“I spy someone that’ll wipe that grumpy look off your face.” Justin lowered his voice. “Blonde. Three o’clock. Staring right at you.”
Blake turned his head. His gaze collided with the petite blonde at the other end of the bar. Wavy golden hair, bright blue eyes, full pink lips. She was gorgeous, but he couldn’t summon even a flicker of interest.
Unfortunately, she took their eye contact to mean he was interested.
“Don’t fuck it up,” Justin warned with a grin. He made himself scarce just as the blonde sidled up to Blake with a flirtatious smile.
“Hey. Do you mind if I join you?”
Bold. Then again, she didn’t look like the type of woman who got rejected often.
Blake did mind and would much rather wallow in peace, but he didn’t know how to tell her that without sounding like an asshole, so he responded with a noncommittal shrug.
The blonde plopped herself on the barstool next to him, undeterred by his lack of enthusiasm. “I’m Cathy.”
“Blake.”
“Nice to meet you, Blake.” Cathy leaned forward, giving him an eyeful of her generous cleavage. “What’s a handsome guy like you doing here all alone on a Friday night?”
Blake really didn’t feel like flirting tonight. He could leave, but a small part of him held onto the hope Farrah would show up. The best course of action was to extricate himself from the conversation—by telling her a story that’d have her running for the hills.
Hmm. I could tell her I have herpes. That should do the trick. Then again, with my luck—
“He’s not alone. He’s with me.”
Blake thought he’d imagined Farrah’s voice until the faint scent of orange blossoms and vanilla wafted into his nostrils. He spun around, his face splitting into a grin when he saw her standing behind him.
She came.
Just like that, his mood did a one-eighty.
“Sorry I’m late.” Farrah touched his arm, and an electric shock worked its way up to his shoulder, causing it to tingle in a way that couldn’t be healthy. She turned to Cathy. “Thanks for keeping him company until I got here.” Her tone made it clear it was time for Cathy to leave. Pronto.
Cathy sighed. “All the good ones are taken.” She slid off the stool and strutted away, causing a waiter to stumble over his own feet.
Farrah withdrew her hand, but Blake’s shit-eating grin didn’t waver. “You came.”
“Don’t read too much into it,” she warned. “I’m hungry and you said this place had good burgers, so here I am.”
“I thought you went to dinner. Date didn’t go well?” he asked casually.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Farrah took Cathy’s seat. “I just want a burger, fries, and a stiff drink.”
“Coming right up.” Blake flagged down Justin. “One Egret Burger special and a vodka soda. Make it strong.”
“You got it.” Justin slid an appreciative glance in Farrah’s direction and chuckled at the resulting scowl on Blake’s face before disappearing into the kitchen.
“My go-to drink.” Farrah sounded surprised. “You remember.”
“Of course I remember.” Blake examined the flush on her cheeks. She’d always hated how she turned red after drinking, but he thought it was adorable. “Red wine?”
Her hands flew to her face. “Is it that obvious? I must look like a tomato.”
“You look beautiful.” It was an understatement. Farrah always looked beautiful, but tonight, she fucking glowed. Her hair fell in glossy waves down her back, and her red lipstick made her lips look even fuller and lusher than usual. She wore a black dress that clung to every curve and a pair of killer heels that showed off her long, shapely legs.
A hot coil of arousal tightened in Blake’s gut.
Right. Time to change the conversation before his mind wandered in a direction that’d land him in trouble.
Boundaries. Stick to ’em (for now).
“Also, thank you for saving me from that woman. I was about to tell her I had herpes. I don’t!” Blake added quickly when Farrah choked on her spit. Fuck. “It was an excuse. To get her to stop talking to me.”
“So you thought you’d tell her you have herpes?” Her eyes gleamed with amusement and disbelief. “You could’ve just said you didn’t feel like talking.”
Blake frowned. Huh. She has a point.
Justin brought out Farrah’s food and drink. “Let me know if you need anything else,” he drawled. He winked at her and earned himself another glare from Blake.
“She’s fine,” Blake snapped.
“Why don’t you let the lady speak for herself?” A spark of mischief lit up Justin’s eyes before he shifted his attention back to Farrah. “If you need another burger, beer, or someone to show you around town…I’m your guy. I’m Justin, by the way.”
Farrah laughed while Blake’s hands clenched into fists.
“I’m Farrah, and I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, peering up at Justin from beneath her lashes.
Was she flirting with him?
A snarl ripped from Blake’s throat. “She doesn’t like beer, and she’s lived in New York for years. She doesn’t need you ‘showing her around.’”
“I don’t know.” Farrah sounded thoughtful. “You did say I should explore outside downtown more often.” She cocked her head at Justin. “How well do you know uptown?”
A huge grin overtook Justin’s face. “Very well. I can bring you to—”
“Nowhere.” Blake’s gaze drilled into Justin, who looked like he was trying not to laugh. “Don’t you have other customers to tend to?”
“Sure, but none are as beautiful.” Justin winked at Farrah again, causing her to blush. “But I should return to work before I get into any more trouble. With my boss, I mean.”
The Egret’s manager was the chillest dude on the planet and didn’t give two fucks about what his staff did as long as no customers complained.
Justin slid a sly glance in an apoplectic Blake’s direction before refocusing on Farrah. “Holler if you need anything, beautiful.” He sauntered off before Blake could wring his neck.
Farrah smiled at the bartender’s departing back. “He’s so nice.”
“Nice? He’s the biggest manwhore in the five boroughs,” Blake fumed. “Trust me when I say he was not talking about a stroll along the High Line when he offered to ‘show you around.’”
Farrah brushed off his concern. “It was harmless flirting. He’s charming and quite hot. I can see why he’s such a hit with the ladies.” Her gaze followed Justin as he made drinks for a group of older women who blatantly ogled him. “I’m not usually a tattoos girl but he makes them work.”
Blake hadn’t started the night planning murder, but if that was how it had to end, so be it.
“He only got those tattoos to pick up girls,” he growled, even though he wasn’t sure if that was true. “And that’s not the only thing he picked up.”
Sure, insinuating Justin had STDs was petty, but Blake didn’t give a shit.