Trying to be cool, Luna raised her eyebrows at Suit.
He smiled kindly. “I used to have panic attacks as a kid.”
“Oh, this isn’t a panic attack.” Wow. Such a liar tonight. She inhaled for a four count, then held for seven. Released for eight . . . except she couldn’t exhale for that long, so she went back to inhaling.
“Slower.” His voice was low and calm as he sat down on the barstool next to her. “Otherwise you’ll need a paper bag, or worse, chest compressions.”
“Another drink and I might take you up on that,” she quipped, her smart-ass mouth taking over, as it always did when she was feeling awkward.
Which was a lot.
His mouth quirked up on one side. “The paper bag or the chest compressions?”
She choked on her inhale. She reached for her drink, but it was empty, and Willow had taken the pitcher with her . . .
Suit gestured for the bartender. “Two more of whatever she’s having.”
She looked at him. “You’re going to drink a Hawaiian margarita with an umbrella?”
He shrugged. “I’m gender secure.”
This tugged a laugh out of her. He was surprisingly and effortlessly disarming, and she was not used to being disarmed. She had a reputation for being a fair boss, but she was far too jaded to be easily charmed. Or easily anything’d.
The bartender set the drinks in front of them.
Suit took a sip without removing his umbrella and it bumped against his nose. He should’ve looked ridiculous, but instead he looked like he was in on the joke, which was surprisingly attractive.
“Can we order some apps?” he asked the bartender.
“Sure. What’ll you have?”
“What’s good here?”
“Everything,” the bartender said. “But the sliders and fries are out of this world.”
Suit looked at Luna.
“It’s true,” she said.
Which was how she found herself sitting with a man she didn’t know, eating mini burgers and fries that tasted crackalicious.
“I’ve been to a lot of places,” Suit said, “but these curly fries . . .”
“I’m pretty sure they’re an illegal substance.”
He chuckled, and it was a low, masculine sound that cut through the anxiety she’d felt ever since she’d walked out of the attorney’s office earlier.
“I was going to skip dinner and take my exhausted ass straight to bed,” he said. “But this is much better.”
Luna smiled. “I’m exhausted too, but every time I say that out loud, my step app sends me a message that I’ve only taken twenty-three steps today.” She watched him drag a fry through a mountain of ketchup and eat it with genuine pleasure. “So what brings you to Sunrise Cove?” she heard herself ask. “Business or pleasure?”
“Maybe I’m a local.”
“Not in that amazing suit that screams big city, you aren’t.”
He looked amused. “Business. Although, I’m never opposed to pleasure.”
“Me either.” She shook her head. “Wait, strike that from the record. My mouth ran off without my brain’s permission again. It’s been doing that all day. I should’ve said I have pleasure limits.”
He grinned. “Do you want to discuss them?”
Luna laughed again, because damn. Good looking and funny. “Let me try that again. I’ve got serious time restraints regarding fun because I work around the clock. And clearly . . .” She pushed her drink away. “No more refills for me.” Mostly because she couldn’t take her eyes off his mouth. As in she wanted to do something wild, like have that one-night stand Willow had talked about. “In case you can’t tell, I’ve forgotten how to converse with a man.”
“You’re better than you think,” he said easily. “Do you want the last slider? It’s all yours.”
Nope, a slider wasn’t what she wanted at all. “I blame the Hawaiian margaritas,” she blurted out.
“Yeah?” He smiled that crooked smile. “I blame the chemistry.”
She almost looked behind her to see who he was talking to. “You’re feeling chemistry with me?”
“Yes. Aren’t you?”
“I don’t know. I’m sort of out of practice at chemistry.”
Their knees accidentally brushed together and damn, she did feel it. “Okay, maybe a little chemistry,” she admitted. “Good thing we’re strangers and never going to see each other again or I’d be running for the hills. I’m not dating right now.”
“What’s wrong with dating?”
She shuddered. “Men are what’s wrong with dating.”
“I’m a man.”
No kidding. “Nothing personal, but my last few attempts got me food poisoning, a sprained ankle, and stood up.”
He shook his head, like he was maybe apologizing for his entire gender. He lifted his drink. “To being strangers then.”
“Who will never see each other again,” she repeated, more to remind herself than him.
He chuckled, but nodded his agreement, just as out of the corner of her eye, she accidentally locked gazes with Willow, who beamed and gave her a double thumbs-up.
Luna ignored this and pulled out her cell, currently buzzing with an incoming text. “Sorry, just have to make sure it’s not work.”
Gram: Hi, honey, can I say “this meeting got lit” if I mean people are getting upset? And by people, I mean your mother.
Luna snorted and typed back: No, but you can say she got salty.
“Something you can share with the class?” Suit asked, smiling at her amusement.
“My grandma’s trying to use the word ‘lit’ in a sentence.”
He laughed. “This is really nice after a shitty week.”
She felt a surge of sympathy. “Same.”
He cocked his head. “Yeah? Because I’m talking epically bad week.”
“Again, same.”
He gestured to her. “You first.”
Deciding she couldn’t talk about losing Silas, not yet, she drew a deep breath, aware that on a scale of zero to tipsy, she was a full-on seven. But hell, she wasn’t going to ever see this guy again, and maybe that was the whole point. “I thought work was going okay,” she finally said. “My boss was miserly with praise, but he let me think everything was fine. I mean, sure, we don’t always make our monthly budget, but it wasn’t my department. But now . . . now it is.”
He was brows up. “You didn’t think it was a problem that you don’t always end up in the black? How often does that even happen?”
“Hey, we do our best.”
He shook his head on a rough laugh. “I mean this with the utmost respect, but here’s to never having to work together.”
She grimaced. “You’re a numbers guy.”
“You could say that.”
“What else could I say?” she asked.
“I’m in mergers and acquisitions.”
She stared at him. “Like a corporate raider?”
“I prefer organizational restructuring,” he said with a small smile. “But yes. And my point is, numbers are important. Numbers balancing are important.”
“I mean, I hear you,” she said, waving a curly fry around for emphasis. “I do. I just think there’s a lot more that goes into a successful business than numbers.”
He was smiling again. “Such as?”
“I don’t know . . .” She racked her slightly addled brain. “Joy in the work itself. Fixating solely on profit doesn’t motivate the employees to make success happen. Plus, customers don’t appreciate being seen just for their revenue. They have choices about where they spend their money, and I pride myself on giving them something they can’t get anywhere else. Luckily, I’ve aligned myself with a crew who feel the same.”
“Will they still align with you when you go out of business?”
His voice was teasing, so she took no offense. He was hot as hell, but clearly knew little about people. “We’re not going out of business,” she said. Hoped. “Your turn. What happened this week that made it so rough?”
“I’ve got to go save a business from ruin by the manager, who’s skating by on nepotism and sweet charm.”
“Well, that sounds awful.”
He shrugged. “I’ve had worse assignments. Should I be worried about your best friend, who’s trying to catch your attention?”
Willow had nearly fallen out of her chair twice, and both times Luna had done her best to ignore her. “No.”
“She isn’t having a seizure, is she?”
“No.” Luna shifted slightly so he couldn’t see Willow as easily and managed a smile. “So where’s home?”
He lifted a broad shoulder. “Haven’t figured out where I fit yet.”
How many years had she spent feeling like she didn’t know where she fit either? All of them, that’s how many. She picked up her glass and watched him as she took a sip. He really was very good looking. Leanly fit, dark brown hair, his eyes an intriguing, warm mix of green and gold. And wow, she’d been here entirely too long if she was noticing how warm his gaze seemed. “You’re not one of those guys who tucks their wedding ring into their pocket before entering a bar, are you?”
“I’m the guy who gets dumped long before there’s a ring,” he said wryly. “Well, except the one time when my fiancée walked out my door and never came back.” He gave her a small smile when she gasped. “It’s okay. It was mostly my fault since I’m constantly on the road. My life doesn’t lend itself to relationships.” He paused, looking into her eyes. “Your turn.”
“I’m not really a jewelry sort of girl, so . . .” She waggled her fingers. “Ring free.”
He smiled. “I give you my deep, dark, sad getting dumped story and all you give me back is you’re not a jewelry sort of girl?”
“Okay, but this is going to be embarrassing.”
He gave her the “let me have it” hands.
She sighed. “Apparently I’m . . . ‘too much.’” She finished her second and last drink. “Or not enough.” She shrugged. “Depends on who you ask.”
When he didn’t say anything, she met his gaze, realizing he’d lost the smile. “I hope you rearranged their favorite body parts,” he said. “Men are assholes.”
“I’m not going to disagree with that.” Not ready to go deep again, she went for a subject change. “What do you do to recover from a bad week?”
His smile was suggestive and sexy as hell.
Note to self: not quite ready for prime-time flirting. “Oh boy.” She fanned a hand in front of her face. “It’s hot in here. Is it hot in here? I’m feeling flustered.”
He covered her hand with one of his, ran the pad of his thumb over her knuckles. “Just two strangers sitting in a bar, right?”
“Right.” She drew a shaky breath. “No one’s going to see each other’s undies. Which is a good thing because I can’t remember if mine are cute today. I guess guys don’t worry about their undies being cute.”
“How do you know I’m wearing any?”
Hot flash. “I mean . . .” She picked up her glass, but oh yeah, it was empty. Damn. “We can just be whoever we want to be, right . . . ?”
“Absolutely. So . . . who do you want to be?”
And because he seemed genuinely interested, she answered. “How about a smart, witty, charismatic woman flirting with a hot stranger in a bar?”
He smiled, eyes warm and amused. “Do you always say everything you think?”
She grimaced a little. “It’s an affliction.”
“I like it.”
And she liked him. Probably it was the margaritas, but he was everything she’d just said she wanted to be: smart, witty, charismatic, and . . . something she couldn’t seem to manage nearly as easily—sexy. Not belonging had been a huge theme in her life, but right then, right there, with him looking at her like she might be the sexiest, funniest, smartest woman he’d ever met, she felt like she did belong. The feeling was so foreign, she did something she’d never expected. She leaned in a little to better hear him in the noisy bar, but also because she wanted to kiss him.
Badly.
And then he leaned in too, slowly meeting her halfway, both of them waiting for the other to back off. She knew it wouldn’t be him because he broke into what could only be called the hottest smile she’d ever seen, his teeth biting into his lower lip for a second.
Helplessly, she smiled back . . . and then their mouths touched for a teasing, soft, delicious kiss before they gently broke free to stare at each other. He opened his mouth to say something, but desperately afraid the moment would be over, she kissed him again. This earned her a heartfelt groan from the back of his throat and she melted at the sound, wanting more, much more, because the taste of him made her clothes want to fall off.
But that might’ve been the tequila.
And then while her blood was thrumming in her ears—and elsewhere—he pulled back and sat very still, suddenly looking serious. Maybe he was thinking about the things he wanted to do to her. She was certainly thinking about the things she wanted to do to him, so she went in for another kiss and . . . he hesitated. Like hesitated hesitated. Horrified, she pulled back, and face hot, she hopped off her barstool. “Sorry. I just remembered I’ve gotta go.”
He caught her hand. “No, wait. You don’t understand.”
She drew a deep breath. “Are you about to say ‘it’s not you, it’s me’? Because I’ve heard that one this month already.”
He grimaced, ran his free hand through his hair, which explained the tousled look. “Look, I’m sorry. I really don’t usually combine business and pleasure. I just didn’t expect this, or you, and I can’t—shouldn’t—”
With a rough laugh, she tugged free and backed away. “You don’t have to explain yourself. Just strangers in a bar, the end, right?” She dropped some money on the bar and left, pulling up her Uber app as she did since she’d had a few drinks. She’d get a ride for her car in the morning.
Annnd . . . that was a wrap on another day when she’d acted like she knew what she was doing.
Outside in the chilly April night air, she sat on a bench to wait, resting her head back. The night sky was dark with storm clouds.
Same as her life.
And even as she watched, a few lazy raindrops drifted down almost as if in slow motion while her brain churned out flashes of warm lips and goose bumps erupted across her entire body.
She didn’t want Suit’s rejection to affect her, but it was an unfortunate pattern in her life. When things weren’t perfect, when she wasn’t perfect, people pulled back from her. Her family. Her friends. And tonight, even a perfect stranger.