Page 28 of The Token Yank

“And you could get under him in themeantime.”

“That’s a terrible idea.” Rafe wasn’t going to mess with a guy with a fragile heart. Eamonn was a genuinely good guy, not worth getting ensnared in Operation:Slut.

As if luck was shining down on him, a gay guy with a patch of freckles across his nose came up to the bar to order a drink. His body fit well in those tightjeans.

“I have a better idea.Pardon e moi,” he said to Louisa. He nudged his head slightly so she knew who he was talkingabout.

“He’s cute!” She winked athim.

Rafe downed the rest of his drink and casually strolled over to Freckles, dragging his finger along the bar. He had this. He could do this. The nerves pouncing through his system would be channeled into wittybanter.

“Hey,” Rafe said. “I bet I can guess what you’re going toorder.”

“You can?” Freckles asked, seemingly interested. He had lovely teeth. Rafe didn’t get where the bad teeth stereotype came from, but it was seriouslyoutdated.

“Give me three guesses. If I get it wrong, I’ll buy you a drink. If I get it right, I’ll buy you that drink and we’ll keeptalking.”

“Fairenough.”

“Hmmm…” Rafe rubbed his temples, pretending to be using psychic powers to determine the right answer. “You seem like a hard alcohol kind of guy. You don’t mess around. So I am going to say…vodkacranberry.”

“Wrong.”

“That was just a warm up. I still have two more guesses, and I going to blow your mind.” Rafe rubbed his temples again and closed his eyes. “The universe is telling me that you were about to order a…vodkasoda.”

“Wrong.”

Freckles wasn’t giving him much to work with. He was taking this way too literally. Rafe had one more guess, and the stakes never felt higher. His sexual viability hung in thebalance.

“I think you’re throwing me for a curveball and you really are a beer drinker. So that’s why I’m positive…that you are ordering aGuinness!”

“Wrong.” Freckles remained stubbornly monotone. The bartender came over. “I’ll take a Pimm’s Cup. He’s paying.” Freckles nodded his head atRafe.

It was a sign of life that maybe Rafe had achance.

“I’ll take one, too,” Rafe said. “So maybe I’m not psychic. But I have a very good memory, like Truman Capote. He could recall entire conversations, which is how he wroteIn Cold Blood. Although there have been rumors that he fabricated events…” Rafe’s fingers brushed along the edge of the guy’s hand. It was a sly, stage-one flirting move. Low stakes but a potential gateway tomore.

“Right, so I’m straight, actually,” Frecklessaid.

“What? Why didn’t you sayanything?”

“I’m saying somethingnow.”

“After you let me buy you adrink.”

“I thought you were just beingfriendly.”

“But your jeans are really tight.” Rafepointed.

“I’m proud of mybody.”

The bartender returned with their drinks. He swiped his lightningfast.

“Thanks for the drink, mate.” Freckles was gone, back to his friends at a hightable.

Eamonn

“That’s the third shot you missed. I knew we should’ve bet money on this game,” Heath said. He surveyed the snooker table like a cat scoping out amouse.