Harper, once again, didn’t say anything. What was the point? No one would listen. Following her friends to the bar, she stood at the counter as her friends ordered a drink. Within seconds they were being asked to dance. A guy asked her, and she shook her head. The last thing she was interested in was getting groped.
“Come on, Harp, dance,” Lara said.
“Nope. I’ll babysit the drinks.” She hopped onto a stool, and waved them off. Resting her head in her hand, she watched as Lara and Betty gave in to the mad crowd. It had to have been less than five minutes they were inside the nightclub.
“Here you go, miss,” the barman said.
“Thanks.”
Guarding three drinks, she took a sip of her own, some kind of fruity thing, and struggled as the drink burned her throat.
“Not much of a drinker?”
Harper turned to see a guy sitting a couple of seats away. He was around her age, maybe a little older.
“No. What gave it away?”
He got up and took a step toward her. “Many things. The way you stared at all the drinks, the tentative sip, and the look of horror on your face. Damian Denton.” He held his hand out.
“Denton? Isn’t that the name of this place?”
“Usually women offer their names.”
“Oh, Harper Mavis.” She shook his hand, noticing how firmly he held hers. “So, Denton?”
“I’m the son.”
“The only one?”
Damian burst out laughing. “Nope. Not even close. I have five brothers, and a sister. Not to mention cousins.”
“Wow, big family.”
“Yep.”
She took another sip of her drink, not knowing what else to say. “I don’t do this.”
“What?”
“Talk. To strangers.”
“You’re so sweet.”
“How old are you?” Harper asked.
“This is a really interesting conversation.”
“You do know that is strange.”
“I’m twenty-three years old.”
Licking her lips, she nodded. He was close to her in age. “Your family owns this?”
“Among other things.”
“Why do I feel like you’re laughing at me?” she asked.
“I’m not laughing. I find this entirely refreshing.”