honored,” Dean joked, putting his hand over his chest. “It’s just that you’re not my type.”
I laughed and shook my head.
“What about her?” Jo asked, pointing to the left side of the bar. I turned my attention to where she was pointing. There was a pretty blonde perched on a barstool, alone and sipping on a drink. She glanced over her shoulder as I watched her, and when our eyes met, she smiled and bit down on the edge of her lip—girl code for “come on over”.
She was pretty, I’d give Jo that, and her red dress left very little to the imagination, but she wasn’t my type. I preferred leggy brunettes who played hard to get.
“Nah, not feeling it,” I said.
“Oooookay,” Jo said, turning over her other shoulder. “Her?”
She tilted her head to the right, but I couldn’t tell who she was talking about. There was a sea of people to our left, plenty of women that I would have picked up back in Boston. Back then my tastes weren’t quite so singular. Blondes, redheads, brunettes, tall, short…didn’t matter.
“Who?” I asked, squinting toward the crowd.
“The girl with the pixie cut sitting with her friends. She looks like Tinkerbell or something.”
Ah, I knew who she was talking about. The girl was gorgeous no doubt, with a sort of Emma Watson vibe. I liked Hermione just as much as the next guy, but she wouldn’t do for tonight.
I shook my head and Dean laughed.
“Picky, picky. I’m sure someone here is more than worthy of your attention if you’d only give them a chance.”
I scowled at him. “What about you, Dean? Why don’t we set you up with someone?”
“Tonight is about you, my friend. Besides, I’m a busy man. I don’t have the luxury of dating at the moment.”
“Uh oh, then that means you’re about to find the love of your life,” Jo said.
Dean flinched back. “What makes you say that?”
She laughed just as the waiter set her drink down on the table. She thanked him, took a sip, and then turned her gaze back to Dean.
“Everyone knows that when you’re least looking for love, that’s when it finds you.”
Dean turned to face the bar, slapped both hands over his eyes and called out, “I’m not looking for love!” while making a kissy face.
We laughed and Josephine reached over to grab his arms before the patrons at the bar became even more confused by his antics.
“What about you, Jo?” I asked.
She took a sip of her drink, watching me over the lip of her glass.
“What about me?”
“Are you looking for love?”
She laughed and rolled her eyes. “I plead the fifth.”
“Why?”
“Because if I say I am, then your incessant flirting will only become more relentless.”
“And if you’re not?” I asked.
“Probably the same thing.”
I laughed and nursed my scotch. Was she right? Did she have me so figured out? She certainly had the upper hand: I wanted her and she didn’t want me.
Maybe it was time to mix it up, let her know what it felt like not to have me in her back pocket, ready and waiting for a green light.
I sipped my drink and scanned the bar, trying to glance through the crowd of women with fresh eyes. Then I saw her, near the back: a girl with light brown hair, tan skin, and a killer smile. She was sitting with friends and laughing. To be honest, she looked like she could have been Josephine’s sister.
Yup. She would do just fine.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Josephine
Most people think of life as a merry-go-round, with highs and lows and slight bumps in the road. At the end of the day, you’re riding a pony, so how bad can it be? I looked at my life like a tilt-a-whirl. It spun me round and round until I thought I’d hurl everywhere, and then the carny just kept laughing and kicked it up another notch.
I’d had thirty minutes, maybe an hour tops, where I’d thought things would begin to settle down for me. My best friend was moving to New York. We’d live together and she’d help me pay rent. Life was good, right? No. Life was a pit of snakes.
Julian was going on a date with an adorable girl.
How could this happen, you might ask?
Dean.
Everything bad in my life could be blamed on Dean.
He’d suggested Julian find a girl to date. He’d encouraged him to go over and chat with her.
I hated Dean.
The girl was lovely, of course. Her name was Molly and she’d moved from California the