big old awkward problem who was about to plant herself firmly at his table.
“Have a seat. We’ve got plenty of room.” Brett gestured to the two empty spots, not next to each other, of course.
This was turning out to be a piss poor date.
At the last moment, two of the sailors jumped up from their seats to switch and give her and Carl seats next to one another. Though she wasn’t sure if that was such a good thing, because right now he wasn’t winning any points with her. Not to mention the switch put her directly across from Brett.
She hardly expected him to play footsies, but if he so much as tried anything he’d better be prepared to receive a foot in the balls.
Menus were passed their way as someone admitted the rest of the guys had already ordered. In no time there was a beer in front of them as conversation flowed.
Or rather, conversation flowed between the sailors, while she remained mostly silent. They made half-arsed attempts to include her, but it was clear the group hadn’t seen each other in a while and were excited to catch up.
She snuck a glance over her menu at Brett, cursing her luck that while she was on her second date of the year, Brett—her first date of the year—was right across from her.
He cradled a beer in his large hand, almost lounging in the wooden backed chair. His position managed to be lazy and predatory at once.
She lifted her gaze higher, for a moment, and found those pale blue eyes watching her. His gaze was narrowed and heated.
Anger flashed through her and her lips tightened. He had no right to watch her this way—as if he were regretting standing her up. As if he were thinking about what she’d look like naked. He’d made a choice to walk away, so let the arse stew in his regret.
She tossed her hair over her shoulder and lifted her beer, arching a brow at him as she took a slow sip. Hopefully he could hear every blistering curse she was blasting him with in her head. Or at least imagine them.
His lips twitched into a grimace and he glanced away.
Aye, he knew.
The waitress arrived, and Kenzie put in an order for the fried pickles.
“Hey, you sure you want to get that?”
For a moment she wasn’t sure she’d heard right, but sure enough, as she cast her date a disbelieving glance, she found him watching her with a critical frown.
“Excuse me?”
“The fried pickles.” Carl leaned toward her and lowered his voice. “Look, you’ve been doing great with those ab workouts, you don’t want to blow it for five minutes of greasy food that you’ll regret.”
Her face flushed with a stain of anger and embarrassment. This wanker had just called out her food choice at a table full of men. While they were on a first date. Clearly he wasn’t gunning for a second one.
“I won’t regret it. I’ll work out another hour at the gym if I have to.” She glanced around the table. “Or does anyone else feel I have some problem areas I should be working on?”
“Hell no,” one guy chortled.
“You just keep doing whatever you’re doing,” the guy next to Brett muttered. “You’re fucking hot.”
In an instant Brett had smacked the guy lightly in the back of the head.
“Have some respect.”
The sailor blushed. “Sorry, Chief.”
“It’s not me you need to apologize to.”
“Sorry, Kenzie.”
Most of them were drunk, she realized. The beer had kept coming, pint after pint. “It’s all right. It’s probably my fault for asking such a ridiculous question.”
“Well, it followed an asinine comment,” Brett murmured, casting a hard glance at Carl.
There was one thing they could agree on right now, but Carl didn’t notice Brett’s death glare because he was ordering another beer from the waitress.
Shite. She really ought to cut her losses and simply text one of the girls for a ride home, but there was food on the way and her beer to finish. No doubt about it, she would finish the beer because she’d sure as hell need it to get through this
“Have a seat. We’ve got plenty of room.” Brett gestured to the two empty spots, not next to each other, of course.
This was turning out to be a piss poor date.
At the last moment, two of the sailors jumped up from their seats to switch and give her and Carl seats next to one another. Though she wasn’t sure if that was such a good thing, because right now he wasn’t winning any points with her. Not to mention the switch put her directly across from Brett.
She hardly expected him to play footsies, but if he so much as tried anything he’d better be prepared to receive a foot in the balls.
Menus were passed their way as someone admitted the rest of the guys had already ordered. In no time there was a beer in front of them as conversation flowed.
Or rather, conversation flowed between the sailors, while she remained mostly silent. They made half-arsed attempts to include her, but it was clear the group hadn’t seen each other in a while and were excited to catch up.
She snuck a glance over her menu at Brett, cursing her luck that while she was on her second date of the year, Brett—her first date of the year—was right across from her.
He cradled a beer in his large hand, almost lounging in the wooden backed chair. His position managed to be lazy and predatory at once.
She lifted her gaze higher, for a moment, and found those pale blue eyes watching her. His gaze was narrowed and heated.
Anger flashed through her and her lips tightened. He had no right to watch her this way—as if he were regretting standing her up. As if he were thinking about what she’d look like naked. He’d made a choice to walk away, so let the arse stew in his regret.
She tossed her hair over her shoulder and lifted her beer, arching a brow at him as she took a slow sip. Hopefully he could hear every blistering curse she was blasting him with in her head. Or at least imagine them.
His lips twitched into a grimace and he glanced away.
Aye, he knew.
The waitress arrived, and Kenzie put in an order for the fried pickles.
“Hey, you sure you want to get that?”
For a moment she wasn’t sure she’d heard right, but sure enough, as she cast her date a disbelieving glance, she found him watching her with a critical frown.
“Excuse me?”
“The fried pickles.” Carl leaned toward her and lowered his voice. “Look, you’ve been doing great with those ab workouts, you don’t want to blow it for five minutes of greasy food that you’ll regret.”
Her face flushed with a stain of anger and embarrassment. This wanker had just called out her food choice at a table full of men. While they were on a first date. Clearly he wasn’t gunning for a second one.
“I won’t regret it. I’ll work out another hour at the gym if I have to.” She glanced around the table. “Or does anyone else feel I have some problem areas I should be working on?”
“Hell no,” one guy chortled.
“You just keep doing whatever you’re doing,” the guy next to Brett muttered. “You’re fucking hot.”
In an instant Brett had smacked the guy lightly in the back of the head.
“Have some respect.”
The sailor blushed. “Sorry, Chief.”
“It’s not me you need to apologize to.”
“Sorry, Kenzie.”
Most of them were drunk, she realized. The beer had kept coming, pint after pint. “It’s all right. It’s probably my fault for asking such a ridiculous question.”
“Well, it followed an asinine comment,” Brett murmured, casting a hard glance at Carl.
There was one thing they could agree on right now, but Carl didn’t notice Brett’s death glare because he was ordering another beer from the waitress.
Shite. She really ought to cut her losses and simply text one of the girls for a ride home, but there was food on the way and her beer to finish. No doubt about it, she would finish the beer because she’d sure as hell need it to get through this
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