“Okay, you’re on. But you have to record yourself saying that and send it to the group text.”
“Why?”
“Permanent evidence. If you renege on the deal, you have to buy me, Jen, and Angel new iPhones.”
Jen and Angel scream with laughter, but Chelsea’s eyes bulge in horror. “What?”
My smile is ruthless. “Deal or no deal, birthday girl?”
“That’s like three grand!”
Knowing she’ll agree eventually, and sooner if I act like I don’t care, I shrug and take a sip of my whiskey.
Disgruntled, she huffs. “Okay, fine. You’re on. But you have to stay over there and talk to him for at least ten minutes.”
I glance in his direction. He stares back at me, his gaze intense and unwavering. Thunderclouds churn over his head.
The thought of approaching all that negative energy and trying to start a conversation is daunting, but if it will get Chelsea to stop her smear campaign against my ex, it’s worth it. I’ve been enduring it for three months now, and I’m tired.
“I’ll try, but I can’t guarantee anything. He looks like he bites.”
Angel snickers. “If you’re lucky, he does.”
“Okay, you win. Here goes nothing.”
I sigh heavily, then chug the rest of my whiskey. Rising from the chair, I smooth my skirt with damp palms, then cross the room with my chin lifted and my shoulders squared, pretending a confidence I don’t feel.
Dark and Stormy watches me approach with the all the warmth of a contract killer.
By the time I stop at his tableside, I’ve decided to go with the truth rather than some cutesy opening line. In my present state of mind, I doubt I could come up with one, anyway.
“Hello. I don’t want to be here.”
He looks me up and down, his gaze traveling slowly over my figure. After a beat, he says in an unfriendly tone, “Yet here you are.”
We stare at each other in an oddly tense silence, as if both of us are waiting for the other to say something next and think whatever it is, it will be awful.
Finally, I say, “It’s my girlfriend’s birthday.”
A crease forms between his dark brows. “I don’t understand the connection between that and you standing there.”
“She promised me she’d stop trash-talking my ex if I came over and talked to you.”
He thinks about that for a moment. “That’s blackmail.”
“When it comes to Chelsea getting what she wants, all means of coercion are on the table.”
He glances past me. “Which one’s Chelsea?”
“The blonde.”
“She looks harmless.”
“All the most dangerous creatures do.”
He leans back against the booth and tilts his head, showcasing his beautiful jawline. His gaze grows assessing. “Were there any other terms of this blackmail of hers?”
“I have to stay for at least ten minutes.”
“And it’s important to you that she stop trash-talking your ex?”
“Yes.”
I can tell something about that pleases him, but can’t imagine why. He says, “All right. Sit down.”
He gestures to the empty space beside him in the booth. Somehow it doesn’t look like an invitation. Though his mouth is saying I should sit, his expression says he’d prefer I take a hike in a distant, snake-infested wilderness.
Apparently, he only likes to stare at women, not speak to them.
Too bad for him I’m not intimidated by cranky men with bad manners.
I sit beside him and smile politely. “I’d apologize for the inconvenience, but I think I’m going to enjoy annoying you for the next ten minutes.”
“Why would you want to annoy me?”
“You look like a lot of women’s biggest regret.”
We stare at each other in another tense silence. Only this time, I can smell his cologne. Spice, musk, something woodsy. Sexy and expensive. I can also see the color of his eyes, a fathomless dark blue that could be beautiful if it wasn’t for their hardness.
His tone low and his gaze piercing, he finally says, “And you look like a diamond some clown discarded so he could play with dirt. How long were you and this clown together?”
Startled, I blink. “Hang on. I’m trying to pick myself up off the floor.”
“What do you mean?”
“Is it really so obvious I’ve been dumped? How awful.”
“It’s your whole vibe. You’re like one of those shelter dogs.”