As if he heard my thoughts, he glances at me. The smile remains on his face but stretches farther when our gazes meet. It’s sinful with full lips and straight, white teeth. He looks like a model who could sell me anything in an ad or a commercial. His gaze roams over me, his eyes dark with crinkles at the corners. Mmh. How old is he? He definitely doesn’t have a baby face that a lot of guys my age still have, including my ex. So maybe five years older than me? End twenties?
He hasn’t taken his eyes off me for even a second, and I’m growing feverish under my skin. What is this man doing to me?
Without any warning, or my approval, my mind jumps into comparison mode. I know I shouldn’t do it, but I can’t stop it either. Next to Ben, my ex-husband—will the word ex ever not taste bitter on my tongue?—this guy is all man.
Ben is twenty-four, like me, and everyone thinks our young age is the main reason our two-year marriage failed. So, maybe it’s not fair to compare my ex with a hot stranger who seems to have a few years on us, but my brain doesn’t seem to care.
The guy staring at me is a well-aged version of a wet dream, like he used every moment of his life to turn himself into this modern-day version of an Adonis. The total opposite of Ben with his slim build and blond hair. I once liked his smile and found it nice but definitely never sinful. To be honest, I’m not sure he could ever reach the same level even if he tried. Not that it’s my business anymore.
I want this stranger to find me attractive, because it’s been so long since I’ve felt desired. The thought alone sends a thrill down my spine.
When was the last time Ben had looked at me with desire?Yes, we had sex a few times before he dropped the bomb that he was leaving me, but thinking back to those times now, it’s easy to see that things were different. It was lust mixed with need. He’d needed a release. He’d needed to be pleased. Fucked. And I was there.
Stop.
Forget Ben.
Try, Harper. You’re here with your best friend. And this beautiful man keeps watching you rather than any other woman in the crowded bar.
Although I’m still not sure I should be staring at strangers in a bar, I’m disappointed when someone steps in front of him, severing our connection.
I glance at Tara who has a knowing smirk on her face “Wow. Now I finally know what they mean when they talk about deep and prolonged eye contact in romance novels.”
Heat spreads up my neck at her comment, but she isn’t wrong. My stranger’s gaze almost felt like a touch, it was that intense. My skin is still tingling.
Don’t get weird about this now. This is what you wanted, remember? A night to be brave. A night to be bold and adventurous. A new start for you.
While I’m giving myself a pep talk and take several gulps of my cocktail, I watch Tara and her guy having their own staring match, followed by them toasting to each other across the room.
To feel less like a spectator, I turn in my seat to face Tara, who’s sporting a huge grin.
She notices me staring at her and leans across the table. “Do you think I should go over there?”
I mirror her position and grin at her. “Do you want to go over there?”
“Hell, yes. But I don’t want to make it too easy.” She stares at her glass and downs the rest of her martini. “Oh, would you look at that? Seems like I need to order another drink . . . at the bar.”
I chuckle and shake my head at her. “Go, get your guy.”
This is how Tara’s always been. She knows what she wants and she goes for it. I love that about her, and that’s exactly what I should do tonight, channel my own go-getter attitude.
“And you’re sure you’re okay if I take off with him?”
“Yup.”
Her eyes narrow as she studies me. “One hundred percent?”
“Yeeeees.”
“Fine. But please text me when you get home, so I know you made it back safely. Or if you leave with your hottie.”
I grab her hand and squeeze. “Probably won’t happen, but deal. Now stop worrying about me. I’ll finish my drink and head home. Go make your bad decision already.”
“Happy New Year, Harps.”
“Happy New Year, Tara.”
After kissing my cheek, she spins on her black heels and heads toward the bar. A cat on the prowl, ready to play. Exactly like she said, she goes to the bar several feet away from the guys to order another drink. It doesn’t take more than a few seconds until her guy walks over and they’re talking. Smiles and laughs follow, with little touches on their arms and hands, and whispered words into their ears. Tara’s beaming, and I’m beginning to feel like a voyeur.