Kendra pulled him by the wrist until they’d wedged into a pack of bar patrons. She slid in front of him, boldly pushing her ass into his crotch as she leaned over the bar. He chuckled under his breath. Twenty-somethings were almost too easy these days. Pick them up in a car that you paid for yourself and had a full tank of gas, and they were putty in your hands. The fact that they were so easily impressed by self-sufficiency probably said more about the state of the economy than it did his own worthiness, but he’d take it.
Kendra ordered something he couldn’t hear, and he threw his credit card down on the bar, circling his finger to tell the bartender to keep a tab open. Minutes later, they each had a glass of something blue and were pressed against each other, and about a hundred other people, on the dance floor.
“So you design buildings?” she shouted over the bass. Kendra had immigrated here from the UK and her accent made everything she said sound like Mary Poppins, even while she ran her fingers over the buckle of his belt, her hips swaying. The dichotomy was sexy as hell.
“No,” he shouted back. “I get the business, convince developers to hire our firm to design the buildings.”
She offered him something like a confused pout but dropped it. “I want to own my own business someday. I’ve been a stylist for years, but it’s something else to do it for yourself.”
“Sure.”
“How did you get started on your own?”
Dylan drank his Blue Curacao, his self-respect wincing with each sip. “My partner actually had the idea to go into business for ourselves. And, you know, he planned it all out. He handles the details.”
Way to impress her, Dylan.
It wasn’t like he didn’t participate. He and Josh each had their own strengths. That’s why they worked so well together. It just happened that responsibility for running a business was one of Josh’s strengths, and making them a lot of money was Dylan’s. Still, the comparisons kicked at him.
“Maybe I can talk to him some time,” Kendra said. “Your friend. Pick his brain. I can cut his hair in exchange.” She smiled, separating from his hold long enough to pull a business card out of her clutch. She tucked it in the hand that had just been halfway to its goal of cupping her ass.
“Yeah, sure.” Dylan held up the card and forced a grin before shoving it in his pocket. When he did, he felt his cell buzz and pulled it out. He barely had enough elbow room to angle the screen to his face, but when he saw the text, his grin stretched.
Dani: No soulmate tonight. Guess you’re stuck with me for a few more weeks.
Dylan gestured with his head and Kendra followed him off the dance floor. “I have to hit the men’s room,” he said. He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. “I’ll be right back, sweetheart.”
He rounded the corner to the hallway where the bathrooms were, setting his drink on top of a condom dispenser.
Dylan: Can’t say I’m disappointed.
Dani: And here I thought you were the supportive type.
Dylan: I fully support a long and thorough journey for you to find The One, Dani-pie.
Dani: Since it looks like you might get your wish, should we say next weekend? Same time, same place?
Dylan: It’s a date, but I’ll see you before then. Thursday? Minnie’s party.
Three little dots appeared, then disappeared, and for some reason his heart had traveled to his throat to wait for her response.
Dani: Right. Two dates then. See you Thursday.
Dylan: See you Thursday, Dani-pie.
When he pushed out of the men’s room, Kendra was waiting for him. “This place is kind of loud,” he said, cringing at the way he’d suddenly become his mother. “You wanna go somewhere else?”
Kendra licked the gloss on her lips and smiled. “How about my place?”
Dylan was about to drop his drink on the nearest table and remote start his car when the weight of his phone in his pocket stopped him.
Right. The rules.
“Sorry, sweetheart. I have an early morning so I have to sleep at home tonight. I was thinking more like another bar.”
Kendra gave him a what the fuck look and he almost agreed with her. He couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. But eight dates with Dani? He’d be an idiot to give that up.
“Suit yourself,” she said, turning on her stiletto.
He really hoped that’s what he was doing.
Thirteen
“You look pretty.” Cat leaned over her ginger-ale, touching the sleeve of Dani’s blouse.
It was Thursday night and they were squeezed into a shiplap booth at The Swell—a trendy seaside bar with exposed-brick walls and wavy glass windows. Shawn had rented the entire upstairs lounge for Minnie’s birthday party.
“Thanks,” Dani said. “You look cute too.” Cat had on a white sundress and gold sandals. Her hair was in a huge bun on top of her head. She looked more alive than she had on the Fourth. Or at least she didn’t look like she was about to pass out. Her cheeks were still pale though, and she was still sipping soda and picking at her food. So much so that Josh had gone back to the buffet to try and find her something else she might like better. He seemed to be doting on her more than usual. Since when could she not get her own food at a party? It was weird.
He came back with a plate of crackers and cheese and slid in beside Cat. Cat snuggled into his side, practically in his lap, and Dani had a vision of her teenage years—sitting at dinner across from her mother and her step-father, scrolling through her texts while they ignored her.
She pulled out her phone now, figuring it was a good opportunity to add to her embarrassing photo collection. The party was in its second hour. People would be getting messy. Shawn was already on the dance floor wearing a pink party hat and a t-shirt that said “It’s my party and I’ll puke if I want to.”
Perfect.
She snapped a picture and saved it just as a text came in.
Dylan: Hey, gorgeous. Come here often?
Dani smiled and looked around the room for him. He’d been bouncing from table to table since he’d arrived forty-five minutes late, in a pair of jeans that did him all sorts of favors and a white t-shirt that she was sure had a designer label stitched on the inside despite the casual look.
Now, she spotted him in line for booze. He had his elbows propped on the long wood and brass bar, his head tilted to one side. She could just picture the smile he was wearing—one side of his mouth tugged higher than the other, dimples popping, teeth bared.
Dani was feeling amused at how well she knew him, until a busty redhead appeared from behind the bar, setting down a pint glass in front of him and batting her eyes. She popped the cap off a bottle and poured it like someone was tucking dollar bills in her thong. Kind of unprofessional. This was a family event. Shawn and Minnie’s son was here.