Victoria finished her speech with a flourish—And that is that, my friends—and then noticed that Audrey and Rachel looked a little . . . surprised.
Uh-oh.
That may have sounded a touch too cynical, even for her. She sometimes forgot that not everyone had a front row seat, day in and day out, as marriages died their slow, painful deaths.
“Or . . . maybe we’ll have two kids, a summer home in Michigan, and be happily married for fifty years,” she said, quickly covering with a joke. “Heck, where is this future husband of mine?”
She glanced over her shoulder to look at the man who’d inspired their whole debate, this dark-haired guy in a navy shirt who undoubtedly was not a fireman, or named Carter, or even—
Ho-ly crap, he was gorgeous.
Slightly unruly dark brown hair, a strong, chiseled jaw that even Superman would envy, and piercing eyes—Victoria couldn’t make out the color from where she sat, but it didn’t matter. He wore a short-sleeved shirt that showed off the toned muscles in his arms and broad chest, and she’d bet that every inch of his body not currently on display—boo—was just as delicious.
She blinked, and turned back to her friends. “Wow.”
“I know.” Rachel leaned in. “And he’s been checking you out this whole time.”
“Maybe he and his two friends will come over.” Audrey sized them up with a scrutinizing air. “The one with the hat has a cute hipster thing going on. I could work with that.”
Unable to resist, Victoria sneaked in one more peek.
When his eyes met hers across the bar, boldly holding her gaze, she felt a thrill of attraction zip through her body.
The corners of his lips curved in a smile, as if to say, Yeah, I felt that, too.
Victoria was just thinking about her next move, or how she might respond to his next move, when an attractive woman with short blond hair sat down in the seat next to him and whispered something in his ear.
Ah. Well. So much for that.
Victoria turned back to her friends.
Audrey rolled her eyes. “What a jerk. Totally checking you out while he’s here with another woman.”
Rachel, ever the optimist, was quick to jump in. “Now, now, we don’t know what the situation is. Maybe that’s his . . . sister.”
“Ah, yes, one of the three sisters he adores and calls every week.” Victoria cocked her head. “You know what? Let’s go with that. If we never talk to him, then we’ll never find out that he isn’t perfect. He’ll always remain as lovely in our fantasies as Rachel says he is.”
Audrey grinned and raised her glass. “I’ll drink to that.”
“Me, too,” Rachel seconded.
They clinked their glasses together in cheers.
* * *
CHARLIE AND TUCKER would probably skin him alive if he didn’t say yes.
At a table near the back of The Violet Hour, the blond woman who’d just taken the seat next to Ford had a question for them. She was at the bar with her girlfriends as part of a bachelorette party, and they wanted to invite Ford and his friends to join them for a round of drinks. The blonde had pointed out the table where her girlfriends sat, and the group had waved back enthusiastically—ten or so women, all dressed up and each one looking cuter than the next in their Friday-night outfits.
Needless to say, Charlie and Tucker were in.
Ford, however, had his eye elsewhere. A short while ago, he’d caught sight of the brunette sitting across the bar, the one who had her long, chestnut hair pulled back into one of those sexy high ponytails. She wore dark jeans, killer red heels, and a loose-fitting red top that dipped down on one of her shoulders, exposing bare skin.
A few minutes ago she’d launched into a speech, speaking passionately about something to her two girlfriends. The investigative journalist in him had been intrigued, wondering what it was that had her so fired up.
And he was also intrigued by that bare shoulder. Where was the bra strap? Was there even a bra?
Inquiring minds wanted to know.
Then she’d glanced his way and held his gaze when she’d caught him watching her. A few moments later, she’d looked again.
He’d been contemplating his next move when the blonde from the bachelorette party unexpectedly sat down next to him, and the brunette in the red heels hadn’t looked at him since.
Crap.
“We’d love to join you for a drink,” Charlie said enthusiastically, answering the blonde on behalf of the three of them.
“Hell yes, we would,” Tucker concurred wholeheartedly.
“Great! I’ll let everyone know you’re coming,” said the blonde, before rejoining her friends.
Tucker watched as she walked back to the table of women, and then spun around in his chair to face Ford and Charlie. “Bachelorette party—sweet.” He did a fist pump.
“Very subtle, Tuck,” Ford said.
“I can’t believe you hesitated,” Charlie said to Ford. “Dude. If someone asks if you want to join a bachelorette party, you say yes.”
Tucker leaned in. “I bet they dared the blonde to come over and talk to us. They do things like that at bachelorette parties, you know. Games. Dares. Like . . . someone has to buy a guy a drink, or convince him to give her his underwear.”
He paused.
“Trying to remember what underwear you put on this morning?” Ford asked.
“Trying to remember if I put on underwear this morning.” Tucker grinned slyly. “I guess one of you boys will have to field that one.”
“And . . . that just shot to the top of the list of things I did not need to know tonight.” Charlie polished off his drink and set it down. Then he turned to Ford. “You ready?”
Ford’s eyes flickered back to the brunette in the red heels. “Why don’t you guys go ahead? I’ll settle up the check and join you in a bit.”
Maybe.
Charlie stared at him, flabbergasted. “What has gotten into you? There are ten women over there whose collective goal tonight is to get wild and crazy as they celebrate the beauty and power of being female.”
“Ooh . . . the redhead in the black dress just licked a lollipop shaped like a penis. Seriously, why are we still sitting here?” Tucker followed Ford’s gaze, spotted the brunette in the red heels, and grinned. “Ah, another hen in the henhouse.”
Ford watched as the brunette laughed and shook her head at something one of her friends said. Then his eyes roamed lower, liking the way those skinny jeans fit her curves.