Henry notices me staring and steps between me and the girl I’m dancing with. He nods for her to give us a minute. “Oh damn, is that?—?’
“I think so.”
“Your personal library assassin?" he asks.
“Yeah, maybe.”
A smile slowly spreads across his face. “O’Ryan, you’re in trouble.”
“I’m not.”
“You absolutely are in trouble.”
I hand my drink to Henry and head toward the bar before my brain can stop me. Halfway there she looks up and our eyes collide. And just for a second. Just one. I see surprise and a glimmer of a grin. Then the walls slam back up and her face goes completely neutral.
I lean on the bar. “Well, this is awkward.”
“What do you want?” She grabs a towel and dries a martini glass.
“Didn’t know you bartended. I’ve never seen you here.”
“You never asked and I work.”
“And you’re thinking that I don’t work.”
She sets the glass down harder than necessary. “What do you want Parker?”
“Beer.”
She holds up two bottles for me to pick one. Then pops the cap off without looking at me and slides it the three feet across the bar. I don’t touch it. Don’t even want it.
“You look different,” I say.
She lifts a brow. “You look exactly the same.”
“Ouch. You know how to hit a guy where it hurts.”
“Did you come here to insult me?”
“I came here because Henry dragged me. He doesn’t like it when I’m down.”
The blonde next to me says, “Can I get aselfie?” She hands Annika her credit card and then leans into me and snaps the picture. “If you want to dance, I’m here with my girlfriends.”
I can see Annika rolling her eyes in the mirror behind the bar as she runs the credit card and hands it back to the girl with a paper receipt and a pen. Then turns to me and says, “You should go dance with girls who fall at your feet.”
“There it is.”
“There is what?”
“The thing where you act like you know everything about me and what I want.”
“I know enough.”
“You… you don’t know anything. I would think someone that analyzes every detail would know there is always more than meets the eye.”
She turns to make a margarita. Her jeans are tight and her ass looks even tighter. She has on boots that look like Birdie’s, J.D.’s wife. She may be wearing different clothes but she’s the same uptight girl who thinks she’s better than me. Even still, my mouth waters.
“Deep, Parker. Real deep.” She shoots me a sharp glance.