bribe me?”
“Trying to buy a lady a drink.”
“We’re done here, Glo,” she said, standing up. “Let’s book.”
“I’m not ready to leave, Grace.” Gloria gave her some not-so-subtle wide eyes.
“Yes, you are.”
Gloria smiled apologetically at Clay. “Listen, if you do stick around and you ever need a haircut, stop by Beachside Beauty. We do men.” She laughed self-consciously at the double entendre. “You know what I mean. Anyway, I’ll cut your hair, but”—she reached up to flutter a lock on his neck—“it’d be kind of a shame to cut this off.”
Just as she tugged some of the hair he hadn’t cut since the day he’d quit working for his dad, the front door opened.
Gloria leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Don’t get on Grace’s bad side.”
At the door, three women walked in, one with copper curls cascading to bare shoulders and a yellow dress cut low enough to steal a man’s breath.
Well, holy hell. Look what the wind blew in.
Then all the sounds and smells and sights of the neighborhood bar faded into gray silence as Lacey’s and Clay’s eyes connected for the space of four, five, six rapid heartbeats.
It took a nudge from the blonde he recognized as the Jeep driver, but Lacey slowly made her way toward him. Goddamn, she looked good. Shiny, curvy, bright, and beautiful.
When she reached him she bit her lower lip hard enough to wear away the gloss and leave a little white spot and took a breath deep enough to strain some soft flesh against the scooped neck of her sundress.
He let his gaze drop there for just a moment before standing and reaching out a hand. “Of all the gin joints in all Mimosa Key…”
Her glossy lips lifted in a smile that rivaled the blistering sun he’d spent the day under. “You walk into mine,” she finished.
Oh, man. He’d just met his match.
Chapter Five
Lacey couldn’t let go of his hand. Not just because his fingers were strong and calloused, or because just the sight of him made her knees a little wobbly, but because…
Of all the gin joints.
He’d quoted her number-one all-time favorite movie. Her movie. “You’ve seen Casablanca?”
“A dozen times.” He guided her to the stool next to him, empty now that Gloria Vail had scooted away.
“Really?” She glanced over her shoulder, but Zoe and Tessa had found a table on the other side of the bar, as planned. Lacey was only supposed to get the drinks and casually “bump into” Clay Walker.
Not sit on a bar stool next to him exchanging movie quotes.
“Why are you surprised? It’s a great movie.” His leg brushed hers as he sat down and settled too close, sending an electric jolt through her. “At least it would be if they’d changed the ending.”
“Change the ending? Of Casablanca? Why ruin perfection?”
“Perfection?” Bone-meltingly blue eyes lingered one more time on the sweetheart neckline of her dress, which seemed summery and safe for a night out with the girls but suddenly felt really sexy.
“The wrong guy gets the girl,” he said softly. “So that’s not perfection.”
“The wrong guy?”
“Rick gave up too easily, if you ask me.” Almost imperceptibly, he moved closer. “I would never give up that easily.”
For a world-tilting second she forgot what they were talking about. Forgot why she’d come to the bar or what she wanted to say to him. Might have forgotten her own name.
“So, this is a really nice surprise,” he said. “You a regular here?”
“I just popped in with some friends.” To tell you I love your sketches.
“Can you forgive me?” he asked.
Forgive him? She was the one who’d kicked him off the beach. “For what?”
“For not liking the ending of Casablanca.” He gave her a slow, easy smile, all deadly and dreamy at the same time. “And for not being my father.”
She had to do this. Had to. No excuse in the world could stop her from jumping through the opening he’d just made. I like your ideas. Very simple, very honest. A little crow as an appetizer.
But they just looked at each other, waiting for the other to move first, until the bartender arrived and broke the moment. “What can I get you, miss?”
“Wine… three white wines.”
Clay leaned into the bar. “Ronny, put those on my tab.”
“That’s not necessary.”
He held up a hand to stave off her argument. “And take two of them to those lovely young ladies by the window. Miz Armstrong will have hers here.” Somehow, he combined that southern drawl with easy authority.
Ronny splashed some yellow liquid