A grin that told her he also knew just how attractive he was. She’d certainly seen that look enough to know. Only wished she’d learned to identify it a lot sooner than she had. Figured the only guy who’d caught her eye in...forever...would be full of himself.
“I’m buying my own drinks tonight,” she said, hoping she sounded more congenial than she felt. “And I’m not interested in going out, but thanks anyway.”
Faith slid back onto her stool with a pinch of guilt in her gut. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so rude. She was clearly too overwhelmed too even think about having a man in her life.
She opened her mouth to tell Taylor she was going home, but Sexy spoke first.
“Actually, I wasn’t going to offer you a drink or ask for a date. But thanks for saving me the trouble—in the event either of those ever crossed my mind.”
He had just the hint of an accent. A bizarre tang she’d never heard before—a little Carolina, a little…Jersey? Boston? Wisconsin?
Faith swiveled again, meeting the man’s gaze squarely, caught between petulance and anger. He was leaning on the bar, his head turned toward her. And his grin had grown into a smile, creating crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Damn those were pretty eyes. His hat bore the New York Mets logo, and dark hair snuck out from under the edges.
“Just a heads-up, handsome,” she said. “If you decide to ask any woman out around here, you’d better ditch the hat. No self-respecting Carolina girl dates a Mets fan.”
He huffed a laugh and a real smile beamed across his face. One that made Faith’s stomach twist and flip. But it was the mischievous spark in his eyes that warmed the center of her chest.
“That so?” he asked.
“That’s so.”
“Who would a self-respecting Carolina girl date?”
“Atlanta Braves fan, of course. Ask anyone.”
His gaze darted to Taylor. “That right? Are you a Brave’s fan?”
“Hell yes,” Taylor confirmed.
“Duly noted.” He nodded and returned his gaze to Faith. “Miss Nicholas, if I promise not to wear my Mets hat in your presence again, would you tell me how I can find the woman running your father’s hardware store?”
She lifted one brow. No one called it her father’s store anymore. “Can I ask why?”
He chuckled and turned his gaze to the bar. “Well, see, my mama sent me to pick up our family Christmas tree,” he turned his gaze back on her with his panty-melting charisma ramped up to full power. His eyes were hot, his voice warm. “I was at the hardware store ten minutes before close, but it was already shut down tight. We’ve got a tradition, a big dinner where all the kids and grandkids and nieces and nephews and cousins all get together and decorate the tree. And, I tell you, if I go home without it…” He sucked air between his teeth with a shake of his head and his gaze lowered in a slow sweep of her face to hold on her mouth. “I’m as good as skinned.”
“Aw,” Taylor said behind Faith, her friend’s voice signaling she’d fallen for the story like a rock in a river. “How sweet.”
Faith laughed and straightened to put a little more distance between her and this tricked out version of her ex. “You can certainly spin a tale that pulls on the heartstrings, and I imagine most women fall for you hook, line and sinker.” She paused long enough for him to lift his brows in a what-can-I-say expression, then continued. “But I work with men all day, every day. Which means I can see right through bullshit. Everything you said after picking up your family Christmas tree was a big fat lie. You weren’t there ten minutes early, and there’s no family get-together tonight. But the part about getting skinned might be true. Otherwise, I doubt a city boy like you would be wasting your time chasing down some country bumpkin to get a Christmas tree.”
His brow fell. Smile faded into an irritated smirk.
Bingo. She’d been guessing at about 40% of that information, but maybe she was a better judge of character than she thought.
Faith picked up her punch, finished the drink, then licked the last bit of sugar from the rim before meeting his gaze again. “Now, why don’t you start again, and try the truth this time.”
He repositioned himself, facing her with an annoyed sigh. “My mama looked at the kitchen clock, realized it was five minutes till six, and rushed me out the door to get the tree before the store closed. And even though I did get there a few minutes before six, the store was locked up tight, so it did close early. And yes, the skinning part was true, which means one of two things for me.”
Oh, she liked this version of the man much better. And he was more entertaining than arguing with Taylor, so she dropped her chin into her hand and indulged him. “I’m listening.”
“One—you tell me how to get ahold of the girl who works the shop so I can try to sweet-talk her into letting my tree out of hock, or two…” He heaved another long-suffering sigh. “I pull a saw from my daddy’s garage, hike into the wilderness in the dark, and cut one down.”
Faith’s brows shot up. “You’re that afraid of your mama?”
He winced and huffed out a you-got-me chuckle. “I’m that afraid of my mama.”
Faith broke into laughter.
Taylor pushed to her feet. “Well, I’ve got to get home. My babysitter’s parents don’t like her out too late.” She leaned in to hug Faith and whispered, “Get yourself a Christmas present, dammit” in her ear.