Need Me (Mess with Me 3)

“He’s not here. If you were my girl, you’d never have to drink alone.”

“Wow, you are really setting the bar high.”

His brow wrinkles like he’s trying to figure out if what I said is a good thing or a bad thing.

“You come here often?”

Oh geez, this guy isn’t even trying. Usually I’ll let them talk for a while before I send them packing but this guy doesn’t even deserve a chance. I groan a little. Why are the most unimaginative guys always the most persistent?

“Every night. I’ve been waiting for you.” I take the salt shaker and start pouring little lines in the shape of triangles on the bar in front of him.

“Mmmm sola shaka ley. Mmmm sila shaka ley.” I start whispering more nonsense words in the most ominous tone I can muster.

“Whoa lady, what the hell are you doing?” His eyes go to the shapes drawn on the bar. “Are you casting a spell?”

If his eyes get any wider they’ll pop out of his head and roll onto the floor. He glances around frantically as if trying to see if anyone else notices what’s happening.

That makes me want to laugh even more than his reaction. There’s no one around to care and even if there was, rich people are great at ignoring anything that makes them uncomfortable. No one makes eye contact.

“Of course I’m casting a spell! How else can I make sure you never leave me?”

The guy immediately gets up and walks away. A snicker from my other side draws my attention. When I first sat down I barely noticed the guy other than his thick, dark hair. His head had been resting in his hand like he’d had a bad day.

Now he’s sitting up straight and staring right at me.

The fact that he’s so handsome shouldn’t be as much of a surprise as it is. His dark hair has the perfect amount of curl and his eyes are a honey brown like good whiskey. It’s the kind of male beauty that belongs on billboards and makes even smart women feel stupid.

“That was effective. I have to give you credit for that. The salt was a nice touch.”

Frankie clearly doesn’t agree as he appears with a wet rag and cleans up the salt. The guy slides a few bills across the bar, which softens Frankie’s annoyance considerably.

“You didn’t have to do that. I should have, since it was my mess. It just seemed easier than waiting for him to figure out it wasn’t going to happen.”

He shrugs. “It was entertaining. Better than the last movie I saw. Although that’s probably not saying much since I get out less than my grandmother.”

“Workaholic?” As soon as I ask, I wish I hadn’t.

Asking a guy personal questions is like putting a green light on your forehead. But luckily the suit doesn’t take it as a sign that I’m hot for him. He just sighs and looks down at his phone.

“Workaholic but I love it. I work for the family business so…” He shrugs again but something about the look in his eyes is familiar. It reminds me of what I’ve been feeling lately. Like I’m trapped and there’s no way out.

“Family can be complicated.” I think of my feuding parents, both too busy to care about me unless of course they think it’ll hurt the other in some way.

“I’m not complaining.” He shakes his head. “At least I get to do something I’m good at every day. It would just be nice… never mind.”

“No, what? You can tell me.” I’m not sure why I care but suddenly all I want is for him to finish that sentence. For someone else to put a name to this restless feeling.

“It would be nice to feel more fulfilled. Like what I’m doing actually matters to someone.” He closes his eyes briefly, like he didn’t mean to reveal so much.

“Yes. I get that.”

He opens his eyes. “This is quite heavy for bar talk.”

I laugh at that. “True. Should I ask if you come here often instead?”

“That was particularly uninspiring, I have to agree. Is that usually how men hit on you?”

“Most of them try a little harder than that. But salt always does the trick.”