A sly grin covers my face while I sit and watch and wait. She tucks a strand of her long blonde hair behind her ear as she throws me a sexy-as-fuck smirk, and my cock jumps around behind my zipper for a second time. I’m so damn excited my dick’s working again that it’s hard to be still. I shift on the stool where I’m sitting, hoping to get a better look at her as she approaches, but at the last second, she turns and bypasses me, heading for the opposite end of the bar. What the fuck?
A sudden clap of laughter echoes from behind me. “Pick your tongue up off the floor and close your mouth.” Gunner squeezes in next to me and follows my gaze. “And while you’re at it, put your eyes back in your head.” His voice drags me back to my senses and away from the chick who just made me feel like an idiot.
“Why are you even here? I thought you left,” I ask Gunner as he grabs his phone from the counter in front of me and shoves it into the front pocket of his jeans.
“Forgot my damn phone. Thanks for watching it for me.” He laughs and leans against the counter before nodding in the direction of the blonde at the other end of the bar. “Looks like she’s not interested in your sad dick.” He laughs again, and I catch her glancing in our direction.
She jerks her gaze away quickly when her eyes meet mine and she realizes she’s been caught looking.
“Thought you were too sad about the band breaking up to search out the random make-me-feel-better-and-less-like-a-loser hookup.” His laughter continues.
“You got your phone, so why don’t you leave so I can drown myself in a couple more shots of whiskey and listen to the band who inspired me to waste the last ten years of my life?”
“Now that sounds more like my best friend. You sure you don’t want me to hang around for a while?”
I want you to leave so I can stalk the blonde before she disappears. I shake my head. “Nope, I’m good. Don’t need a babysitter.”
He looks over at the blonde again and smiles as he watches her for a few more seconds before glancing back at me. “You know something?” he asks, rubbing his jaw. “You’re a terrible fucking liar.”
I’m not going to let him bait me because I don’t have time. I know where he’s going with this, and I don’t care. The only thing I want right now is for him to leave so I can figure out why that chick suddenly changed her mind about approaching me.
“You’re right. I’m not a good liar. Anything else you’d like to say before you leave? Because I’m in need of another drink, and you know I like to drink alone.” Hoping he can take the hint, I motion for the bartender to bring me another shot.
“What the hell’s wrong with you, man? Just walk over to her, say the shit you always say, and within ten minutes, your sad dick will be happy again.” Ha! He thinks he’s so fucking funny.
“Not interested,” I lie as the bartender slides the glass of whiskey in front of me. “Are you done yet?” I ask, glancing in Gunner’s direction.
“Not interested?” he chokes out in between laughs. “I saw the way you watched her move through the crowd, and I also saw the look of devastation on your face when she walked past you without even a glance.” He pushes off the bar and shoves his hands into his front pockets. “Not interested?” he repeats before shaking his head. “Like I said, you’re a terrible fucking liar.” Gunner pulls his phone from his pocket and reads something on the screen. “I’m out. Keeley’s meeting me back at the condo.” He shoves his phone back into his pocket as he moves around me toward the crowd. Keeley is his standing weekly fuck, and it’s obviously his turn to supply the bed. I hate it when she stays over because they are obnoxiously loud and her high-pitched screams grate on my nerves.
“Later, man,” I tell him as he rushes away from me toward the exit. All it takes is one text from the screamer and he’s no longer concerned about me. My gaze drifts back toward the other end of the bar and I wait patiently, because I know she’s curious, and her eyes will be on me again soon.
Four
Gracie
Arrogance—I hate it. Especially when it’s oozing from a really sexy guy who looked approachable from afar, but as I got closer, I realized I’m not in the mood to stroke his ego and make him feel pretty tonight.
Right now, the only thing I want is to forget about my problems with an average guy, have some hot sex, and do an unapologetic walk of shame. I scan the bar for other options, but my eyes keep bouncing back to the arrogant asshole. That smirk he was wearing seemed to be permanently stuck on his face until I decided to bypass him at the last second and head to the opposite end of the bar. It’s obvious from the look he’s sporting now that he’s not familiar with rejection. I find a small open space and wiggle my way to the counter before I inconspicuously grab another quick look. I can’t help but notice the way the dark T-shirt he’s wearing hugs his muscular chest and how his blond hair is the perfect length to grip and hold tightly if his head happened to find its way between my legs . . . I suck in a deep breath as a sudden flash of heat rushes through me. Pull your mind out of the gutter, Gracie.
I quickly look away. My head falls back, and I squeeze my eyes shut as I attempt to reevaluate my decision to avoid Mr. Hot, Sexy, and Arrogant. It’s no secret that I’m impulsive and sometimes react too quickly, and that in itself should give me reason enough to rethink my actions and not be so quick to judge someone. Maybe he’s a really nice guy who happens to exude a whole lot of confidence. His look could’ve been one of self-assurance rather than arrogance, and a confident man is a total turn-on. I pull in one more deep breath, straighten my head, and open my eyes. My gaze just happens to land on him again, but this time he catches me ogling all of his hotness. He drags a hand through his grip-worthy blond hair, tilts his head slightly, and then bestows upon me his sexy as sin grin. Nope, can’t do it. Impulsive or not, I made the right decision to avoid him, because he looks like trouble. Oh, a little bit of trouble would be so much fun . . .
I glance down toward the bar top just so I don’t have to watch this guy’s attempt to persuade me to fall at his feet and beg him to fuck me. He’s sadly mistaken if he thinks that’s where this game we’re playing will end. I was raised with a bunch of rock stars, so I know his type, and I swore I’d never allow myself to be fooled by a beautiful face, a sexy smile, and a few muscles. I’ve made my decision, so no more staring across the bar. I’m here to drink and maybe hook up with someone who is not blond or sexy or arrogant. I shake my head. Who the hell am I fooling? Not only am I impulsive, I change my mind about every five to ten seconds.
I take in a deep breath and try to focus on the music. The soft sounds of “Hold Me Tonight” drift through the speaker, and the crowd goes wild. This is one of only a few songs where my dad steps back as lead and Uncle Kurt takes over. They wrote this song over two decades ago, and the fans love it as much today as they did back then.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asks, jolting me from my thoughts. I jerk my head up and my gaze darts to his face. Narrowed eyes stare back at me impatiently.
“Crown and Coke,” I say quickly because it’s apparent he’s not in the mood to wait. I pull a ten from my small clutch and lob it on the counter as the bartender slides my drink in front of me. I take a couple of unladylike gulps just as my phone vibrates inside my purse. I’m sure it’s Ella; she and Leo are probably heading out. I try hard not to roll my eyes, but I can’t help myself. Stop being so damn petty. She loves him, and it doesn’t matter that I have to force myself to even like him. It’s not about me; it’s about her.