He strolls away, and I turn and flag the bartender down. “Vodka rocks.” I slide a tenner across the counter. It’s an open bar, but tipping ensures better service. I’ll need a few more of these if I have to deal with all the love going around.
Taking my drink, I turn my back to the bar and notice a tall, slender specimen of male waiting beside me. He orders a vodka rocks, and I quickly assess him. Dolce & Gabbana suit, fatigue-green and stainless Tag, light scruff on the cheeks. Interesting. Stepping back, he catches my inspection and pauses. I lift my chin and own it. After the house I grew up in, men don’t intimidate me.
Apparently, I don’t intimidate him either. Even more interesting.
He exhales a laugh, revealing nice white teeth. “Are you here for the bride or the groom?”
“Hmm...” I realize I’m not sure how to answer that question. I’m equally acquainted with both. “Groom, I guess.”
“You guess?”
“I’m friends with both, but I knew Derek first.”
“A
h,” he nods.
“You?”
“Bride.” Then he hesitates, taking a sip of his drink. “Actually, no, that’s not right. I guess my answer is the same as yours. Only in reverse.”
He looks out at the dance floor where the happy couple hasn’t stopped slow-dancing since they arrived. Something wistful is on his face, and I can’t resist.
“You have a history with Melissa?”
Blinking hazel-green eyes back at me he seems to wake up. “We were childhood friends. It’s unexpected to see them all married.”
“I’m never getting married.” Good god, Amy, over-share much? Looking down at my drink, I realize it’s nearly empty. I’m more relaxed than I realized.
My companion doesn’t skip a beat. “Is that so?” he chuckles. “And what are you? Eighteen?”
Irritation burns in my chest. Treating me like a baby is not a good idea. “I’m twenty five, and I guess that’s a compliment?”
“Baby,” he exhales, turning back to the bar.
“Old man,” I say, waving at the bartender and ordering another.
“Old man?” The guy turns to the side and leans on his elbow facing me. “You think ordering another is a good idea?”
“I can outdrink you any day of the week.” No idea what I’m doing right now.
He gives me a player’s grin. “I’m a lawyer.”
“So you’re an asshole who’s about to be outdrunk by a baby.”
Something flickers in his eyes. It’s a spark I’ve seen before, and it usually leads to naughty places. “I haven’t played drinking games since college.”
“Is that fear I’m hearing?”
“Line ‘em up.”
He slides a hand to his waist, moving his suit coat back to reveal a trim physique. Yes. Something naughty might be just what I need to get the funk of Paris off me. It is a wedding, after all. Isn’t everyone supposed to hook up?
“I have a better idea,” I say, waving to the bartender again. “We’ll take the bottle.”
The well-tipped server is happy to oblige, and I grab it, two glasses, and my black clutch. “This way, lawyer.”
A small billiards room is off the main ballroom, and it’s completely empty. The reception party is focused on the room where the food, drinks, and band are located. Striding into the cozy, dim-lit space, I place the full bottle of vodka and two slim glasses on a tall table with two bar stools.