Page 17 of Free Agent
“Bad bitches.”
“You’re insane,” was my response, but… I didn’t fight it.
Why?
I couldn’t answer that.
Maybe I was just too emotionally overwhelmed for my brain to fire properly.
But instead of walking my ass back to my car and going home, I let this man, this stranger whose name I happened to know, pull me to a little booth in the hotel bar.
The insanity of it kept the tears at bay.
Which kept me in the seat, despite how awkward it was to have him sitting across from me, looking at me like he was figuring me out, then telling the server I wanted a double lemon drop and a water before ordering for himself.
“How did you know I wanted a lemon drop?” I asked as soon as they’d walked away to put in the order.
He grinned. “Well… it’s the only fruity drink I know besides a margarita, and I promised you a fruity drink, so… fingers crossed?”
“Actually…” I wrinkled my nose. “Sucks for you, cause I despise lemon drops, so…”
The smile sliding off his face actually made me feel a little bad. My biggest fucking problem, too worried about making a man feel bad, so I was quick to clean it up. “I’m kidding. A basic ass lemon drop does it for me every time,” I sighed, relaxing into the luxe leather of the booth.
He shrugged. “Nothing wrong with that. You seem bothered by it though. Why?”
“Because it’s predictable. Boring. It’s been my favorite drink since college,” I explained. “Which was what, thirteen, fourteen damn years ago?”
“I’m still not hearing the problem.”
I sucked my teeth. “People are supposed to grow and evolve. Adapt. Choose better. We’re supposed to move on from things, and… elevate. Not still be drinking stagnant-ass lemon drops.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but the server was back, so he waited until the drinks were dropped off, and we were alone again.
“Why do I feel like this actually has nothing to do with lemon drops?”
I raised an eyebrow at him and picked up my glass, draining it in one long, dramatic swallow.
“’Cause it’s not about the damn lemon drops.”
He’d been sipping from his own drink, bourbon and cola, while I answered. Now he nodded, putting the glass down. “Okay. So what is it about then?”
“You don’t have to pretend you haven’t heard anything about me.”
“Oh good then, so we can talk about you being… how did the screen phrase it? A tech mogul?” He grinned. “I looked into your app; that shit is cool.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it.”
He groaned, feigning annoyance before he leaned across the table a bit, holding my gaze. “Fine. We can talk about the loser.”
“The loser?”
“That’s what I’m calling him out of respect for the fact that you have his ring on your finger.”
“So you’re familiar with Monty?”
“I’m familiar with the look in your eyes.”
“You shouldn’t be decoding anything in my eyes.”