down. But now, I could only shrug. “Doesn’t bother me now.”
Jessa looked out at the night with a huge sigh. “It is a gorgeous skyline, isn’t it?”
“Sure is,” I sighed as I sipped the last of my drink. Baileys wasn’t my usual drink but something about the milky texture soothed me, and after what happened last week, I wouldn’t be drinking anything heavier for a very, very long time.
“Do you ever regret it?” I asked.
“What?”
“Moving here from New York, starting your life over again.”
“You mean to babysit you through a broken heart?” Jessa shrugged. “Never.”
“Excuse me,” a voice came from the interior of the bar.
Both of us turned to see a waitress in a white halter dress with a drink in her hand.
“There is a gentleman at the bar who sends his best wishes.”
Jessa smiled and reached for the tumbler but the waitress pulled the drink away from her.
“It’s for the tall brunette,” the waitress nodded, handing the drink over to me.
Jessa looked like she had been smacked, but it was my cheeks that flushed and I was very glad I was on a darkened balcony.
I handed her my empty glass and took the new Baileys. No one had ever bought me a drink before. I stared down at the small crystal tumbler in my hand and couldn’t help but smile.
“Which one is he?” I asked the waitress, excitement running up and down my arms like cool water.
She pointed discreetly at a man wearing a dark leather coat. I didn’t need to squint to see who it was through the smoky bar. My excitement failed, but my manners didn’t.
I lifted my glass to Mr. Garrett and thanked the waitress before I turned back to the window where a deep furrow had formed between Jessa’s usually perfect brows.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Stalker boy just bought you a drink.”
I pursed my lips. I had really been hoping that she hadn’t seen him too. “Guess he’s got a thing for Chewbacca now.”
And Jessa did the one thing that reminded me why we were friends. She let out a Wookie trill that would have made George Lucas swoon.
I snorted with laughter as we moseyed our way back to the table, where I was sure another group of men would be waiting.
W hen a new bunch of boys came over, numbers uneven again, I snuck away to go stand at the terrace bar next to Garrett’s hunched-over figure as he watched the plasma screen scream with psychedelic colors above the bartender’s head.
“Didn’t think I’d answer my phone?” I asked as I slid up next to him.
He looked over at me and nodded. He still had to lean in a little so I could hear him over the music. “Can’t a guy just go to a bar and have a drink?”
“But of all the bars in all the world . . .” I quoted with a very bad Bogart impression.
He chuckled. I thought he was being generous.
As I watched him, I knew I should be feeling fear or confusion or something but I felt normal, good even. And it wasn’t the Baileys talking. I took the seat next to him and crossed my legs, leaning on the bar.
“Read the book?” he asked.
“Cover to cover.”
“Did it answer your question about silver and the fever?”
“Only heirloom silver is deadly and shapeshifters, the fancy word for werewolves, maintain a higher temperature around the full moon.”
He chuckled. “Bet you were an A student.”
“When I wasn’t driving my teacher insane with questions. How have you been?” I asked.
He jerked back with a sharply raised eyebrow and sat up straighter.
“What?” I laughed at his reaction. “I’m not allowed to ask? Something in the stalker’s union code? Conversations must be unidirectional and monosyllabic?”
“No,” he said with a small smile as he settled back into his hunched position, elbows on the bar.
“Well then, how are you?”
“I’m okay.”
“Just okay. What does it take, Mr. Garrett? I mean you are in the premier bar in downtown Dallas and you have a leggy girl by your side,” I explained
Jessa looked out at the night with a huge sigh. “It is a gorgeous skyline, isn’t it?”
“Sure is,” I sighed as I sipped the last of my drink. Baileys wasn’t my usual drink but something about the milky texture soothed me, and after what happened last week, I wouldn’t be drinking anything heavier for a very, very long time.
“Do you ever regret it?” I asked.
“What?”
“Moving here from New York, starting your life over again.”
“You mean to babysit you through a broken heart?” Jessa shrugged. “Never.”
“Excuse me,” a voice came from the interior of the bar.
Both of us turned to see a waitress in a white halter dress with a drink in her hand.
“There is a gentleman at the bar who sends his best wishes.”
Jessa smiled and reached for the tumbler but the waitress pulled the drink away from her.
“It’s for the tall brunette,” the waitress nodded, handing the drink over to me.
Jessa looked like she had been smacked, but it was my cheeks that flushed and I was very glad I was on a darkened balcony.
I handed her my empty glass and took the new Baileys. No one had ever bought me a drink before. I stared down at the small crystal tumbler in my hand and couldn’t help but smile.
“Which one is he?” I asked the waitress, excitement running up and down my arms like cool water.
She pointed discreetly at a man wearing a dark leather coat. I didn’t need to squint to see who it was through the smoky bar. My excitement failed, but my manners didn’t.
I lifted my glass to Mr. Garrett and thanked the waitress before I turned back to the window where a deep furrow had formed between Jessa’s usually perfect brows.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Stalker boy just bought you a drink.”
I pursed my lips. I had really been hoping that she hadn’t seen him too. “Guess he’s got a thing for Chewbacca now.”
And Jessa did the one thing that reminded me why we were friends. She let out a Wookie trill that would have made George Lucas swoon.
I snorted with laughter as we moseyed our way back to the table, where I was sure another group of men would be waiting.
W hen a new bunch of boys came over, numbers uneven again, I snuck away to go stand at the terrace bar next to Garrett’s hunched-over figure as he watched the plasma screen scream with psychedelic colors above the bartender’s head.
“Didn’t think I’d answer my phone?” I asked as I slid up next to him.
He looked over at me and nodded. He still had to lean in a little so I could hear him over the music. “Can’t a guy just go to a bar and have a drink?”
“But of all the bars in all the world . . .” I quoted with a very bad Bogart impression.
He chuckled. I thought he was being generous.
As I watched him, I knew I should be feeling fear or confusion or something but I felt normal, good even. And it wasn’t the Baileys talking. I took the seat next to him and crossed my legs, leaning on the bar.
“Read the book?” he asked.
“Cover to cover.”
“Did it answer your question about silver and the fever?”
“Only heirloom silver is deadly and shapeshifters, the fancy word for werewolves, maintain a higher temperature around the full moon.”
He chuckled. “Bet you were an A student.”
“When I wasn’t driving my teacher insane with questions. How have you been?” I asked.
He jerked back with a sharply raised eyebrow and sat up straighter.
“What?” I laughed at his reaction. “I’m not allowed to ask? Something in the stalker’s union code? Conversations must be unidirectional and monosyllabic?”
“No,” he said with a small smile as he settled back into his hunched position, elbows on the bar.
“Well then, how are you?”
“I’m okay.”
“Just okay. What does it take, Mr. Garrett? I mean you are in the premier bar in downtown Dallas and you have a leggy girl by your side,” I explained
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