Big Bad Boys A Romance Collection - Penny Wylder Page 0,178

out by his obsession with algorithms and finding the hottest (mathematically proven, of course) girlfriend. “It’s why I always end up dating chicks way out of my league,” he explained with a wink. Then he proceeded to show me photos of his most recent ex.

“She is very hot,” I agreed, silently adding, and how on earth did she decide to sleep with you?

After that date, there was the professional body-builder who spent most of the date trying to sell me into his protein-smoothie pyramid scheme. Did I mention said date was a happy hour for his protein-smoothie business? Then came the insurance salesman who got a little too detailed talking about life insurance schemes—Double Indemnity red flags, much?

There was the finance bro who bought me one drink, then invited me back to his place… And when I declined, he complained so loudly about the expense of the drink he’d bought me that I frog-marched him to the nearest ATM, took out cash, and threw a twenty in his face. I mean, first of all, do I look like a hooker? And second of all, if I were a hooker, I would cost a lot more than one crappy martini at a Wall Street after-work bar.

Which brings me here. Tonight. Waiting on yet another guy who will…

“Miss?”

I look up to find the bartender returning my card. “What’s wrong, was it declined?” Shit. I paid this one off last month. It definitely still has room on the balance.

“No, miss. It’s just that the gentleman on the far end has covered your tab.”

I glance down the bar to find Mr. Shirtless Bathroom Selfie himself lifting a glass in my direction.

Okay, so maybe he’s not the worst. There could still be hope.

I pick up my drink and head down the bar to meet him. “Rich?”

He leans in for the cheek kiss/one-armed hug and I awkwardly shuffle my drink to avoid spilling it down his shirt front. “It’s Dick, actually. Rich was my dad’s name.”

Probably should have stuck with it anyway, I think unfairly, as I take the bar stool beside him. “Dick. I’m Clove.” Not like I have room to talk anyway.

“Also a family name?” He stays standing beside me, leaning against the counter. His knee brushes mine, in a not entirely unpleasant way. At least, at first.

“Nope, one and only.” I lift my glass in a mocking toast.

He taps his to mine, eyes sharp and zeroed in on me. “Oh, I can see that.”

“Should we get a table or…?”

He shrugs and leans on the back of my stool. He’s so up in my personal space that if I try to lean backward, I’ll land in the lap of the woman beside me. It’s hard to even lift my drink to take another sip because his chest is pressed against my whole right side. I switch hands and lean on the bar instead, trying to put some breathing room between us. His knee, meanwhile, is nearly crushing my leg.

“I’m good here,” he says. He glances over my head at the selection. “Besides, not like we’ll be here long.”

You could say that again. I clear my throat, resist the urge to bolt off of this stool here and now. There is no man hot enough to make up for the way his breath smells either, like stale beer and sour cream and onion potato chips. “Busy day at the office?” I ask, following his gaze mostly so I can turn away from him.

He leans harder against my leg. My toes tingle, starting to go numb. “Huh? No, I had the day off. Just got back from the beach. Hey, bartender?” He snaps his fingers. Actually snaps them, until the bartender glances back at us and, with an apologetic glance in my direction, heads our way.

“One more scotch on the rocks,” Dick says, and now I can see why he prefers this version of his name. It really suits him.

That task done with, he turns to me and brushes my hair back over my shoulder. “So, Clove…”

Realizing that I can’t keep staring at the bar forever, I turn to face him, trying on a smile.

“Damn you’re gorgeous. You get that often?”

“I, uh… Thanks, I guess.”

“How about we get out of here, huh? Enough small talk for one night, am I right?” He winks at me.

Enough small talk being what, all five sentences we’ve exchanged? I suck in a deep breath. Mm, l’eau onions. “Listen, Dick, you seem really nice and all…”

“Of course, so let’s skip the