Love to Hate You (Hope Valley #9) - Jessica Prince Page 0,3
my way to the bar. Spotting a stool near the curve on the far end, I hooked my purse and jacket on the back, hefted myself up, leaned my elbows onto the scarred wood top, and looked toward the bartender.
He glanced down the length of the bar and caught my eye when I waved to him, tipping his chin, indicating he’d be with me in just a second.
“Bet it wouldn’t take me more than three tries to guess your drink.”
At the deep, husky voice, I swiveled in my seat to face the man on the barstool beside mine and nearly fell out of my seat at the first glimpse of him. His light brown hair was long on top and cut close on the sides. It looked like the only styling he did was to drag a hand through it to brush it back off his forehead. Stunning grassy green eyes smiled down at me from beneath a thick fan of dark lashes. Those eyes and the man’s sharp cheekbones might have made him look almost too pretty, but his bristly square jaw and Roman nose gave him a rugged appeal. His full, plump lips were turned up in a tiny grin that showed off a perfectly straight smile.
He had the shoulders of a professional linebacker, with thick, rounded biceps that strained the sleeves of his gray Henley. This dude was either one with the gym or had the kind of job that required serious manual labor, but either way, holy God, did he have a body. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen such a good-looking man in real life. On TV and in movies, sure. But never up close and personal in real life. He couldn’t possibly be talking to me.
I glanced over my shoulder, wondering if there was some tall goddess of a woman behind me, but there wasn’t.
Turning back to him, my lips quirked up in a puzzled smile. “I’m sorry?”
“Your drink,” he stated, his grin curving even higher. “I said I bet it would only take three tries to guess what you’re gonna order.”
What was happening? “You want to bet that you can get my drink order right?”
“Yep. It’s kind of a talent of mine.”
I felt my own smile grow as well as I asked, “All right. Say I take this bet. What do you get if you win?”
He looked up thoughtfully. “How about your name?”
“Seems like a lot of trouble to go through for a name when you could just ask.” Was I flirting? Holy shit! I was totally flirting!
Turning on his stool to face me full on, he rested an elbow on the bar top and leaned just the slightest bit closer, “Well, there’s also the added perk that I’ll get it right and you’ll be so impressed you won’t tell me to leave you the hell alone.”
I narrowed my eyelids and hummed contemplatively. Just then, the bartender stopped in front of me and asked, “What can I get you?”
I arched my brow at the sexy stranger. “I don’t know, what do you think?”
He lowered his brows and gave me an intense top-to-toe, like he was focusing hard to come up with an answer. “Dirty martini?” I scrunched my face up in disgust. “All right, maybe not,” he said with a warm chuckle. “How about . . . red wine—no, scratch that. Make it white wine.”
“Nope,” I said on a giggle. “Last chance.”
“I got it,” he exclaimed, giving the bar a victorious slap. “Cosmo.”
“Wow,” I dragged out, making my eyes go big.
“That’s it, isn’t it? I got it.”
I shook my head. “No. I’m actually surprised by just how bad you are at this game.” Turning back to the bartender, I said, “American IPA. Whatever you’ve got on tap is fine. Thanks.”
The bartender moved down to pour me a beer, and I turned to the stranger sitting beside me.
“Christ. That loss hurts,” he grunted, fighting back a grin. “Never would’ve thought a woman as gorgeous as you would order a beer.”
The divorce settlement as well as my cut from the sale of the house had left me with a lot more money than I’d been expecting, so one of the first things I’d done—kind of as a fuck you to Alex—was go out and buy a whole new wardrobe. It was amazing how clothes that actually fit could change a woman’s battered outlook on her figure.
When I’d decided on this outing, I hadn’t put much effort into my look, choosing a pair of skinny jeans