Dean’s phone buzzes, and he pulls it from his pocket, reads the screen, and taps out what I’m assuming is a reply to a text before putting the phone facedown on the bar. “Well, I can’t do anything about Brinley, but I’ll talk to my sister.”
I gape at him. “You will do no such thing!”
“It’s not cool to ghost your friends just because you’re dating someone new. I taught her better than that.”
I roll my eyes. “She’s not ghosting me, so back off, Friendship Police.”
He stops his martini halfway to his lips and points at me. “I’m just looking out for you.”
I grin. “I can handle myself.”
“No doubt.” He drains his martini so quickly that I fear a contact buzz. His phone rattles against the bar again, and he flips it over and repeats the same routine from less than a minute ago.
“Who’s blowing up your phone?” I glance over my shoulder to where Amy’s sitting in a booth with the guy she was talking to earlier. “Is it her? She’s texting you while she’s on a date with someone else? Gross.”
Red crawls up his neck, and he studies his hands—his big, strong hands.
Sighing, I pull my gaze away before my thoughts can stray to forbidden territory—like how those hands might feel on cool skin or tangled in my hair. My libido wakes up at all the wrong moments.
He shrugs, nudging the empty martini glass to the side and reaching for his abandoned beer. “We’re still . . . friends, I guess.”
“Friends.” I wonder if I’m immature, because I can’t imagine being friends with someone so soon after they broke my heart. Hell, Cody broke up with me five years ago, and I still can’t imagine being friends with his cheating ass. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
He shrugs. “It is what it is. And before you say so, I do realize I made my bed and now I need to lie in it or whatever.”
“I’m not judging you for getting your heart broken. Not at all. You deserve better than her. So much better.”
“Right.” He grunts. “People always say that to the person who was dumped. I’m pretty sure if that were true, I wouldn’t be single right now.”
“You’re insane if you actually think she left you because you’re not good enough for her. Do you think Kace wasn’t good enough for her?”
He swallows. “Well, obviously not. They just fizzled out. But that isn’t what—” His phone buzzes again, and this time as he reads the screen, he actually scowls before he puts his phone back down.
“Abbi!” someone calls, right as I open my mouth to ask Dean about his latest text.
I turn to see Vincent Brunetti strolling up to the bar, a tight smile curving his lips that, on a woman, might be described as prissy. On Vince, the description still holds. This guy’s been trying to get me to go out with him for years. At this point, I don’t think it even has anything to do with attraction. I’ve accidentally made myself a challenge, and after a lifetime of getting everything he wants handed to him, Vince can’t stand that I keep saying no. He tugs on the lapels of his suit coat as he looks me over. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“She has a drink,” Dean says.
I nudge him to get him to shut up. Vince is just trying to be nice. “I’m all set. How are you, Vince?”
“I’d be better if I had you keeping me company tonight.” He nods to an empty booth across the room, where a pitcher of beer sits next to a tray of pizza. “What do you say? Impromptu date night. Let’s do it.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t. I have to leave soon.” A total lie. I fully intend to nurse this martini until it’s time for round two, but I’m not in the mood to deal with his whiny brand of “persuasion” at the moment.
“Someday, Abbi girl,” he says, waving a finger at me. “Someday, I’m gonna talk you into going out with me.”
“Maybe,” I say. “But not tonight.”
“I’ll take maybe,” he says, backing away. He bumps into a waitress, causing the tray of drinks in her hand to topple over.
Cringing, I wave to the girl behind the bar to hand me some towels.
“Aw, shit,” Vince says. “Did I do that?”
The waitress forces a smile over her scowl. “It’s fine. I’ve got it.”
“Cool, cool,” he says, and trots off to his booth.
She takes the towels from me and waves me off, so I return to my stool.
“Maybe?” Dean says next to me. “You gave that guy a maybe?”
“Well, I . . .” I did. I’m not exactly interested in a relationship with Vince, but I’m positive he wouldn’t say no to a casual fling. Since I don’t have any hopes riding on a relationship with him, it could be the perfect opportunity to grow more comfortable with the things a girl my age should already be comfortable with. Vince might not be my type, but it’d beat another lonely Netflix night.