A minute later, her drink arrives. “Thank you, though I’m not sure I should be impressed or disheartened.”
“Definitely impressed,” I assure her with a smirk.
“Of course.” She rolls her eyes. “I forgot that when a man does anything, no matter how cursory or pedestrian, I should react with equal parts enthusiasm and admiration.”
Her sarcasm lights a fire in me that I haven’t felt in far too long.
I nod to her, as yet, untouched cocktail. “Drink up. You can’t very well smash the patriarchy if you’re thirsty.”
“You speaking from experience?” Her delicate brow forms a perfect arch.
I take a small sip. “Damn right.”
“Well, then, perhaps we can be friends.” Her words hang in the air, her inflection a bit higher, and I can tell she’s waiting for my name.
“Marc,” I supply, the lie rolling off my tongue.
“Grace,” she returns.
It’s official. I, Everett Marc Madigan, have lost my damn mind. That’s the only explanation I can provide for why I’m sitting in a bar, flirting with a gorgeous stranger, and giving her a fake name. Or maybe I’m not crazy. Maybe there’s something about being here, far away from my everyday life and responsibilities, that makes me want to play pretend. I can’t really explain it, but there’s a freedom here that I haven’t found anywhere else.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” She asks. “Oh, God, that sounds so cliché. But, really. This town isn’t that big, and I haven’t seen you around before.”
“Nope. Just in town for the night. I fly out tomorrow morning.”
“Well, I hope I’m not the first to welcome you to our bustling metropolis…”
My smile is broad. “Would you believe you are?”
She turns fully toward me, and I get a closer look at her curves—the indentation of her waist, the flair of her hips—and nearly drool.
“That’s a damn shame.”
“The bartender tried, I guess.”
“Her name’s Carrie, and that doesn’t surprise me.”
“Go way back, do you?”
“Not too far. I think she went to middle school with my half sister.”
“And did they have sleepovers and braid each other’s hair?”
“Not even a little bit. If memory serves, Carrie poured bleach into my half-sister Mandy’s shampoo bottle at cheer camp one summer.”
“Looks like I dodged a bullet, then.” I scoot my chair forward, enough so that our legs are just barely touching.
“I’d say so. But I’m no expert on dodging bullets, sadly.”
“Yeah?” I’m curious about her comment, but it’s more than that. I’d say just about anything to keep her talking to me. I haven’t been this attracted to anyone in years, if ever. Honestly, I never even felt a pull like this toward Victoria. Our relationship was built on mutual satisfaction, and maybe that’s why, in the end, neither of us was satisfied.
“I’m the queen of crappy relationships. If you’re looking to lose your job, move into your mother’s basement, or tank your credit score, keep hanging out with me. I seem to be a magnet for guys who just can’t get their shit together.” Her self-deprecating laugh floats through the air between us, and I can feel her lean closer when my hand brushes her knee.
“To be honest, I’m rather attached to my job. I wouldn’t live with my mother again for all the money in the world, and I’d definitely like to keep my credit in the black. But still, I’ll take my chances.”
“A risk-taker, huh?” Her breath is warm on my neck as she leans in.
I take another swallow of my beer. “Hell yes.” My left hand glides up her thigh, as I feel her shiver against me. This isn’t my usual style, I’ll admit, but there’s something about being her that makes me feel bold.
