Chapter 2 #2
Turning her attention back to the man whose name she was pretty sure started with a Br, she smiled.
Though it was probably more of a pained grimace.
Not that the guy noticed. She took another long drink of her cocktail and nodded.
“Crypto. You’re raking it in and have an early lead on the next big thing.
” She definitely should have asked Maya for a full shot.
Hell, there wasn’t enough vodka in the world that would make this man tolerable.
Oblivious to her sarcasm, he grinned and continued to prattle on. About what? She didn’t really know or care.
Glancing at him, she pegged him to be somewhere in his mid to late thirties.
He was tallish and blond and handsome in a generic kind of way.
However, the more he talked, the less handsome he became.
From a professional standpoint, he probably used as much hair product as she did—and it took a lot of product to get her stick-straight hair to hold a curl.
That alone shouldn’t irritate her, but it did.
In a nutshell, the man appeared harmless. A bit douchey, but still harmless. But damn, did he like the sound of his own voice. She should have gotten up and left when he initially sat beside her. She should have told him the seat was taken. She should have refused the drink.
But did she do any of those things?
Of course not.
Because she didn’t rock the boat. Ever.
Being a people pleaser who hated confrontation, she’d stayed glued to her seat, wishing she had the guts to tell this guy to go away.
“Now, I asked myself, Bray, are you going to let that little lady sit all alone?” He chuckled, shooting her a wink. “I just couldn’t do it, gorgeous. And since you’ve let me talk your ear off, how about you let me buy you another drink?”
Brayden. That was his name. And of course he talked about himself in third person.
She caught Maya’s gaze across the bar and widened her eyes. Please, help me! When her friend gave her a slight nod and held up a single finger, she thanked the female-telepathy gods.
Freya took another gulp of her drink, set her glass back on the coaster, and shook her head. “No thanks, I’m good. Like I said, I’m waiting for someone.”
“So you’ve said, but yet you’ve been sitting here with me for the last ten minutes.”
It was going on twenty, but who was counting?
She was going to kill Hazel when the woman arrived. If she ever arrived. “Because my friend isn’t here yet.”
He flashed her another smarmy grin. “Isn’t that convenient?”
This guy needed to seriously go the hell away. “She’s just running late. In fact, she should be here any moment.”
He gave her a look that said he obviously didn’t believe her. “How about I buy you dinner and we get to know each other better?”
Simmering irritation had heat flooded over her cheeks. “No, thank you.”
“Oh, come on. How long did you say you were staying here for?”
She hadn’t. In fact, aside from her name, she hadn’t mentioned anything about herself. She’d barely spoken a word since he’d sat down, and considering the man had been talking nonstop, he’d also never asked.
“I’m pretty sure Freya’s boyfriend wouldn’t appreciate her having dinner with some random guy,” Maya said, refilling her water glass. “Need anything else, sweetie?”
Food. But not while Brayden was still sitting here. Instead, she gave her friend a grateful smile. “I’m good for now, thanks.”
“Boyfriend, eh?” He waggled his eyebrows.
Maya snorted and waved at her. “Dude, of course she has a boyfriend.”
She didn’t, but good God, did she love her friend.
He clapped his hands together. “Well then, challenge accepted.”
Wait, what?
She frowned and held up her hand. “Uh, there’s no challenge. Look, it was kind of you to buy me a drink, but I will happily pay you back for it because . . . just no.”
“Loosen up, gorgeous. How about this?” Brayden leaned closer, and she leaned away. He flashed her a smile that she was certain was supposed to be charming. It wasn’t. “If your friend doesn’t show up in the next five minutes, you let me buy you dinner. Your boyfriend doesn’t need to know.”
There was no way this guy could be serious. But one look at his slimy, lecherous smirk said otherwise. Gross. Her brain scrambled for a snappy come back and—
“Shit, dude. You’re a persistent one, aren’t you?” a familiar voice huffed.
Turning in her barstool, Freya let out a thankful breath.
“Sorry I’m so late,” Hazel said and then glanced at Brayden. “You’re in my seat.”
Brayden held up his hands, gave Hazel an appreciative once-over, and smirked as he stood.
“Just keeping your friend company.” He turned back to her.
“Freya, it was lovely meeting you. As I mentioned, I’m here for the next week.
We should get together before you check out. Another drink or dinner or . . .”
She internally winced as he let the innuendo hang there. “Brayden,” she said, giving him a nod. Gah! What is wrong with you? Fuck off is the appropriate response to the creeper!
Hazel cleared her throat as the man lingered. “Chop-chop, buddy. You’re blocking my seat.”
“My apologies,” he said, stepping aside and holding his hand out to assist Hazel.
“I’m good,” Hazel said, brushing his hand away. Once she was settled on her barstool, she turned to him and smiled sweetly. “You can go now.”
Brayden chuckled and nodded to a table in the corner where two similarly dressed men sat. “If you change your mind about dinner, Freya—or about anything else—I’ll be over there. And just so we’re clear, I have no problems with you having a boyfriend. I can be discreet.”
As he walked away, Hazel shook her head and muttered, “Holy shit. Why were you sitting with that douche?”
Freya arched an eyebrow at her friend. “You’re kidding, right?”
Hazel arched an eyebrow right back. “And when did you get a boyfriend?”
“Uh, when you took your sweet-ass time getting here?” Maya thunked a glass of water down in front of Hazel. “The poor thing was like a deer in headlights with that guy. Now what can I get you?”
“Geez, I said I was sorry.” Hazel held her hands up before checking out the placard with the drink specials. “Miriam said I get a couple free drinks, so can I get a shot of Patron and the spicy prickly pear margarita?”
“You got it. But you owe her, Hazel,” Maya replied, pointing at Freya. “Big-time. That guy was a lot.”
Hazel met Freya’s gaze and cringed. “I really am sorry, but I have a good excuse for why I’m late this time. I swear.”
Freya held back an eye roll. Barely. Hazel always had a good excuse. Sighing, she waved her hand in a circular get-on-with-it gesture.
“Do you remember that really hot guy I told you about?” Hazel’s smile was gigantic. “The one I met at the gym a few weeks ago who works for the security company? Sandy-brown hair, tall, ripped, could be a cover model, oozes sex appeal?”
“Please.” Maya scoffed, placing Hazel’s drinks in front of her. “You’ve basically just described every single guy who works out at that gym.”
Freya chuckled. Her friend wasn’t wrong.
The De La Rosa Gym was an elite fight gym located on the northeast corner of Hudson Island, not too far from the resort. Some of the world’s top MMA fighters, boxers, and martial artists trained there.
They were open to public membership, but Freya wasn’t a member.
However, since she drove by the gym on her way to and from work, she should probably join one of these days.
She’d taken a few of their self-defense classes, and distractingly hot guys aside, it was a really nice, low-key gym.
Get fit had a perennial spot on her running to-do list, but after being on her feet all day, working out at a gym didn’t sound nearly as good as vegging on her couch.
Hazel’s perfectly painted lips pursed. “True. But this guy is like hot hot. Frey, remember I told you how I asked him to spot me last week?”
“Oh, holy shit, of course you did,” Maya grumbled, shaking her head as she made her way down the bar to the other guests.
Freya snickered. Hazel’s excuses for being late always involved a hot guy. Her friend attracted the stupidly hot guys of the universe, while she unfortunately tended to attract the Braydens of the world.
Freya knew she was cute. Growing up, she’d been called her mother’s mini.
She’d inherited her Filipino mom’s petite frame, tan skin, and long black hair.
The only difference between them were Freya’s ice-blue eyes that she and all her brothers had gotten from their Norwegian father.
A familiar pang squeezed her heart at the thought of her parents.
Shoving the uncomfortable feeling away—this was neither the time nor the place for a pity party—she focused back on her friend.
Hazel was on the opposite end of the spectrum of cute. Simply put, the woman was unfairly stunning. She was a green-eyed, taller version of Margot Robbie.
Yeah. Ridiculous.
Standing at five-two, Freya looked like a child next to her friend’s statuesque five-ten.
When she’d first started at Pacific View and met Hazel, she’d been intimidated as hell because of the whole Margot Robbie-doppelganger thing, but after five minutes, she’d realized Hazel was not only fiery and sassy in a way that Freya envied, but she was also really sweet.
“So this hot guy . . .” Freya prodded before taking the final sip of her lavender lemon drop.
Hazel let out a dreamy sigh. “So after I met with Miriam, I was on my way here and ran into him—Carmichael—in the hallway outside the lounge of all places. What are the odds, right?”
Freya’s eyebrows rose. The guest areas of the resort were just that. Exclusively for guests. It was a rare thing to run into a local who wasn’t an employee. “Yeah, that is a surprise.”
“Right? Anyway, Carmichael and I got to talking, and I lost track of time. I hope you don’t mind, but I kinda sorta invited him to join us. Is that okay?”