Page 9 of Worth Loving
“You’re a hundred percent correct,” she said.
A few hours later, she was still sitting at his bar having moved on to seltzer after her wine. If she was waiting to see if she was sober enough to drive home, he could have assured her she was.
“No work tomorrow?” he asked, as the bar thinned out. Might as well chat her up since he found her more interesting than most who sat at his bar and flirted with him. Not that she was flirting. At least from what he could tell.
He could have snuck out an hour ago and been home and relieved Carly, but something was keeping him here. And since Carly only had to walk through the garage to get home and was probably watching TV, she wouldn’t care.
He paid her well enough not to.
“I’ve got to work,” she said. “I wish I didn’t, but I’m trying to figure out what to say to my friend who set me up. We work together. By staying here I can ignore her texts asking me how it’s going and she’ll think I’m still out. Technically, I am.”
So she didn’t want to be dishonest to someone. Interesting. “Must not be that good of a friend to set you up with someone you had to ditch that early into the date. Mind if I ask what he did?”
“I’m not sure where to start,” she said. “I heard all about his childhood. Then he moved on to how great his life was. He bragged or talked up everything in his life. At one point, after he’d said how wonderful his life was for the fourth time, I was going to ask if his therapist told him he had to say it to himself a certain number of times a day to actually believe it.”
His lips lifted in a smirk. “Sounds like a dick.”
“And speaking of that. He kept mentioning how the ladies commented on his size,” she said, holding her fingers up and making little quote signs.
“Did you ask him if the comments were about how big or small he was?”
“I wish I’d thought to. At that point I just wanted out of there.”
“So you left to use the bathroom?” he asked.
“Not yet. It wasn’t until he told me he’d stopped at the drugstore before he got to the restaurant. I thought for sure he was going to mention getting a box of condoms. That might have been better than telling me he’d grabbed a few little blue pills.”
He shook his head. “I bet the ladies commented on his limp dick, which he couldn’t very well say to you.”
“I’m willing to bet it. Anyway, he didn’t seem to even notice I wasn’t all that into him. He’s probably still sitting at the table waiting for me. I wonder if he thinks I ate something rotten.” She rolled her eyes. “Sorry, that was uncalled for. Must be the wine.”
“The wine you drank three hours ago,” he said.
“What?” She pulled her phone out and looked. “I didn’t realize how late it was. What do I owe you? You haven’t given me a tab yet.”
He moved to the computer and printed it out, then handed it over. She reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet, then credit card, and passed it to him. He returned it with a pen. “Molly Clarke,” he said, “it was nice to spend the night chatting with you.”
She scribbled her name and pushed the receipt over, then slipped her card into her purse. “You too. And your name?”
“Dean Easton. And maybe I’ll see you around here again.”
“Maybe you will,” she said, smiling back, then got up and walked out of his bar, her body all smooth and flowy, his eyes going to her ass and admiring it as much as he did her chest.
The minute she was out the door, he turned to Sheila, his night manager. “I’m out of here.”
“I knew it,” Sheila said.
“Knew what?”
“That you only stuck around for the redhead. Been a while since you’ve done that.”
He snorted. “I don’t even want to think about that. I’ve got other things to spend my time and energy on.”
“Go relieve Carly,” Sheila said. “And give that little man a kiss for me when you check in on him before you climb into bed.”
“Will do.”
Sad that is what his night consisted of.
