Scott would have done the exact same thing if he’d been that bartender—it would have been impossible not to.
Did she know what she was doing?
She had to. She didn’t strike him as a bimbo, just a woman who knew how to get what she wanted, how to work it.
And there was nothing wrong with working what the good lord gave you. Scott worked his megawatt smile more times than he could count, to charm a waitress or barista into giving him extra fries with his burger or an extra shot of espresso in his coffee.
“I’ll have a tequila, please. Añjeo or extra añjeo on the rocks, if you have it.” The bartender nodded. Scott had quietly followed her to the bar and was now beside her. “What are you drinking?” she asked.
“Whiskey.”
She nodded. “And a whiskey for my hero, here.” She glanced back at Scott, her smile wide, sexy and her eyes teasing.
What was she up to?
Moments later they had their drinks, and with Eva leading Scott like another dog with a bone, they managed to find a small section on a cushioned bench away from the crowd.
“You didn’t have to buy me a drink,” he said, taking a sip of his new whiskey.
She sipped her tequila and shrugged. “Like I said, I’m avoiding going back to those drunk-ass, marriage-loving women and their stupid crowns, leis and sashes.” She rolled her eyes. “Thank God I’m not in the wedding party.”
“How do you know the bride?”
She shrugged again. “Friend since beauty school.”
“Beauty school?”
She nodded. “Yeah, I’m a hairdresser and aesthetician.”
Well, that explained why she was walking, talking perfection. The woman knew how to take care of herself. Though Scott would put money on her looking gorgeous without an ounce of makeup on too.
“What do you do?”
“I’m in advertising.”
She nodded again, then began to bob her head in time with the beat of the music.
Then the conversation ended.
The air between them began to grow awkward.
He didn’t know this woman enough to like her, but he certainly found her hot, and what he’d met so far, he liked. Now he just had to figure out a way to charm her into wanting to ditch her party completely and maybe go grab a slice of pizza with him down the block or something. His stomach rumbled at the thought of Guy’s Pies. Best pizza by the slice in the entire city.
He took another sip of his drink and cleared his throat. “So uh … what do you think of my hair? You being a hairdresser and all. Am I an abomination?” He cringed.
Seriously? Wasn’t that like asking a stranger who’d just revealed they were a doctor to take a look at a mysterious mole on your back? He even had doctor friends, and he never asked them for medical advice. He asked his brother for legal advice, but when there’s a lawyer in the family, why wouldn’t you milk that cow?
Her smile was slow but sexy as hell. She lifted her hand from her lap and ran her fingers through his hair over and over again until he closed his eyes from just how good it felt.
If she brought out those nails and scraped his scalp, he was not to blame if his leg started to kick and shake uncontrollably.
“You have great hair,” she finally said, causing him to open his eyes again. Her gaze was soft and appraising, her smile sweet. “It’s nice and thick, soft. You’ve got a great hairline too.” She tugged at the sides.
“Yeah? What would you do to it if I gave you carte blanche?”
Her eyebrows twitched up a bit. “Carte blanche?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
She raked her top teeth over her bottom lip, continuing to run her fingers through his hair. She set her drink down and added the fingers from her other hand, turning her body so they were now face-to-face. She tilted his head down so he was forced to stare directly down her blouse into her cleavage. He knew he should shut his eyes, but he just couldn’t. It was like staring at an eclipse—so damn beautiful, but it might very well get him in some major trouble too.
“Honestly, I don’t think I’d do much,” she said. “Maybe go a bit shorter on the sides, tidy up the back of your neck a little, but whoever you see does a pretty good job.”
“I see an eighty-three-year old barber down by Beechers Cheese. The guy takes nearly an hour to cut my hair, but he does a good job.”
She chuckled, and oh, what a laugh. It was deep and throaty and sexy as fuck. She still hadn’t stopped running her fingers through his hair. “A bit of silver on the sides here, huh?”
He nodded. “Yeah, starting to get some.”
Her touch was strong but gentle. Confident but curious. “But not too much. I’m guessing the men in your family all have their hair, but they went gray early?”
His head bobbed again, in awe of this woman and the pure magic her hands wielded. He was putty. She could pet him like that all night long and he’d lay like a chocolate lab at her feet. “Uh, yeah. My dad started going gray by the time he was forty, my grandpa too. My dad’s more salt than pepper now, but both gramps are combing tinsel.”
She chuckled that raspy laugh again. “I like that term. You’re cute.” She still hadn’t released his hair.
He hoped she never did.
“You’re beautiful.”
Eventually, unfortunately, she pulled her hands from his hair and batted long, dark lashes at him as she ducked her head, her smile coy and slightly hidden. “Thank you.” She lifted her head again, her gaze settling on him. “Full disclosure?”
You’re a hooker and this is all an elaborate ruse?
“Sure.”
She took a deep breath, which only amplified her killer rack. The buttons on her emerald-green silk sleeveless blouse strained against her inhale. Scott did everything in his power not to stare.
He was weak. It was impossible.
“It’s my first night away from my kids in … ” She shook her head and blew out a breath in exasperation. “God, I don’t know how long. So it’s been a while. I just signed the papers last month finalizing a very ugly, very messy, very painful divorce, and my kids are with my sister and her fourteen-year-old daughter. It’s the first night where my children have been okay being away from me overnight. We’ve tried a few times, but my little guy—Kellen, he’s five—gets upset when I leave. But I needed a night out … desperately. We’re moving out of my sister’s place in a few weeks, as I finally bought my own house now that the divorce has gone through.” Her eyes turned sad. “It’s been tough on my boys.” A wary glint invaded the sadness in the dark flecks of yellow around her irises as she waited for Scott to reply.
All he did was nod, and hope that his small smile and eyes conveyed his understanding and sympathy. She had no reason to be wary of him or his reaction to her honesty, to her plight. He’d been there himself and knew how hard a divorce could be on everyone involved—especially the kids. He took a leap of faith and rested his hand on her arm. “Been through a messy divorce myself. I have a son, and I totally get where you’re coming from right now. It’s hard on the kids. It’s hard on everyone.”
If she thought that her declaration was going to turn him off, she couldn’t be further from wrong. If anything, her honesty, her openness just made her more intriguing. She had wounds and scars just like him. She was human.