TJ furrows his brow, blinks several times. “You’re going to need to back this up, man. Yes, I am an evil genius, but I doubt your love life fascinates anyone enough to play chess with it. Still, I’ll bite. How does Hazel’s appearance relate to my writer’s block? Also, thanks for mentioning how much I suck at my job.”
“You’ll find inspiration soon enough. I have faith. Besides, if all else fails, just write about me.”
TJ spreads his arms out wide. “Yes! Thank you. I shall henceforth make you the hero in my next sexy romance novel. I’ll call it . . . Come Again.”
“Ah, that is indeed what all the ladies do when they’re with me,” I say, because it’s all too easy.
“I meant it more in a what-the-fuck way. Come again? My readers like their heroes with a little more finesse,” he jokes, then turns serious once more. “Anyway, what is this j’accuse all about?”
“Hazel brought along Bellamy Hart last night. What do you know about her?”
With a no-big-deal shrug, TJ scrubs a hand along the back of his neck. “Probably the same as you—whatever Google has to say. Hazel just asked to bring a friend.”
Nolan claps my shoulder. “Somebody’s got Easton’s panties in a twist.”
I heave a sigh. He’s not wrong. “She’s the one from Spencer’s bar,” I tell him.
“Ohh,” Nolan says.
“Elaborate,” TJ demands.
Nolan is all too happy to do that. “Two weeks ago, this dickhead dictated a work note at Spencer’s bar.”
“So, you gave him a dare,” TJ supplies.
“We bet he couldn’t snag a beautiful woman in a flapper dress,” Nolan puts in. “Long story short, she won the costume contest with him. He kissed her like a sailor kissing his girl before he ships out to sea, then she left without giving him her number. Basically, it was a beautiful night of comeuppance. Maybe that’s what you should call your next book,” Nolan says, finishing the not-a-love story.
TJ’s grin turns far too pleased. “I want to meet this woman. Buy her a drink.”
“Get in line behind my sister,” I say. “Anyway, that’s Bellamy. She’s complicated. Vexing. Smart as a whip. Sexy as a song.”
TJ smiles. “And you can’t figure out if she’s hot for you or hates you?”
“Or maybe both,” I say. “So, I figured I’d see if you knew anything more about her before I say yes to her request to be on her podcast.”
TJ shakes his head. “Nope. All I know is Hazel wanted into your events, since she’s in the mood for love. And she wanted to bring a plus one. Other than that, you’re on your own,” he says, his gaze straying briefly to the bartender, a hipster guy with tattoos.
The man smiles at TJ, and I’ve got a feeling my friend won’t be going home alone tonight. TJ tips his chin back in some sort of unspoken hello, then returns his attention to us.
“Want to take care of that right now?” I ask.
TJ rolls his eyes. “Nah. I’m out with the guys. I’ll deal with that later. For now, I want to hear why Hazel’s friend is making you crazy. Why do you care? You’ve made it abundantly clear you’re not in the market for romance.”
He’s right. So why has Bellamy claimed a patch of real estate in my head?
All I’m interested in is a good time. That’s all I’ve been interested in since Anna. There’s no room in my life for anything more. Running these parties solo takes up all my time.
Maybe I’m just caught up in Bellamy because of her podcast proposal.
“She wants to do a profile on my parties. I’m going to meet her tomorrow,” I tell them as we make our way toward the stage.
TJ nods like all that adds up. “That’s your thing, so it ought to be a no-brainer. Well, that and somehow proving you have the bigger dick than Coupled, Tinder, Match, and so on.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s not all it is.”
He scoffs, claps my back. “Right.”
“Sure. It’s totally not,” Nolan agrees.
“With friends like you two, who needs enemies,” I say drily.
“Anyway, it all sounds good, dude. I say meet her, do the piece, see if you can, I dunno, understand women for once,” TJ says. “And maybe stop trying to game everything. Come tomorrow, you’re going to figure out what she wants and you’ll decide then if you’ll give it to her. Easton, sometimes you complicate everything.”
I shoot him a searing stare. “And you don’t, Mister Romance Novelist?”
“I only complicate things that need complicating. Like stories. This is not a story. This is life. She wants something from you; you want something from her. Just go get it.”
His eyes stray to the stage when the lead singer comes on, crooning about lost love.
Something he knows far too much about.
Something I’ve been an expert on too.