I polished off the last of my beer and pasted a smile on my face, gesturing toward the party outside. “I’m gonna grab a burger before they’re gone. See ya.”
He tugged my wrist as I stepped aside and wow, the insta-flash of heat hit caught me by surprise. It felt like I’d touched a hot stove. He dropped my hand immediately, and somehow that was worse.
“I’m sorry. I’ve been told I can be a tad overbearing.” Sean angled his head in a boyish manner…part contrite, part mischief. “But I’ve been with at least three guys I wished someone had warned me about.”
“Haven’t we all?”
I crossed my arms and leaned against the counter. I wasn’t sure what kept me there. I should have been in line at the barbecue, razzing Tegan about the size of the wieners on the grill. But I was a sucker for a sense of humor, and the unexpected spark of self-deprecating playfulness charmed me.
“Probably, but I’ve had a couple of winners. One stole a thousand bucks in cash from me, another poisoned my son’s goldfish, and—”
“Whoa. Who would poison a goldfish? And how would you know anyway? There’s no such thing as a goldfish autopsy. Is there?”
Sean grinned. “I don’t know much about fish autopsies, but the container of mouse food next to the bowl with Skittles floating at the top was a good indication.”
“Your ex fed your fish Skittles? That’s…weird.”
“No, that was the goldfish’s name. Sir Skittles.”
I bit back a reluctant smile. “Ah, genius name…and totally wasted on a goldfish.”
“I agree. I tried to talk him out of it, but Parker was seven at the time. He couldn’t be swayed with ordinary names like…”
“Goldy?” I suggested.
“Exactly.”
“So what’s the story?” I asked unthinking. “Who would commit pesca-cide on a kid’s defenseless fish?”
“A jealous asshole.”
“You spent too much time staring at the goldfish, eh?”
“Maybe. I don’t remember. That guy didn’t last long. He was a mistake I might have avoided if some kind soul had reminded me that a tight ass and a frequently used gym membership were not the measure of a good man,” Sean said with a sigh.
“Thanks, Methuselah. I’ll keep that in mind,” I snarked.
“Smartass.” He glowered playfully. “Fine, but if he—”
“Hey, drop it before you piss me off.” I reached for a carrot from the vegetable tray and crunched it noisily. “I’m starting to think I like your dog better than I like you.”
“I don’t blame you. I have that effect on people.”
I chuckled lightly. “Do you care?”
“Not at all. My days of trying to please anyone are long gone.”
I brushed my hands together as I eyed my companion. He’d taken up real estate in my head for almost twenty-four hours, and I didn’t like it. This conversation should have ended ten minutes ago. Just like the one last night. I was too curious about him to move on.
Maybe Charlie was right. I needed a diversion…or two.
“So what do you have against Clay?”
“I don’t have anything against him. He’s just not someone I’d choose to spend time with.”
“Why not? Too young? Too stupid?”
“Neither. Clay’s probably in his midthirties, and he’s smart as hell. But he’s also very…hedonistic. Yeah, that’s the word.”
I snorted incredulously. “Hedonistic. That’s quite a judgment call coming from the guy who owns a WeHo nightclub and has naked hotties answering his front door.”
He winced.
“That wasn’t supposed to happen. Hey, I’m all for scratching itches, but I don’t have the luxury of being indiscriminate in my personal life.” His forehead creased as he seemed to mull over the sentiment. “Like it or not, I have to stick to a rule book.”
“Oh, right…that’s why the naked guy got the boot last night.”
“Exactly.”
“But your kids weren’t home.”
“It doesn’t matter. Rules are rules, and I have a reputation to uphold. I’m a businessman. If I want to retain the respect of my clients and associates, I need to exercise a little discretion.”
“I see. And I suppose Clay doesn’t have to be so careful.”
Sean inclined his head. “Not at all. He’s made a career out of pushing the envelope. He’s young, attractive, confident, and out.”
“He sounds perfect for me.”
“He’s also reckless. I’ve seen him in action, surrounded by a posse of admirers. They flirt and strike poses, hoping he’ll notice them. He has a thing for twinks, too. Like you.”
I scowled. “I’m not a twink.”
“Some might think so. You’re tall and willowy…and you wear cosmetics.”
I checked my reflection in the glass cabinet behind me. My dark hair looked like a wild mop. “Barely. I only have a little guyliner on today.”
Sean raised a brow. “Looks good on you. And so do the ripped jeans, tattoos, and toned arms. See, you’ve got a bad-boy look that guys like Clay love. Beware.”
A slow grin spread across my face. “You think I’m a bad boy?”
Sean didn’t answer. He just stared at me for a long moment.