Page 3 of Fore Better or Worse (Return to Starlight Bay #16)

Chapter three

Leah

S exy as hell?

I blink at him, dumbfounded. No one in the history of ever has described anything I’ve said, let alone done, using those words. Especially not my ex. And now he’s complimenting my dress like he actually means it, too.

The praise sends an odd little thrill through my chest, a sensation I definitely shouldn’t feel from a stranger’s compliment. I clear my throat, trying to ignore the way my pulse just kicked up a notch.

“Rum and Coke and a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon,” the bartender interrupts, setting the drinks on the bar. “That will be twenty-eight dollars.”

“Add it to my tab,” Mr. Flirty-pants says immediately.

“Absolutely not.” I’m already pulling my card from my phone case. “I can buy my own drinks.”

He looks genuinely surprised, as if the concept of a woman paying her own way is a foreign concept. Which it probably is, considering his obvious confidence and those dimples that could charm the habit off a nun.

“Consider it a birthday present,” he protests, but I’m already tapping my card to the reader.

“Thank you, but I’ve got it. Really.” I add a tip and tuck my card away.

His lips press together, but he doesn’t argue. However, he does study me with renewed interest. “Is yours the rum and Coke or the non-aggressively cheerful wine?”

I wince then raise the tumbler. “Eighty proof and a dose of caffeine are what’s going to get me through the next two and a half hours.”

“Well, then, don’t let me get in your way. By all means, enjoy.” He gestures toward my glass “Especially because I heard you order before we met, so I know I’m not the cause for your needing a stiff drink.”

The observation catches me off guard. “No,” I admit, processing the fact Hays Granger was listening. Paying attention to details most people would miss. “You’re not the cause.”

This seems to please him, and I’m rewarded with a sincere smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. For a moment, the easy banter fades, and something more genuine passes between us. Something that makes my pulse quicken in a way that has nothing to do with caffeine.

But I need to go.

“Happy belated birthday,” I offer, grabbing the wine and turning to leave before I start to wish this was more than a conversation he’s likely to forget before dessert is served.

He leans close enough I catch a whiff of expensive and tempting cologne. “Thank you.”

I spin to head back upstairs, already considering how I’ll describe this encounter to Tabitha, then curiosity gets the better of me. I turn back, wrinkles crisscrossing my brow and glance around. “You’re not here celebrating your special day alone, are you?”

Something in my tone must suggest I’m concerned about him being lonely, because he shakes his head. “No, I’m here on a mission.”

A mission?

“And here I was, thinking we were past the cheesy pickup lines.”

A deep chuckle. “I’m glad to hear you think so, but I promise it’s not.

” He holds up both hands in mock innocence.

“My brother’s planned an epic proposal to his girlfriend on this dinner cruise.

I came to run covert ops and lend the assist, along with my buddy, Rory.

Right now, I’m checking on the champagne on ice. ”

My nose wrinkles. “Your brother needs a wingman to propose?”

A casual shrug. “I was in the area, and we’ve always been close. I told him I’d be here to handle the details and ensure everything goes off without a hitch. And to capture the moment, of course.”

His obvious devotion to his brother’s happiness is endearing. But, given my first impression of this man, it doesn’t add up. It’s my turn to lean in and lower my voice. “No offense, but you don’t seem like a very detail-oriented kind of guy.”

The observation earns me a wide, devastating grin. “None taken. That’s what I have Rory for. That, and to keep me on track when beautiful women threaten to derail my focus.”

“This Rory doesn’t seem very good at his job.”

The twinkle in his eyes tells me he’s enjoying our banter as much as I am. “Usually, he’s exceptional, but at the moment, I’m grateful he’s not checking up on me.”

The implication hangs between us, heavy with possibility. I should address it, deflect with humor or walk away, going back to my surprise party. Instead, I can’t help but follow the thread. “I’m assuming this proposal is supposed to be a secret, no?”

“It is.”

“And you’ve just told a complete stranger about it.”

“Meaning?”

“Perhaps, you’re not the most reliable covert operative.”

He draws back and throws his hands up in surrender. “What can I say? Gorgeous, dark-eyed beauties who call me on my shit are apparently my kryptonite. Though, technically, we’re not complete strangers. We’re established birthday buddies, remember?”

“Birthday buddies,” I repeat, testing the phrase. “I suppose that’s one way to classify our relationship . Though, I could argue the coincidence of a two-days apart birthdate hardly constitutes a foundation for trust.”

“Fair point. But I’m working on building that trust.” He leans a hip against the bar. Again, I’m struck by how at ease he is in his own skin. But more surprisingly, how comfortable I feel around him. “Besides, you look trustworthy. And you’re clearly brilliant.”

“Which might explain why I’m hesitant to trust a charming stranger who spills family secrets within five minutes of meeting someone.”

“Charming, huh?” The lethal grin returns. “You keep paying me compliments like that, and I’ll start believing my dreams are coming true.”

“Your dreams?”

“That you actually like me, too.”

Too?

I can’t help the smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

But this is dangerous territory. Flirting with a gorgeous, cocky guy, full of his easy charm and some seriously sexy dimples, when I’m ignoring my actual friends upstairs isn’t my usual M.O.

Mostly, because in no reality is this even remotely close to my normal Friday night.

“I should get back to my friends before they send out a search party.”

“Same.” He glances toward the stairs then back at me. “Though I have to say, this has been the highlight of my evening.”

Before I can respond, or do something stupid like agree with him, I force myself to walk away. But I sense his gaze following me. All the way until I’m out of sight.