The One I Want

7

Andrew

My worries about work were forgotten the minute I walked into this place, my jacket discarded before the first game of darts, and my tie loosened after the second round of drinks.

The server tried to take up residence on my lap several times, pawing my arm and touching my hair. Margie’s cute, and I’m not opposed to hooking up for the night, but I am opposed to expectations in the morning. She’s already sticking to me like glue, which is not a good sign this early on. Add a jealous bartender scowling at me into the mix and I think I’ll stay clear.

“Andrew?”

I look up to find the guys staring at me. “What?”

Nick asks, “What the fuck was that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking—Oh.” Margie. “She’s not my type.”

Jackson asks, “Hot, flirting, and wearing a shirt that reads ‘ready when you are’ isn’t your type?”

Glancing a few tables over, she smiles at me just before my eyes go lower to the design across her chest. “I didn’t notice.”

“Wow,” he says. “It was pretty damn obvious, but okay.” Being Natalie’s brother, Jackson is family, but he also works upstairs. It was his parents' brokerage firm that we bought. He’s barely out of university, but he’s been working his ass off to prove he deserves to be there.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m good—”

“I know,” Nick says. “You’re fine. You always say that.”

I level a glare at him. “I am, except I could use another whiskey.”

As if her ears were burning, Margie’s here and offering, “Another drink, handsome?”

Jackson wags his finger in the air. “Another round, Margie.”

Still staring at me, she winks. “You got it.”

Nick says, “She’s definitely into you, man.”

A guy leans back from the table beside us. “I’m not one to give unsolicited advice, but I know a thing or two about Margie. She wants three things from a man. By appearances alone, you have two out of three.”

“What’s that?” I ask.

Chuckling, he replies, “Looks and money.”

After taking a sip of my drink, I say, “Trust me, my looks and bank account are the least interesting things about me.” I’m confident I have more to offer than that.

Nick is laughing but manages to say, “We’re going to have to trust you on that one, brother.”

Jackson leans forward as if Margie will somehow hear us over the rowdy crowd, and asks the stranger, “What’s the third?”

“A wedding ring.”

I angle to get a good look at him by resting my elbow on the table. “She only dates married men?”

“No, she likes to break up couples.”

He doesn’t seem like a shit-stirrer, but I know nothing about him. “That’s a damning accusation. How do you know?”

He shows his left hand where there’s no ring to be found. “I once fell for her tricks.”

“Luckily, I’m just here for the whiskey.” I toast to that and then empty the glass.

“Wise choice,” he says, setting the legs of his chair down again and rejoining his friends.

Jackson says, “I’m fairly certain it takes two to tango. He can’t place all the blame on her.”

I eye Margie across the bar as she rubs some other guy’s arm, the bartender now glaring at that guy. I’m not upset one bit.

That doesn’t change the fact that I’m reminded it’s been too long since I was with a woman. Clearly, I’m not seeking a relationship, but companionship with some fun at the end of the night wouldn’t be so bad. Turning back to my friends, I say, “I’m sure she’d appreciate the vote of confidence, though I’m not sure she needs it.” Just as her laughter reaches my ears, I cut my fingers through the air in front of my throat. “I think I’m done for the night.”

“Another round is on the way.” Standing, Jackson moves around the table. “I’m gonna take a piss.”

The bartender delivers our drinks and grunts when he sets mine down. Nothing else. Just a grunt.

Glancing between the glass and Nick, I ask, “Do you think it’s safe to drink?”

“Since I’m the spare, I’ll sacrifice myself to protect you, Sire.”

We’ve had a long-running joke about me being the heir and him the spare. Nick and my mom never appreciated it, but I cracked my dad up a few times. Not that he liked me more, but he likes a good one-up, and that was mine. “You will?”

“No, I fucking won’t. Drink it.” He taps his glass against mine, and adds, “The guy’s not going to kill his clientele.”

That’s true, so I drink. “Hey, I wasn’t going to say anything, but since you know about the list, I might as well tell you that I already did number one.”

“You gave in? What made you do that?” With a cocked brow, he sits back, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Figured it was the easiest, and that might satisfy her if she asks.”