Bennett (On the Line 2)

She blew out a breath and nodded. “Pretty shitty.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are men so horrible?”

Molly slid a Long Island Iced Tea toward Charlotte and she took a big drink, cringing as she set the glass back down. “Wow, that’s strong.”

“Yeah, careful with those,” I said. “You’ll get wasted fast.”

“Sounds amazing right now.”

I arched a brow at her. “You drink much?”

“I got so drunk in college once that I threw up.” Her chin was raised defiantly. Damn, I liked this girl.

“Yeah, well, a couple of those and you’ll be that drunk again.”

She took another sip of the drink and sat in silence.

“Not all men are horrible,” I said after a minute.

“What?”

“You asked why men are so horrible, and I’m just saying, not all of us are.”

She tilted her head and considered. “Not until the opportunity presents itself.”

Cynical. I’d met women like her before. They usually expected me to single-handedly make up for every bad relationship they’d ever had.

“So let’s hear it,” I said, like a true glutton for punishment. “Fight with your boyfriend?”

“Not really a fight. I broke up with him after I pulled out the giant knife he lodged in my back.”

“What’d he do?”

She told me the story, and I tried not to flinch when she said she was an attorney. She seemed more down-to-earth than the other attorneys I’d met while out after games.

“Sounds like you got rid of a real douche,” I said, shrugging.

“You’re right,” she said, then tipped back her glass to finish the drink. “And you know what? I’ve missed hanging out with myself anyway. Like this, right now. I haven’t been to a bar in forever. And here I am, just having a drink, like single girls do.”

I tipped my glass against her empty one.

“I like being unpredictable,” she said, motioning to Molly for another drink.

“Pace yourself,” I advised.

“Hey, what’s your name, random bar guy with nice eyes?”

“Bennett.”

I held her gaze for a few seconds. What was it about her? It wasn’t just her looks, but something else, that made me want to lean over and kiss her right here. I wanted to touch those long, loose curls and taste that Long Island on her lips.

My phone buzzed with a text, and I looked down at the bar where it was sitting.

Liam: Won’t be home tonight. Get a cab, asshat.

I looked over toward the table where he’d been sitting. It was empty. I hadn’t even seen him leave. Not that I cared. I’d be sitting here with Charlotte until she left or fell off the barstool. And from the pink tinge to her cheeks and her exuberant laugh, I was pretty sure I needed to be prepared for the falling.