Page 74 of Paradise & Vodka

My grin widened. "Thank you. You're stunning yourself." I gave her a hug. I always opened with a compliment about their looks to put them at ease. It would roll off my tongue even if it wasn't true. I was good at lying.

There wasn't a seat open for me to take, but I didn't mind. I leaned against the bar top casually and faced Angie. "Do you come to Vegas often?"

"Not anymore. When I was in my twenties, I would come at least once a year."

"What brings you to town now?"

"I recently got divorced and wanted to"—she shrugged—"let loose."

The bartender approached. "What can I get ya?"

"Salty dog with Tito's and"—I pointed at Angie's drink—"What are you having?"

"Just a vodka cranberry."

I hesitated for a split second, remembering that was what Ashleigh liked to drink, and then ordered for Angie. "And another vodka cranberry."

The bartender started to make our drinks, and Angie asked, "What's a salty dog?"

"Vodka—or gin—and grapefruit with salt on the rim."

"Oh, man. I thought a vodka and cranberry was sour. I can't imagine grapefruit juice."

"I think it's sweeter, actually."

"Really?"

I nodded as the bartender slid my drink in front of me. I picked it up and held the straw out to Angie. "Here, try it."

She took the straw between her lips, and usually, I would watch, pretending I was getting turned on in some way, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw a tall brunette. I turned my head, and for a moment, I thought it was Ashleigh. I shook my head slightly and turned my attention back to Angie.

"Oh, that is good."

"Want it?"

"Really?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, I'll just order another one."

"Okay." She beamed.

I was dodging a bullet by switching her drink because it seemed, even out with another date, I was thinking about Ashleigh. No way could I watch my date drink the same drink and ultimately taste like the same drink.

"So, you got divorced, and now you want to be wild and free?" I asked while waiting for my new drink.

"Yeah, that's the plan."

"How long were you married?"

"Twenty-three years."

I blinked. "How? You can't be older than twenty-nine."

Angie chuckled. "I'm actually forty-two."

I did the math. "So, you got married at nineteen?"

"I did."