by Hazel Parker
“Want to go out and have some casual dinner? I owe you one.”
She shot me yet another look, and so I clarified with a grin, “I’m not asking you out. Just a friendly dinner.”
“Oh,” Kate said. She looked at Chuck, who had now happily finished his dog meal and was warily approaching me.
Chuck and I looked at each other in silence, almost as if waiting for some movement. It was him who made a move first, sniffing my shoes before tentatively licking one. I frowned but let him do so until he became more enthusiastic, then began to grow bolder by rubbing his whole body down my ankle.
Jesus.
“Are you a cat or a dog?” I muttered.
Kate giggled, obviously pleased. “I think it’s delightful.” She turned to me with twinkling eyes, and she beamed all of a sudden. “I’m famished. Let’s go get dinner.”
I blinked. So the dog put all Kate’s wariness to rest?
This woman was so odd.
* * *
We had dinner at the bar I took Paul to before, and I could tell Kate enjoyed the food very much. We chatted lightly about trivial stuff, and I asked about her work before she got here. Apparently, Kate was just as goal-oriented as Paul had been, having finished college a year early with a degree in creative writing. She mentioned the magazine she worked for in Los Angeles, and I waited for her to bring up the getting fired thing and what exactly happened. But she didn’t, and we both changed the topic and talked about Chuck instead, with Kate telling me the dos and don’ts when it came to dog care and me actually listening intently.
After that, there was really not much to talk about, so we just sat there in almost companionable silence and watched the comings and goings. A woman approached me a few minutes later, winking and looking me up and down almost suggestively. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as Kate’s brow rose before she controlled her expression and hid her face behind her juice as the woman just went straight in and asked for my number.
The woman wasn’t my type, but I did my best to be pleasant, anyway. Just because my PR agent told me to lie low didn’t mean I was going to cut off all forms of communication, even if it was just flirting. That was just insane.
Kate clearly wasn’t used to this thing, as she subtly moved a few seats to the left so she wouldn’t be within earshot. While the woman was trying to charm me, I found myself eyeing Paul’s little sister with a critical eye.
Obviously, she wasn’t so little anymore. She also wasn’t that bad-looking, and I was surprised at just how good her figure was. She’d hidden it in her casual clothes, but now she was wearing a green summer dress that accentuated it and made her look less prim and more approachable. She was too short to be my type, but I guess I could see why her ex wouldn’t stop stalking her, considering how pretty she was and how smart she seemed—sweet, too, based on her interaction with my dog.
That didn’t mean that bastard ex was right in doing so.
It was pretty clear, though, that Kate wasn’t used to hanging out in bars. She looked awkward just eyeing her orange juice and sipping every once in a while, and she obviously looked a little bit bored. Just as I was about to ask her if she wanted to come back here and have an actual conversation instead of sitting all by her lonesome, my thoughts were halted when I watched a man suddenly approach her out of nowhere.
He seemed to be in his thirties and seemed to be dressed up good—unfortunately, he also seemed to be the type who picked up women often. I knew a guy who simply wanted a hookup at the back of my hand, and I wasn’t surprised when he smiled and began turning on the charm right away. I made the usual non-committal responses to the woman beside me but kept my attention as Kate listened to the guy.
I expected her to be all tough, like how she handled me back in the apartment. Confident, maybe flashing a smile and responding to his flirting if she was interested. Imagine my shock when Kate did none of that, instead mumbling something that sounded like a half-hearted attempt at making conversation. The guy wasn’t deterred, and when he began to brag about the places he could take her and she looked clearly uncomfortable, I realized that it wasn’t that she disliked him.
She didn’t seem to know how to actually flirt back.
The guy kept on, and I heard words about him taking her back to his place to let her see his art collection. Art collection, my ass. Some protective instinct surged in me, especially when Kate looked like she was taken aback by the proposal and was anxiously trying to find the polite words to refuse. Without further ado, I gave the woman beside me—whose name I hadn’t even asked yet—an apologetic smile and told her that maybe we could catch up next time. Then I was sliding down the stools until I was sitting beside Kate, cutting the guy mid-sentence as he stared at me.
I stared back. Then I turned to Kate and flashed her a devilish grin. “Sorry I’m late, sweetheart. I got caught up in work. How was your day?”
The guy frowned. Kate frowned, too, but a few seconds later she was clearing her throat and responding. “It was…good. How was yours?”
It didn’t take a genius to realize what was going on, and the guy mumbled an apology before backing off and disappearing into the crowd. I took a sip of my drink and shot Kate a look. “What was that all about?”
She groaned. “That was me telling myself to have some fun and flirt with some guy for once in my life.”
I shot her a look back. “Obviously, you need some practice.”
Kate glared. “I bet you know a lot about that.”
Her attitude was back, and for some reason, it amused me. I found myself grinning—then taking her up on the challenge. “I do, in fact. And that orange juice you’re having isn’t going to help at all. Come on, Kate. Let’s have some fun.”
She groaned again, but I heard no protest. I decided to start from there and took the first step.
I ordered her a margarita.
CHAPTER EIGHT
KATE
“I’m the worst flirt in the world.”
That was an overstatement, maybe, and I didn’t even know why I was saying it out loud like it was the biggest news in the world. Perhaps it was the alcohol talking I wasn’t a big drinker.
Gray certainly didn’t think it was the biggest news, with how he was eyeing me in amusement. I tried glaring at him—something I’d been doing too much lately—but I ended up remembering how I botched up that scene earlier, and all I could do was groan all over again.
“Cut it out,” he said. “You’re sounding like a cat with stomach pain.”
This time, I did glare at him. The man chuckled, then lifted his dark brown drink in an air cheer before he sipped at it. I didn’t know how we grew this comfortable with each other in the span of an hour, but it probably had a lot to do with the shared connection of not wanting to meet anyone new tonight—me because I was the worst flirt ever, and Gray because…well, I didn’t know, actually. But he didn’t seem as interested in that woman who was flirting with him as I’d first thought.
“And you are too smug for your own good,” I said. One thing I learned about Gray in my observations was that he wasn’t the type to get too offended easily, which was a good thing because I often spoke my mind.
“So how come you’re the worst flirt in the world?” he asked, and I could sense the curiosity in his approach. It wasn’t mocking, which was why I found myself shrugging and actually responding.
“There wasn’t really a need to flirt because I was with someone for three years,” I said. “He was my first serious boyfriend.”
“What about after? I thought it had been almost a year since you broke up with him.”
I shrugged again. “I wasn’t interested in anyone.”
“So you weren’t into that guy earlier?”
“No. I just thought I’d give it a try. Obviously, that back fired.”
“Well that happens,” Gray replied, eyeing my empty glass. He signaled the waiter and ordered a fifth one, then continued
watching me. It wasn’t the seductive kind of gaze, but more like an analytical one—almost like I was a fascinating specimen to him. “Your ex is a bastard.”
He said it with such feeling, I couldn’t help but agree. “Tell me about it.” Not really wanting to talk about the topic any longer, I met his gaze. “What about you? What’s your deal? You come here to pick up women?”
“Maybe,” he replied. “Maybe not. It depends, really.”
“Depends on what?”
Gray smirked, his eyes positively twinkling. “If I’m in the mood.”
I coughed into my drink and wrinkled my nose. “That’s so…”
“Confident?” he suggested.
Instead of getting offended, I found myself laughing. I wasn’t wrong. The man was arrogant, though it wasn’t necessarily bad. “That’s one way of putting it.”
He chuckled, then opened his mouth as if to say more. But the words were interrupted when a female voice floated in the air, and our attention was suddenly on her.
“Excuse me…aren’t you Gray Denton?”
The woman was tall, willowy and had a cloud of hair that looked fluffy and silky at the same time. She was dressed to impress in a sparkly silver dress, and her eyes practically devoured Gray from head to foot. Fascinated, I watched as Gray glanced at her face first, meeting her eyes and giving her a charming, almost polite smile.
“That would be me,” he replied.
“Oh, great!” the woman practically purred. “My name’s Valerie, and I’m such a big fan.”
I inwardly scoffed. If she was such a big fan, then why did she have to ask who he was? Gray seemed to buy it, though, smiling wider.
“Thanks.”
“I actually wanted to ask you some…tips,” she murmured. “About the car and all.” The woman glanced at me, eyeing me subtly. “You’re not on a date, are you?”
Smooth. Deciding not to…interrupt whatever this was, I shook my head. “No. We’re friends.”
Gray glanced at me in surprise at the word. Then a smile broke out as if he were pleased that we were friends. I was surprised myself. But there was just something about him that had me opening up and becoming comfortable. Maybe it was the fact that he was obviously not attracted to me and trying to get in my pants, giving me more freedom to be myself and not put up an act in front of him.
The woman, Valerie, eyed his smile like some kind of predator, and I had to stifle a snicker and hide my knowing smile in my drink. She flirted as boldly as she could until Gray finally relented and let her take him to see to that car tip she needed—a lame ploy if I did say so myself, though it obviously worked. I watched as they excused themselves, with Gray telling me he’d be back in a bit and not to drink too much. Right. Valerie gave me the evil eye, and I knew what she had in mind—that Gray coming back here would be over her dead body.
God. He really was popular with the ladies.
Once they were gone, I nursed my drink and decided to order some fries. Then I looked around the bar, watching as the same kind of flirting that happened between Gray and Valerie also went on around, especially on the couches in the dark corners. This appeared to be the place to go for gorgeous mature adults to come to hook up. Something that felt like envy went through me, wishing I could be as sophisticated as these women and not stumble all over my words whenever some cute guy approached me. But then again, college had been all about studies, and then Kyle came into the picture to blow me away with his kind words and charming, boyish personality.
What a lie that had been.
A flash of irritation hit me that I was thinking about it again. Shaking my head, I decided to distract myself with the fresh fries in front of me as well as the conversation and music going on around me. Gray’s name suddenly caught my ear, and I kept my gaze focused on my drink as I listened. It was faint at first, the voices barely a murmur, but after a few seconds, the music lowered down enough for me to hear what the two females were saying.
“Valerie is so lucky,” the first woman said, sighing. She was standing right behind me, and I could tell she was trying to whisper—but with the noise going on around, she pretty much had to shout to whoever she was talking to. “I mean, that was Gray Denton. He’s such a hot piece of bod.”
“He’s yummy,” the other woman agreed. “I just wonder if all the rumors are true about him.”
“Oh, I bet they’re true,” the first woman said. “I mean, why would it be all over online if it isn’t true?”
What was all over online?
Their topic switched to Valerie, again talking about how lucky she was. My ears strained as Gray was mentioned yet again.
“He’s filthy rich, he’s hot as candy, and he has women lining up for him—literally. But he never brags about it, and it’s the media who always catches the pictures. Or the ladies who brag about how they gave him such a good time.”
“Yeah. But who could resist riding in that car? I heard it’s the only place he ever has sex with a woman, and all of them can’t wait to ride him in the backseat.”
“Or the front seat.”
The women giggled. My hand froze on a fry.
“He must be really good with fucking if they keep coming back for more. Valerie certainly wants to test that theory.”
“You know what I heard, though?”
“What?”
“That he doesn’t even have sex. He just has women giving him blowjobs and pleasures them in return using his tongue.”
I choked on my drink and had to hide the sound with my hand. The women either didn’t hear me or just didn’t care as they continued to talk about stuff that had my eyes widening—Gray’s sexual conquest, his car preference, his rumored large cock.
Oh, my, God.
My neck felt hot as they began to talk about sexual techniques and all the things they wanted to do with Gray. By the time they were gone, my ears were ringing and my heart was pounding loudly. I had sex with Kyle, of course—we were together for three years, after all. My first time with him had been less than enjoyable, as I hadn’t been prepared and hadn’t really gotten wet during the foreplay. The next few times were better, as we learned about each other’s bodies and explored what felt good. But it was nothing to write home about, as the pleasure was fleeting and quick. I never climaxed. It was something that, in the beginning, would bother Kyle and had him trying again to no avail. The last few months, though, were just painful, as I was half-afraid of doing something that would offend him and he’d end up just forcing me to do something I didn’t want. He never did, but there were times when he was on the verge, and I just had to convince him not to and please him first.
God. It was such a stupid cycle, and I’d been so stupid for sticking with him for so long without realizing the warning signs. But that was a lesson learned—and like Paul always reminded me, I should move forward instead of looking back.
The way these women described sex made it sound like it was the best thing on the planet and the one thing to look forward to when flirting with a hot, sexy man. It had me wondering what I was missing out on and what else there was to explore. I’d always been curious, but that curiosity died with my relationship with Kyle.
Or maybe I just hadn’t found a man I wanted to do it with again.
I knew that time would come soon enough.
Suddenly curious, I took out my phone. Unable to resist, I searched around until I found exactly what the women were talking about: photos of Gray splashed all over the tabloids, each photo with a different woman in his arm. There were some that were innocent enough, but there were others that were more than racy, with some women’s faces blurred but their body language showing their ecstasy.
And it was always inside his car—the car he used to take us to the bar.
Oh. My. God.
So he really only did it in the car?
That was weird. In fact, it was so weird that I didn’t know what to say or how to react. But in the end, i
t was none of my business, so I decided to leave it alone and let him have his fun. Like he said before, he didn’t have to seek out women. With how they were throwing themselves at him, he was not short of options. Plus we were getting along well, so there was that.
Because there was nothing to do and I was getting pretty lonely, I decided to order more margaritas for myself, along with a cheeseburger.
Gray could have his fun.
I was going to do my own version.
CHAPTER NINE
KATE
I shouldn’t have had that 3rd margarita.
Seriously, I shouldn’t have.
It was safe to say that I wasn’t ready for it, nor was I ready for drinking in general. But the cheeseburger made me thirsty, and the margarita tasted so good that I couldn’t resist ordering another…then another…
Realizing that I was about to get roaring drunk if I didn’t stop, I paid my bill and immediately stumbled out of there, thinking that getting out of the bar and getting some sea breeze in would help me feel so much better.
Now, I was inwardly cursing myself and trying to walk straight as I felt dizzy and almost…free. Did I actually think it was a good idea to get some sea breeze? All I wanted to do was to lie down and get my bearings.
Get some ice cream, too. Yum.
The thought made my mouth water. I sniffed around and tried to get that damnable breeze, but found myself only sniffing the bar’s distinctive smell—and the margaritas. Puzzled, I looked around and discovered that I was walking down the opposite side of the road where the beach was, and I should be on the other side. I muttered to myself and tried to cross the street, thankful that there were no cars around. I sniffed again, slightly satisfied that I could now smell it. It didn’t do anything for my state, though.
Dimly, I thought of Gray and wondered how he and that Valerie woman were faring. They were probably getting it on in the car as of this moment, and some stalking paparazzi was probably on standby somewhere ready to take pictures. The image had me giggling. The sea breeze blew harder for a few seconds, making me shiver. It was getting cold, and some squinting determined that the apartment building was still a few blocks away.