That night, I spotted him the moment he walked behind the bar. Unfortunately, I’d sworn off guys after my breakup with Callum. I’m not made for relationships. The first few times I’d cracked open my heart, it’d resulted in nothing but letdowns. The way my love life is looking, I’ll be the future Thelma—alone in the nursing home and cheating during bingo.
Another reason I knew Silas was off-limits was his job. Cohen has recounted endless bartender stories—how they’re in that line of work for the thrill of the nightlife. They have no issues going home with random women like it’s their reward after a long night’s work.
I shake my head, getting myself together, and walk toward them. All eyes have turned to me as everyone awaits my response when I reach them.
I ignore Silas and glare at Cohen. “Really? You invited him?” I hold up the gift he no longer deserves. “I’m taking this back. No expensive liquor for traitors.”
“Technically, Finn invited him,” Cohen corrects before pointing his spatula toward Asshole Bartender. “Silas is cool. You two need to talk out your wrong-number differences.”
I flip Cohen the bird while still refusing to glance at Silas.
Finn, smirking wide and proud of providing today’s entertainment, signals back and forth between Silas and me. “How did you two meet?”
I roll my eyes at Finn’s terrible job of playing clueless. He definitely knows.
“She gave me her number at the bar,” Silas answers smugly.
My gaze flashes to him as he takes the few steps separating us. I inhale the rich scent of his cologne. It’s familiar and expensive … and my favorite. There’s something attractive about a man who wears a strong cologne—a sign that he enjoys being in charge.
“Either the music was too loud or I’m losing my hearing because I heard her name wrong,” he continues, his focus solely on me as he holds out his hand. “It’s good to see you again, Callum.”
I narrow my eyes at him and swat away his hand. “Funny, jackass.”
“Aunt Lola said a bad word!” Noah, Cohen’s son, shouts before crawling out from underneath the table like an ant who’s been waiting for a crumb to drop.
Shit, I hate when he hides down there.
For some strange reason, Noah plays with his toys under the table. Georgia said it’s because he likes to listen to grown-up conversations. I now agree with that statement.
“Sorry, Noah,” I say, feeling the need to explain myself to a kid who has to be reminded not to eat his boogers. “It was an accident.”
He nods, accepting my apology, and runs over to Cohen, asking for a juice box.
I walk around Silas to find a chair, bumping my shoulder into his. Throwing my head back, I groan when I discover the only empty chair is between Georgia and Silas.
Did he set that up too?
It wouldn’t surprise me after he came here and put on a show. I contemplate grabbing the chair and dragging it to another spot, but that’d prove his little game is working. I can’t have that. While he scoots out his chair and sits, I drop my gift onto the small bench where the others are. I sit down to his right, smacking my elbow against the side of his head, and turn my back to him. He lets out an oomph.
“Thanks for the heads-up,” I hiss to Georgia.
She lifts her phone from the table. “Check your phone for the fifteen text messages I sent.”
“Shit,” I mutter, sliding my hand into my crossbody and realizing I left my phone in the car.
“Sorry,” she whispers. “I had no idea he was coming. I was surprised too.”
I frown, but before I get the chance to reply, Silas taps my shoulder. I peer back at him.
“Did you fall from heaven?” he asks, and I wait for a cheesy comment to follow. “Because so did Satan … and I think you might be him.”
My mouth falls open.
Not what I expected.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Um, that’s rude.”
“I’m rude?” He scratches the five o’clock shadow along his sharp jawline. “What kind of evil person comes up with an idea like that?”
“I think you mean, what kind of genius comes up with an idea like that?” Georgia, the CEO of snooping on conversations, says.
That’s my girl.
Silas doesn’t even pay her a glance. He leans closer to me and lowers his deep voice. “How are you doing today, fake number-giver? Ruin any other guy’s dreams of finding love?”
“Nope.” I shake my head. “You were my latest victim.”
He chuckles. “I should’ve known it was a trick when you said to call. Texting is always the way to go.” He’s amused, almost impressed.
“No, I still think calling is better,” I say with honesty. “It’s more intimate. Texting is so easy … you can’t read emotions or lies through texting.”
“Too bad for you we’ll never get a chance to have a phone call. I don’t talk to people who are Satan’s sidekick.”
“Yet you’re talking to me right now.”
“Yes, to get your advice on staying out of hell since it seems you have all the inside information.”
“You can start by not hitting on random women every night at work.” I finally turn in my chair to face him and ignore the attention on us.
That night at the bar, I was aware of his eavesdropping. When he asked for my number, I debated on whether to give it to him. Since it was the first time in a while I’d been interested in a guy, I was tempted. But my intuition stepped in to tell me he was bad news and most likely had a call log full of Brittany: Blonde from Club Manias in it. I observed him as he worked, witnessing woman after woman hit on him while he flirted back.
No, thank you on that.
I was surprised Cohen vouched for him being a good guy. Cohen is picky over who he brings around Noah and us. If he’d thought Silas was a weirdo, he’d have never let him come today.
Silas scoffs, “You were the first woman whose number I asked for at Luna Bar. Consider that flattering.”
I mock his scoff. “Yeah, right.”
“Ask Cohen. The last thing I need is some random hookup showing up at my job. I have a strict no hooking up policy at work.”
I raise a brow. “Does that mean you’re celibate then?”
He chuckles. “Why, yes, my darling, that’s exactly what it means.”
“I believe the people who claim the earth is flat more than that.”
“How about this?” He strokes his jaw. “Let’s start over. You can tell me why your parents named a beautiful girl like you Callum. If their goal was to steer men away from you, it wasn’t necessary since you’re evil. And I’ll tell you why it was a mistake, giving me the wrong number.”
“Fine. Since Cohen invited you, I’ll believe you’re a halfway-decent person.”
“A whole-way decent person. Now, tell me your real name.”
“Lola. I didn’t lie about that.”
“Your full name.” His dark eyes study me.
“Why?”
He shrugs. “Just curious.”
“What makes you think I’d give you my full name when I wouldn’t give you my number?”
“Good point.” He snaps his fingers. “I wouldn’t believe you anyway.”