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“Here. Sit here.” Carol Ann pulls out a stool. “I’ll get us drinks.”
With the confidence of a supermodel on the catwalk, she strides up the bar, the seas parting for her white boots. Leaning on the bar, she flirts her way into two chardonnays.
Nervous, I finger the edge of my skirt, peeking around at the eligible men. There are a few nice-looking, respectable men here. One catches my eye, giving me a shy smile.
I smile back. He starts to make his way over. I shrink back in my chair, overwhelmed by the idea of speaking to anyone other than…him.
Do not come over?—
Luckily, Carol Ann returns, standing before me, unknowingly blocking my view of the man as she hands me the chilled wine. “Here. Knock this one back so we can have another before we start talking to strangers.”
Two chardonnays later, Carol Ann has me rolling with laughter. She shares stories about the class she’s currently teaching as an assistant. The first-year college students are only a few years younger than her but have a lot of maturity to gain.
I’m almost wishing it was just us tonight, a girls’ night in, even.
But then I see his face.
Hear his words.
Fine. Go. You’re free.
I know I need this night. I need to move on as quickly as possible and forget Callum Burnes. The monster who won’t lower himself to the decency of offering an apology.
Someone rings a giant brass bell that hangs over the bar. “Ladies and gents! It’s time.”
Having been here before, Carol Ann knows what to do.
“Come on!” She grabs my hand, dragging me to the back of the bar where a long table has been set up, twelve slowly filling wooden chairs on each side. “Men on the right, women on the left. Lassies stay put. Lads shift over when the bell rings.”
Finding it the least daunting, I take the seat at the end, with Carol Ann slipping into the seat beside me.
She grabs my arm with excitement. “Are you ready?”
“Yes,” I say. “At least, I think I am. I mean, how do you know you’re ready for?—”
“Shut up. If you talk like that, they will run away from you. Try to relax. Here.” She hands me the rest of her glass of wine.
Eyeing the glass after the first two I’ve already had, I shake my head. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Finish it,” she orders.
Tipping the glass back, I let the liquid slide down the back of my throat.
“Whoa! Looks like we’ve got a real go-getter over here, blokes,” a man with an English accent claims. He slips into the seat across from me, chanting, “Chug! Chug! Chug!”
Setting the empty glass on the table, I dab at my lips. “It’s not like that,” I say. “Really. I’m just out of practice a bit with this whole dating thing. Needed a wee bit of wine.”
“Tell me about it. I’ve not had much luck lately. My last bird ran off with my brother.”
“Ouch,” I wince. “That is bad luck!”
I go through two more men. Nice, but not my type at all. And what is my type, exactly?
Six feet, bearded, tattooed, with eyes of green glass and a jawline of steel. Incredibly rude. Emotionally unstable. Phenomenal in bed, making my toes curl, and my eyes roll back in my head?—
The bell rings. The next man takes a seat in the chair across from me. “Hiya.” He’s the man who caught my eye earlier in the evening.
“Oh, hi!”
