Maverick (The Family Simon 3)
Page 8
“I didn’t—“
“Bullshit.”
“Whatever. I’m fine at the bar,” Charlie said, making a face.
“You don’t seem fine,” Davis replied. “We’ve got a table in the corner near the band. You don’t need to be looking at old news and trust me, he’s old news.”
Why hadn’t she just stayed home? Maybe she should just—
“And if you leave now, Jeremy’s new piece will think she’s won something. Don’t let her get under your skin. She’s not worth it.”
Angus set a new drink in front of her and Charlie’s fingers slid across the cold glass. She stared at the condensation for a few seconds. Davis was right. If she left now Jeremy and half the town would think it was because she still had feelings for him.
She glanced at the half filled bowl of stale pretzels. She was kind of hungry.
“Fine,” she muttered to Davis, eyes sliding to Rick, who thankfully had taken his gaze off her and was chatting with Ava. “Why’s he here again?”
“I invited him.”
“Why?”
Suddenly suspicious, Charlie focused on Davis. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d tried to set her up with someone. He knew how pathetic her social life was. Hell, she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d had an orgasm by anything other than her own hand. Long before she and Jeremy had broken up, things had soured in that department. But Charlie had way too much on her plate. She didn’t have the time or energy for a distraction.
A distraction like this here Rick-whoever-the-hell-he-was.
Not even with the zigs and the zags.
“Why what?” Davis asked.
Startled from of her train of thought, Charlie slid off her stool, taking a gulp of whiskey as she did so.
“Never mind. Let’s eat.”
She marched past the three of them, ignoring the surprise in Ava’s face and totally ignoring the man beside her. She smiled at Jeremy when she passed his table (and yes, she wished like hell she’d pulled on something other than her old faded denim, the plain white tank top and the blue plaid flannel shirt, but whatever).
She settled into the booth, set her drink in front of her and, shit, moved over when the new man in town, Rick slid in beside her. There was a smirk on his face that she didn’t like.
Or maybe she did, and that was a problem.
“Funny isn’t it?” he murmured, leaning toward her so that Davis and Ava had no way of hearing him.
He smelled nice.
Okay, Charlie thought. Stop it. Be cool. He’s just a guy. And she wasn’t interested.
“What’s that?” she asked, wishing he’d move back an inch or so. You know, on account of him smelling so nice.
A smile, played around the edges of his mouth. “In a bar full of people, you end up sitting beside the one guy you don’t like.”
“That’s not funny,” she replied, suddenly fighting the urge to smile, herself.
“No?”
“It’s ironic.”
He stared at her for a long time. How long she couldn’t say.
It was long enough for Charlie to know that if she didn’t watch her step, her life might become more complicated than she was ready for. And Charlie was, if anything, pragmatic. She didn’t like surprises.