“I’m glad I was able to break your fall.” Brandon’s eyes drifted over me. “You’re wearing the same dress.”
Outfit repeater. Yikes. How did I explain? “I was just, you know, trying to have a good night. Defy the notion that if I’m single I should stay at home in leggings and eat ice cream on Valentine’s Day.”
“So you’re single? No working things out with Dante?”
That made me roll my eyes involuntarily. “Are you kidding? No. You saw those horrible texts he sent to me. Nope. That was done that night.”
“Good for you,” he said. The corner of his mouth turned up in a very sexy smile. “Good for me.”
Yes, yes, and yes. Then I remembered my friend Felicia thought Brandon was not available based on some song lyrics he had quoted. I had to clear that up immediately because this time, I wasn’t letting this man disappear again.
“Are you married?” I asked, straight to the point.
His eyebrows rose. “No. I’ve been divorced for eighteen months. What makes you think I’m married?”
“That song. The piña coladas and getting caught in the rain. That song is about a cheater.”
He shook his head. “What? Damn. No, I was not dropping a hint I was married. It was just you said you like sushi and dancing and that popped into my head. I was trying to volley with you. Not well, apparently.” He grinned. “My game is rusty.”
That changed everything. I could care less about rusty flirtation skills. He was single. “Oh, I see. Feel free to practice your game on me anytime, then.”
He reached out and wiped my face again with his sleeve. “Sorry, you just had black stuff running down your cheeks.”
Wonderful. It suddenly occurred to me I could not be looking my best at the moment and I had a lot of nerve suggesting he practice flirting with me. “I should go deal with this,” I said, pointing to my face. “And then I owe you a drink.”
He tipped his empty glass back and forth. “No, you don’t. It was my fault.”
“How was that your fault?” I asked, incredulous and amused. “I slid down the banister like a ten-year-old and nailed you.”
“You slid down the banister? Why would you do that?” he asked. “I thought you tripped.”
I can’t tell a lie. It’s not in my nature. “I wanted to make an entrance.”
Brandon’s eyebrows rose. “That was an entrance for sure.”
“Are you okay?” Elijah asked me, finally appearing by my side. “Oh my God, your makeup. You look like an eighties horror movie.”
That was reassuring. “I’m fine,” I told him. “I’ll be right back.” Then I smiled at Brandon, conscious of the fact that I was a train wreck in a repeat outfit. But the key to success is confidence. “I’ll meet you at the bar, Hater,” I told him.
The night we had met I had teased him for his dislike of parties by calling him Hater. I wanted to remind him of that connection we’d shared.
It worked.
The corner of his mouth turned up and he cupped my cheek with his large hand, under the clear pretense of wiping another smudge. “It’s good to see you again, Dakota.”
“It’s good to see you too, Brandon,” I said. “Order me a glass of champagne, please. I feel like celebrating.”
I had exactly zero reasons to celebrate. I hadn’t gotten a job in months, my bank account was laughable, girls’ nights had turned into me babysitting for my friends while they went out with their husbands, and Dante had trashed me on social media. In short, everything was both on a downslide and dull. Life had gotten routine. Wake up, try to find an audition to go to so I could not get the job, work out, watch reality TV. Wash, rinse, repeat.
Not a bad life, because it could always be worse. But not exciting.
This? Running into my carriage rescue man? This was exciting.
And I wasn’t letting him out of my sight until I’d at the very least gotten his number.
Better yet, seen him naked.
I left Elijah stymied and Brandon heading for the bar, and went to the restroom.