“If I say hi to her ...” I let my sentence dissolve. I can’t explain this to Allison. She’s been my PA for three years now, and we’ve never once discussed my sex life. Besides, I’m not sure I can give her a PG-13 rundown of the way this works. If I stop what I’m doing and say hi to Ayla, then that would mean we’re officially acquaintances, and I don’t want to be her acquaintance. I want to be some random guy she fucked on some random weekday. “It’s complicated, Allison.”
I take a drink of my whiskey, letting my eyes linger in Ayla’s direction. Her friend is quite animated, swooshing her arms through the air when she talks and widening her eyes. It must be exhausting listening to her tell a story, but there’s Ayla, tuned in like a champ.
God bless her.
Allison swivels in her seat, facing me as she licks sugar off the rim of her martini glass. “This is really good, by the way.”
“Glad you like it.”
I steal a quick glance over Allison’s shoulder because apparently I’m incapable of restraining myself tonight, only this time I’m met with two sets of curious eyes.
I’ve been spotted.
Ayla shifts in her seat, her eyes moving to the back of Allison’s head, then to me, then the drink in her hand. Her friend gives me a dirty look.
Whoa, whoa, whoa.
It’s not like I’m dating Ayla. And it’s not like I’m here with some chick despite the fact that that’s exactly what it looks like.
“Boss, I’m going to use the ladies’ room,” Allison squeaks, hopping down from the seat. “Be right back.”
Ayla and her friend watch Allison leave, and then Ayla angles her body so I can’t see her face anymore. Is she pissed? And more importantly, why does it bother me?
Exhaling, I take another sip of whiskey and gather my composure. I have nothing to prove, and I don’t owe her a damn thing, but I wouldn’t mind walking out of here tonight with the same amount of integrity I showed up with.
I’m not a man whore. Maybe I was a few years back, when I was a rookie in the NHL and a multi-million-dollar contract landed in my lap, making me feel like the king of the world for a good six months.
But not anymore.
I decide to finish my drink and go say hello. It’s the proper thing to do now that I’ve been spotted.
I’m working on my last sip when there’s a sharp tap on my right shoulder.
“You going to say hello, or you just going to sit here like you didn’t just totally eye fuck me while your date is in the ladies’ room?” Ayla asks.
I hate that she beat me to it.
Once again, I look like the pathetic one here.
“Eye fucking? Is that what you kids are calling it these days?” I ask, and she rolls her eyes, swatting my arm. “I could have sworn you were glaring. I had no idea you were trying to be sexy.”
“Anyway.” She eyes the restroom sign, like she’s expecting Allison to emerge any moment. “Just wanted to be the bigger person and come and say hi.”
“Don’t commend yourself just yet. I was about to make my way over there. Wanted to finish my drink first.”
“Mm, hm.” She fights a smile, and I expect her to give me shit about my “date” any second now, and I’m going to take great pleasure in proving her wrong. “Alrighty, take care now.”
Ayla gives a quick wave before returning to her friend, and they seem to pick up their conversation exactly where they left off. They aren’t pointing or looking at me or pretending not to talk about me when it’s clear they are.
I’m completely off her radar.
She couldn’t care less.
I’m not an insecure man by any stretch of the imagination. I’m not a man who generally gives a shit about what other people think or a man who judges his sexual prowess on how many girls can’t keep their hands off him in any given month. But I’ll be damned if my ego isn’t slightly bruised right now.
Was that ... was that a pity fuck this morning?
I drag my hands through my hair. Jesus. I bet she knows who I am. I bet she knows all about what happened. And I bet she only fucked me because she felt bad for me.
“Everything okay?” Allison is back. Her eyes are a little less glazed, her spirit a little brighter as evidenced by the slow smile on her face. “These drinks are starting to kick in. Guess this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.”
“Allison, give me a second. I’ll be right back.”
“Of course.” She offers a gracious smile and lifts her glass to her mouth.
Within seconds I’m halfway across the bar, laser focused on my target.
Ten
Ayla
* * *
“Ayla.” His voice severs our girl talk and causes Bostyn to scowl.
Spinning to face him, I try not to gloat because something about this feels like a victory. He’s coming to me. He’s chasing me. He wants me.
“Yes?” I ask.
He hooks his hand into my elbow and pulls me off the bar stool like some Neanderthal, leading me to a quiet corner of the bar between two empty tables with flickering candles.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“That was a pity fuck this morning, wasn’t it?” he asks.
I chuff. “I don’t screw people out of pity, so no. It wasn’t a pity fuck.”
He studies my face. I think my answer pleases him.
“Is that all this is about?” I ask.
Rhett exhales. Apparently the cat’s got his tongue.
“I want to see you again,” he says after a bout of silence.
My eyes move to the mousy girl sitting across the bar nursing a lemon drop martini, and my jaw hinges.
“Seriously?” I ask, arms folding. “You just left your date over there by herself so you could march over here and tell me you want to fuck me again ... and you expect me to say yes to that?”
His full mouth turns up at one side and he laughs through his nose. “I’m not on a date.”
Rolling my eyes, I say, “Sure. Whatever you say. But I’m not going to hook up with you again, so don’t waste your time.”
“She’s my assistant,” he says, his words colored in frustration. “She just got dumped. I’m taking her out for drinks, getting her wasted, and giving her the next couple of days off.”
“Oh.” I glance her way again. I’ve yet to see her face since I’ve been here, but I vaguely recall bumping into a girl similar in size this morning when I was dropping off his phone charger.
“Right.” He blows a firm breath through his nostrils. “Anyway, like I was saying, I want to see you again.”
“Why?”
He laughs. “You’re asking why?”
“Yes. Why?”
“What the hell am I supposed to say to that?”
“I’m not looking for a boyfriend,” I blurt.
“I’m not looking to be anybody’s boyfriend.”
“Then what do you want from me?”
He moves closer, closing the space between us and just barely cupping his hand to my cheek.
“I had fun with you this morning,” he says, letting his hand fall. “I’m just looking for a little more of ... that.”