Page 6 of Big Girl Panties

I'd lost the bet and was now ready for my punishment. Well, after they all got done ragging on me. Brady, Travis, Joe, John, Daniel, Dallas, and I were all pro wrestlers, and when you put us all together, we were like giant kids.

"I thought the vein in his neck was going to explode," Travis laughed so hard that I could barely understand him.

"Ha. Ha." I drummed my fingers against the sticky tabletop, the rhythm matching my irritation. "This is so funny. Can you pick someone already?"

Dallas won, so he got to choose who I was taking home tonight.

He straightened in his seat as his gaze swept over the bar, moving back and forth until his face split into a smirk. "Her." He nodded his head, and I twisted in my seat, following his line of sight and turning towards the bar behind me. There was only one woman at the bar. I whipped around, my brow furrowed. "Are you serious?"

Dallas's shoulders shook with laughter as he nodded.

I wasn't asking that in a there's no fucking way I'd ever ask her out way. I was surprised because she was beautiful. She tucked a strand of dark hair with lighter colored highlights behind her ear, and I caught myself staring. Her smile transformed her entire face when she laughed at the bartender, and my breath caught. She was stunning in a way that made me forget the bet entirely.

My eyes darted from table to table, taking in the sea of faces. I froze, realization dawning on me.

They'd picked her because she was curvy, thinking it was some kind of punishment. My pulse quickened as I caught her smile again. A familiar tension settled in my chest, the same one I felt every time I chose my public image over what I wanted. This bet might be different.

Not that they would know because the only women I'd dated lately were tall, thin models. For the last few years, my team chose who I dated. In fact, they decided every move I made, every step I took. It was all about appearances, but now I was one of the top wrestlers in the world; I could do whatever I wanted.

"Guess I’d better get to it." My lips curved up into a grin as I slid out of the booth and strolled up to the opposite end of the bar. Sliding onto a stool, I analyzed the situation. She was alone and throwing back straight shots. It must have been a rough day. My eyes dropped to her left hand, noting there was no ring, but that didn't mean she was single.

"What can I get you, Matt?" Ricky asked.

I glanced at the woman again, shoulders hunched, eyes fixed on her phone like a shield. Everything about her screamed leave me alone, but that only made me want to approach her more. "Do you know her?"

"Yeah, that's Brooke Wallace. She's a regular. " His gaze shifted back to me with interest. "She's single, if that's what you're getting at."

"I need a favor. Let me bartend."

Ricky blinked at me like I'd just asked to perform brain surgery. "You could just walk over there. You're Mataio freaking Strickland."

But that was exactly the problem. Mataio Strickland got fangirls and stage-door groupies. This woman looked like she'd rather throw her drink at anyone who interrupted her brooding.

I shook my head. Her posture was giving fuck off vibes, not I'm a fangirl. "No, I can't."

"Okay," he drew out the word. "Do you even know how to mix a drink?"

"No, but it looks like she's having a straight tequila kind of night."

"Good luck, man." He pushed off the bar and threw the towel in his hand over his shoulder.

I slid out of the barstool and strolled around the bar to the back as I ran lines through my head, which all sounded stupid. I shook my head and my hands simultaneously to shake off my nerves. I hadn't had to flirt with a girl in over ten years, and I was a little rusty.

I wiped my suddenly sweaty palms on my jeans, realizing I couldn't remember the last time I'd had to make the first move. Usually, women would sidle up to me, touch my arm, and suggest, 'We get out of here.' It made things easier for me because I wasn't good at the possibility of being rejected.

As I approached, she didn't even glance up.

Inhaling a deep breath, I exhaled slowly as I stopped in front of her, and suddenly, my own insecurities were getting the best of me. I cleared my throat. "Rough day?"

She glanced up from her phone, her eyes sharp and guarded beneath furrowed brows. "I'm sorry?" My eyes dropped, widening on all the empty shot glasses. Her gaze followed my line of sight. "Oh," she shrugged, "kind of."

"Can I get you a refill and an ear?" The words tumbled out before I could stop them. An ear? Really, Matt? What are you, a body parts dealer? I forced an awkward smile.

One perfectly arched eyebrow shot up. "An ear? Is that what we're calling therapy sessions with bartenders now?"

"Would you prefer a shoulder? I'm told I have good shoulders." I turned slightly, flexing just enough to be ridiculous.

"Cocky." But she was almost smiling, and I found myself leaning closer to catch her voice over the music. "Tequila. Are you new here?"