Last Call (7 page)

I walked away from the bar with a smirk on my face and the certainty that Mr. Aussie’s eyes were firmly tractor beamed onto my ass. I felt the heat of his gaze following me as I headed over to Riley's booth to fill him in on the fiasco that was Jack.

"Run him off already, gorgeous?"

"It was baaaad, Riles," I groaned; going into all the slimy details.

"Oh Savannah, only you, baby, only you…"

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?"

Finished with whatever he'd been doing in his booth, he came around the wall. He grabbed my hand out of the blue and deftly pulled me into his arms. Riley swung me around on the edge of the dance floor as the cover band strummed some slow song I'd never heard of.

"Sara and Candace told me about your new quest to find a date for a wedding back home. You sure you're up to the task?"

"Why the hell wouldn't I be?" I was offended that Riley would even think otherwise. Was the word ‘fragile’ written across my forehead?

"You
do
know that the male species is like, ninety percent horn dog and ten percent 'man you can bring home to your momma', right?"

I giggled when he dipped me low. "It's a damn shame I don't know anyone in that ten percent bracket, Riles. Good thing I've got all these dates set up."

"Bite your tongue. I am one hundred percent all beef patty, special sauce and charm for your momma right here." He waggled his eyebrows at me and spun me out before twisting me back in.

Barely able to keep up with his fancy footwork, I stumbled and fell against his chest, still laughing at his bawdy humor. Riley always did know how to make me smile.

Saturday - April 27, 2013

Date #3 - Carter

Date number three in as many days. All I really wanted to do tonight was veg out in front of the television and read a good book. Two bad dates in a row was enough for one week. To make matters worse, it was seven-fifteen before my date showed up. He was forty five minutes late. Then he waved at me and pointed to the restroom. What the hell? I seriously contemplated just walking out of the bar, and went as far as to slide off the stool, when a husky male voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Tom Collins?"

Sigh. That accent could melt the panties off a girl. I was sure it had happened many times. Surprised, I met his warm brown eyes and asked, "You know my drink?"

"It's my job to know what the regulars prefer."

I shook my head immediately. "Oh, I'm not a regular."

He chuckled. That same deep chuckle I remembered hearing the night I left Mark at the bar. "My apologies, three nights in a row…I mistakenly assumed you made this a habit."

"Whoa, what do you mean
this
?" I asked. I felt my cheeks begin to burn. He actually thought I was trolling for men! I suppose it did look like that to the casual observer. Oh, snap. I didn't want to look easy.

"
This
? Picking losers for dates - that's what I meant," he stated smoothly, his arm waving about the bar. He turned his back and grabbed a glass and ice. I watched as he made his way around the bar and effortlessly poured the gin, lemon and simple syrup into the glass.

"On the house." He winked and walked away.

What? So he wasn't trying to insult me personally, just the "losers" I'd been with. Wait a minute.

"Hey," I shouted after him, not caring that he was talking to some other girls a few stools down from me. He raised his head and looked my way; his forehead crinkling in surprise, or perhaps confusion, at me yelling at him.

"What makes you think they're losers?" I hollered down the bar. Obviously I had no shame anymore. My mother would be mortified.

The corner of his mouth pulled up slowly - and holy hell- a totally lick-able dimple popped out in his cheek. The girls at the bar gawked at me while I held his gaze and waited for an answer. He turned back to the other patrons and suddenly I felt like an unruly toddler who had spoken out at an inopportune moment as I watched him take their order. He made a big show out of pouring a glass of wine for one and then shaking up some type of colorful drink for the other. All the while his eyes continued to meet mine in quick glances, and he maintained a slight grin.

He took their credit cards and slowly migrated my way; his brown eyes boring a hole into mine.

"Did you yell at me from across the bar, sweetheart?"

The word ‘sweetheart’ would normally bait me, but coming from his mouth it caused me to turn to goo. Not good. This man had some secret kryptonite in that voice of his.

"Yes,
sweetheart,
I did," I answered snottily, oozing with self-importance. "What makes you think my dates are losers?"

"You can't be serious," he all but groaned. "Love, anyone could have placed a bet on the outcome of those dates."

Oh my God. He was full of himself, wasn't he? I laughed off his remark and took a long swig of my drink as I tried to develop a witty comeback. My damn perfect drink. Did this man have any faults besides an oversized ego? Unfortunately the busy crowd took him away from me before I could come up with anything worthy to spit back at him.

"Hey, gorgeous." Strong hands gripped my upper arms and a pair of lips pressed a quick kiss to my cheek. Riley.

"Geez, Riley!” I yelped. “Scare a girl much?"

I twisted in my seat to face him. Riley was tall and skinny - the type of guy you would assume was into Bioscience. He was totally an urban hipster, though. What he was doing playing music at a semi-country bar in Nashville was beyond me. He slapped the bar top twice and nodded his head.

"Where's Sara and Candace? Or are you on another date?" he asked, as he reached over my shoulder for a large glass and acknowledged whomever had handed it to him with a "Thanks, man."

"Sure thing." Kyptonite voice struck again as I answered Riley. "Well, kinda."

"Kinda? What's that supposed to mean?" he asked; his forehead crinkled in confusion. I looked across the bar towards the hallway to the restroom and spotted my time challenged date actually flirting with some big boobed chick. Snorting inelegantly, I excused myself from the bar stool.

Time to nip this one in the bud
, I thought to myself. I deliberately walked as sexily as I could as I sauntered over to my supposed date, Carter, and stood behind the petite brunette he was chatting with.

I threw out a casual "Hey," interrupting their flirtatious banter. The brunette halted her chipper laughter and swung around to meet me, open curiosity showing in her face.

"So is this a double date tonight, Carter?" I asked, boldly eyeing the girl like I was sizing her up.

Carter's jaw went slack as he assessed me. The brunette giggled and actually leaned into me and whispered, "I'm not against that, you know." She winked when she pulled back and I burst out laughing. The little brunette laughed too. I got the feeling I was being punked, and scanned the area looking for hidden cameras.

"I tell you what, sweetie - he's all yours tonight," I conceded, patting her arm. I shrugged at Carter as he pinned a look on me, and walked away swinging my hips as provocatively as I could.

Riley watched me as I wandered back to the bar. His water glass was arrested halfway to his mouth, and his eyes were about to jump out of their sockets.

"Was that your date?" he sputtered, finally taking control of his senses and sipping from his glass again.

I edged myself back onto the bar stool, careful to keep my short skirt from riding up as I answered him. "Well, like I said before,
kinda
. Apparently he decided to check out the other dishes on the long trip to the restroom."

"What an idiot," he muttered a little too forcefully. "What did you say to them?"

"I suggested a threesome," I heard a choked laugh behind me but paid it no heed as I went on, "and hilariously enough, she was into that. So I did what any smart girl would do, and I gracefully handed him over to her."

"It's his loss, Savannah. You look extremely do-able tonight, baby," he exclaimed, causing me to slap his chest when the few guys standing by us looked over and nodded in agreement.

"Nice job, Riley," I muttered. "Now they're
all
going to be panting after me."

"Pretty sure they already were," he ground out as he glanced at his watch. "Stick around for a while?"

It was eight o’clock and I had no desire to head home yet, so I agreed. Crossing my legs and leaning my elbows on the bar behind me, I hunkered down to wait.

"Try not to distract the bartenders sitting there all pretty like that." He leaned down and pressed another friendly kiss to my cheek.

"Hey Gage," he called over my head. "Watch out for my girl here."

I laughed when he called me 'his girl' until I looked to the left to see Gage, a.k.a. Mr. Aussie, shake his head in affirmation and reply back, "Sure thing, Riley."

If there'd been a desk in front of me, I would have been knocking my head into it. Gage, as I now knew his name to be, turned away the moment Riley did. After a few minutes of keeping my back to the bar, I heard ice clinking into a glass behind me. Slowly I looked over my shoulder to see Gage placing another Tom Collins on a napkin.

"Trying to get me drunk?" I flirted, giving him an appreciative glance. He winked and looked me over for a moment.

"We're friends." I threw that out there like the obligatory Presidential first pitch at an MLB game. It was awkward and clumsy, and Gage did nothing but raise his brows and walk away.

Dang, that was infuriating. What did I care what he thought of me or my sketchy dating habits?

"Who’s here for some music?" called Riley from the DJ booth. The crowd cheered and clapped as Riley egged them on. "It's open mic night, and I've got one pretty little lady here to start us off…" I zoned out as he introduced the first singer.

The bar was full of groups of people laughing and drinking. There were more tables set around the dance floor area tonight, which left less room to dance to the live music. They usually shifted the tables off the floor each night around ten o’clock when Riley started spinning tunes.

A soft voice began singing a Taylor Swift cover and I found my foot swinging to the tune. She actually sounded pretty good. I twisted around to the drink Gage had left for me and found myself the object of his intense scrutiny.

He stood on the other end of the bar, popping bottles open for a large group of guys who couldn't find any seats at the bar. They were shouting above the music and other crowd noise, holding up fingers and passing drinks around.

I averted my eyes and picked up my drink; taking a small sip. Mmmmm, he had mad skills at making drinks, that was for sure. With my head lowered I tried to steal a glance his way. Behind my lowered lids I strained my eyeballs and was able to make out his form, but not his face.

My visual stalking was interrupted by the most cliché opening line ever. "You go to VU, right?"

Obvious much? Pretty much everyone who inhabited The Garage went to VU. Well, everyone with the exception of the cougar crew that I kept seeing hanging around. Speaking of, I wondered where they were tonight.

"Hey, yeah I do," I answered politely, checking him out. He wore leather banded flip flops, cargo shorts and a simple pullover. His eyes looked to be light in color, but the strange lighting in the bar made it hard to see exactly what color. His hair was brown and a little long at the edges.

"I knew I’d seen you around campus." He smiled as he held his hand out to me and introduced himself as Brandon.

"Savannah."

"So, Savannah, what are you doing here all alone?"

I tried, and failed, to keep my eyes from rolling. Is this really how guys picked girls up these days? I’d forgotten how awkward it was trying to pick up strangers. No wonder I didn’t do this bar thing more often. Brandon stepped a little closer to me and brushed his leg against mine.

"I'm not alone…" I replied.

"Brand?" interrupted a petite blond from across the floor. When she got to our sides, she surveyed me for all of two seconds before wrapping her lithe body around Brandon and kissing him full on the lips. "Come dance with me," she murmured; pulling him away.

He allowed her to lead him to the dance floor, but not before his eyes made intimate contact with every inch of my body one last time.

"Hmph, tossed aside for Malibu Barbie," I muttered to myself, laughing at my own humor. I raised my glass for another long sip while I watched the limber gal do her personal version of a pole dance around poor Brandon's waist. The current performer was singing Toby Keith, for goodness sake. Not exactly a stripper song.

The kryptonite voice I was getting so used to chuckled and spoke. "You can't sit there like that and not expect these puppies to hit on you."

"Puppies?" I asked, genuinely confused at his slang.

"Puppies. I'd call them dogs, but they're boys, sweetheart…and you’ve got them sniffing around you like you’re in heat."

I was leaning against the bar with one elbow propped on it and my right leg crossed over the left. My black dress hiked up a good mile in my seated position, and I'd been swinging my strappy heeled leg to and fro for a while. I also came to the embarrassing conclusion that this position gave my cleavage quite a boost.