“Right.” My phone beeps in my purse, and I decide that’s my cue to leave. “Well, I better go.”
“When will I see you again?” he hollers as I walk toward the door.
Spinning around, I give him my best come-hither look. “When I decide to get another tattoo.”
“Or?” he asks, a grin splitting his ruggedly handsome face.
“When you decide to fuck.”
His jaw nearly hits the floor.
Brittany, one. Connor, zero.
I think I’m go
ing to like playing this game.
Three weeks later
Shut up already!
Brad—twenty-five, full-time firefighter—hasn’t shut his fucking mouth since I sat down at the bar forty-five minutes ago. He needs to shut up.
You need to shut up.
Somehow, by the grace of God, I manage to keep the words from actually spilling from my mouth, which is becoming increasingly more difficult with each dirty martini. Speaking of dirty martinis…
Raising my hand, I signal the bartender for another drink. In a matter of minutes I’m back to sipping while still staring at Brad’s mouth as he tells me about…shit. What the hell was he telling me about?
It’s too late. The Mississippi native with a sexy Southern drawl has officially bored me to death. My shoulders deflate, and I take another drink. This is pointless. As much as I’d like to rip off Brad’s clothes to see if his body is as chiseled as it looks, I just can’t get past the fact that he’s unable to hold my interest in a simple conversation.
It’s probably my fault. I’m the one who asked him to tell me about himself, and now I have to figure out how in the hell to get him to stop.
“Brittany.” Brad snaps his fingers and I look up, catching his gaze. He smiles a thousand-watt smile, and for a fraction of a second I reconsider my decision to ditch him.
“I’m sorry,” I say sheepishly. “I, uhh…I must’ve zoned out. What was the question?”
“He asked if he could take you out on a date.” My head whips to the right at the familiar voice. Looks like the night just got a whole lot more interesting.
Connor’s blue eyes lock on mine. “I take it you haven’t told him yet.”
I have no idea what he’s up to, but I decide to take the bait. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.” Raising my eyebrows, I wrap my lips around the rim of my glass and take a sip. Connor cocks a brow, his gorgeous eyes dancing with mischief.
“She doesn’t date.” He directs his words at Brad. “She fucks.”
My eyes leave Connor’s long enough to see Brad perk up in his seat.
“You don’t date?” Brad asks.
“I don’t,” I tell him.
“She fucks,” Connor clarifies.
Brad nods, his brown eyes now thick with lust. “She fucks,” he says slowly as though he’s trying to understand what Connor just said.
Connor grins. “But not you.”
“Why not me?”