gaze to a table in the front-right corner. A man in a sharp suit fit to perfection and salt and pepper hair sits with two other men. He seems to be doing the majority of the talking in their threesome, the other two men nodding their heads like he’s their professor lecturing.
“Which one?” Chelsea asks. “The gray-haired one?”
“I’m not sure I’d call it gray,” I say. “It’s more that sexy, distinguished shade.”
I’m not sure what Chelsea sees but if Hannah’s looking for a guy who can map out a woman’s erogenous zones, that’s him. He stands, still talking to the men. They laugh and it’s clear it’s not forced, that whatever he said was truly funny. Turning around he walks to the bar, slides his empty glass to the bartender and orders another one.
Our eyes remain glued to him with varying degrees of emotion. I’m intrigued because I’m not sure I’d ever consider a guy with salt and pepper hair at my age, but I’m sure he’d teach me a thing or two with five minutes in the stall of the women’s room. A quick glance across the table and I see that Chelsea’s eyes are narrowed like she’s trying to figure something out. Hannah’s are on fire, as if she could incinerate him on the spot.
He taps his fingers on the bar to the rhythm of the soft music coming through the speakers. The expensive silver watch adorned on his wrist jiggles lightly with the movement. Just as I’m about to examine the rest of him, his head turns in our direction and his gaze sweeps over us and then doubles back. The guy cocks an arrogant smile and strolls around the bar to our table.
“Shit, we’ve been spotted,” Chelsea murmurs. We both put our heads in our drinks while Hannah, well, Hannah keeps her punishing eyes on him.
“He’s coming over,” I whisper like I’m thirteen and the hot mystery guy at the mall is approaching.
The scent of his expensive cologne hits my nose as he reaches the end of our table. “I must not have done a good enough job if you can still afford this place.” He’s speaking directly to Hannah, looking straight ahead at her as if Chelsea and I don’t exist.
“I thought they had standards at this place.” Hannah slowly looks him over and I give her credit, she doesn’t pause or stutter, and manages to keep a look of disgust on her face.
He rocks back on a laugh, his tongue slowly sliding over his lips. “It’s nice to see you again, Ms. Crowley. Snarky as always.” There’s an air to his tone. Playful and flirtatious and it makes it hard not to stare up at him in adoration. This man isn’t just a panty melter he’s a panty incinerator.
“Sorry, I can’t say the same.” Hannah brings the glass to her lips, sipping it and letting her fingers run up and down the stem.
My gaze shifts across the table to Chelsea who seems just as enthralled in their banter as I am.
“Oh, come on. I had a job to do, surely you understand that.”
Her fingers continually slide up and down the glass stem, her eyes fixated on him. “If I wasn’t with my employees I’d have a few choice words for you.”
“Don’t let us stop you,” Chelsea spits out and then instantly looks chagrined. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud,” she whispers to me.
“Listen to the girl. Don’t hold back. That is, as long as you can handle the same in return.” Without invitation, he sits next to Chelsea and her blue eyes widen in my direction as she slides closer to Hannah at the back of the booth. We’re like two scared kids whose parents are going at it.
My phone rings in my purse and all heads turn my way.
“I’m sorry.” I fumble to find the phone.
Meanwhile, Hannah leans forward and unleashes a string of curse words and name calling but I could never put them all together. By the time I silence my phone, seeing it’s my jackass of an ex, Hannah’s leaned back in her seat, legs crossed, sipping her drink as though everything is normal.
My gaze shoots to the man who’s still wearing the cocky smirk he’s had on since he arrived at the table. “Let me buy you ladies the next round. After all, I get paid pretty well when I win.” He winks at Hannah and she narrows her eyes to slits but says nothing.
He stands and