over. He hasn’t said he won’t do it, and the fact he hasn’t mentioned it feels like the door might be open. Knowing his situation, I don’t want to push it, but if he’s willing to leave the unspoken option on the table, then so am I.

CHAPTER 14

Platitude

DOMINIQUE

Platitude bar is the antithesis of Zeke’s.

For starters, it’s not out in the middle of the vineyards on an unlit, two-lane highway. It’s right on the downtown plaza of Healdsburg, a quaint area with boutique shops and restaurants. The main square has a large gazebo on a raised stage–for summer concerts, according to Trevor–mature trees, and grassy areas for picnics. It’s the sort of place you read about on travel blogs.

When we step into the bar, the vibe is different. It’s definitely an under-forty type of place. The only people not dressed up are the local hospitality workers, most of whom are easy to spot in their black slacks and white shirts. Everyone else is dressed up for a night out in wine country.

It’s also packed with people–so crowded that I’m going to have to turn sideways to get anywhere.

“I love this place already.” Annika stops just inside the doorway to sweep her gaze over the crowd. She takes a deep, dramatic breath and says, “Bring on the shots.”

“Minnie said she’d be here, right?” Thomas asks.

Annika rolls her eyes. “Keep your dick in your pants, dude. She’ll be here. Come on, let’s go get tequila shots and play a drinking game.” She grabs Thomas by the arm and drags him away, winking at me over her shoulder.

“What do you think?” Trevor has to shout to be heard over the noise. He’s wearing those delicious ass-hugging Wranglers and a simple button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. I decide Trevor could make a paper bag look sexy.

“Do you want the politically correct answer, or the honest answer?”

“I think you and I left politically correct behind in my brother’s trunk.”

I laugh. It feels good to be able to joke about last night’s drunken debacle. “Honestly, I hate places like this. It’s too crowded. I like Zeke’s so much better.”

Surprise flits through his eyes. “I don’t like crowds, either. Come on, I know a place where it’s a little quieter.”

He takes my hand and pulls me through the crowd, heading toward the back. His grip tightens as the mass of flesh presses in around us. A few minutes later, at the back of the bar, Trevor leads me down a short hallway that opens onto an outdoor patio.

This is the spot where smokers come to enjoy a cigarette. There are at least half a dozen ashtrays around the courtyard. I spot three people, all of them in black restaurant slacks and white button-down shirts, smoking together.

“Hope you don’t mind the smoke, but it’s quieter out here,” Trevor says.

“I’ll take cigarette smoke over a mosh pit any day.”

“Me, too.” He gestures to a cluster of bistro tables under outdoor lights that fill the back half of the patio. “Grab a table. I’ll get us some drinks. What do you want?”

Since we’re not being politically correct, I say, “How about something that’s watered down? I still have a headache from last night.”

He laughs at me, but not unkindly. “Okay, be back in a few.”

I pick a table in the back corner. Trevor comes out a few minutes later carrying not one, not two, but three glasses of white wine.

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