THREE
Noah
I noticed the girl the moment she took a seat at the bar—long before I caught her staring at me. She was young and pretty, carrying a purple martini with a yellow flower floating in it. If I’d been ten years younger, I would have found an excuse to go talk to her. Hell, maybe even if I’d been just five years younger.
But the girl was too young for me now, plus I highly doubted she’d be into... the kind of things I was into.
It’s been more than two months, a voice inside my head said. Do you really want to be picky?
No, I didn’t, but women her age weren’t usually cool with one-night stands. They were always looking for relationships, and that wasn’t something I was willing to do right now.
Certainly not with a girl who looked just old enough to be sitting at that bar.
I’d come here tonight with a single goal, to meet Patrick and Shannon, and now that it had been accomplished, I knew I should head home. I liked taking risks, but something tugged inside me, warning me not to. This girl would be nothing but trouble.
For a brief moment, I thought she knew the guy sitting beside her, but I was less sure each time I glanced over. The way she leaned away from him, how she didn’t seem to want to give him her attention, made me think he was hitting on her, and she wasn’t receptive at all.
Except my resolve to steer clear faltered when we locked gazes with each other, and she’d flashed me a sexy little smirk. Her eyes held secrets, and they whispered about how much fun it would be to tease them out.
Fuck, my weakness was confident women.
It was why most of my recent relationships had been with older women. They’d grown out of their shyness, or inexperience, or politeness, and were less afraid to tell me exactly how they wanted it.
Sex had become more fun, and infinitely hotter.
Maybe this girl knew what she wanted, but chances were we wanted very different things. So I turned my attention back to Patrick and Shannon, finished the last swallow of my drink, and paid for the round.
I moved toward the exit, slower than I should have, like I was looking for a reason to stay.
“Because, asshole,” the girl said forcefully, “I told you I don’t want to talk to you.”
That forced me into action. My feet carried me swiftly toward the girl, and the word burst from my lips. “Hey.”
The bartender, like half the people in the restaurant, had picked up on the tension and was making his way toward the girl, but as soon as he laid eyes on me, he hesitated.
The girl turned in her seat, looked up at me, and seemed to stop breathing.
Maybe I did too.
Shit, she was even prettier up close. Her honey blonde hair was wavy with big curls, and her bright blue eyes popped against her fair skin. Her makeup was meticulous, and her sleeveless shirt was cut low enough to flaunt her appealing cleavage. The girl was slender, even her face, which accentuated her full lips.
Everything about her screamed high maintenance, yet I was still drawn in. She was so sexy, and I was so starved for attention I was willing to ignore every warning sign.
Her lips parted as if she were going to say something, but it never came. The silence stretched between us.
The expression on the guy’s face sitting next to her filled with irritation. “Oh, this must be the boyfriend you’ve been waiting for.”
“Yeah, that’s me,” I said instantly.
Boyfriend? What the fuck are you doing?
It was too late to take it back. I grabbed the stool beside her and plopped down at the bar, committing to the bit. I did my best to make it sound casual and familiar. “How was your day, sweetheart?”
A single blink was all it took to wipe the surprise from the girl’s face. “It just got a lot better now that you’re here.”
I wanted to chuckle at her meaning, but I merely smiled. And then I motioned to her mostly empty martini and the puddle of vodka around it. “Do you need another drink?”
She angled her shoulders to face me, blocking the other guy out, and her tone went warm and soft. “Yeah, that would be great.”
Shit, she was such a great actress that for a split second she had me convinced we were together.
I was about to ask her what type of drink, but she had me covered. “Lavender martini.” She brushed a lock of hair back over her shoulder. “How was your day?”
“It was fine,” I answered truthfully. “Busy.”
The bartender had gone back to mixing the cocktail he’d been working on, but he glanced in our direction. It wasn’t to acknowledge my presence; it was probably more to check on the girl and make sure she was doing okay.
As soon as he placed the drink in front of the customer, I motioned to him. “When you have a minute, she’d like a—”
“Lavender martini,” he replied, nodding. His focus slipped from us to the man seated beside her, and it was obvious he didn’t like what he saw.
“You two don’t look like a couple,” the man grumbled, maybe more to himself than us. His gaze wheeled around and landed on me for a moment. “Isn’t she kind of young for you, bro?”
The man’s eyes were rimmed with red, and the way they bounced around... He was high on something. Coke? Molly? A fuck ton of Adderall? It didn’t matter. I’d seen all sorts of shit during my stint in private wealth management at Hale Banking and Holding, and had a massive aversion to drugs these days.
So my pulse ratcheted up, right along with my desire to keep this girl from having to interact with him a moment longer.
Before I could open my mouth to say anything, the girl’s head whipped around to face him. “I like that my man’s older.” Her voice filled with smoke as she glanced back at me. “Isn’t that right, Daddy ?”
Fucking hell.
If someone had asked me five minutes ago if this was one of my kinks, I would have said no, but now? Her eyes smoldered, and I worried I might sweat right through my shirt. The idea of being this little girl’s ‘daddy’ was way more appealing than it should have been.
And it wasn’t a stretch to say she looked the part of a spoiled brat, either.
I was happy to play my role and tried to match the heat she’d put in her voice. “That’s right, baby girl.”
Her grin was wide.
Less pleased was the guy beside her. The moment my statement registered, he looked like he’d swallowed his tongue. His head jerked back, and his upper lip lifted with disgust, so her gamble seemed to work. He swiped up his drink and guzzled the rest of it, choosing to ignore us.
“Can I get you anything, sir?” the bartender asked as he delivered her a fresh martini.
No, the voice in my head warned. It’ll make it harder to leave.
My fake girlfriend was probably trying not to look too needy, but her expression pleaded with me to stay.
“Sure,” I said. “I’ll take a pint of Heineken.” I didn’t have any other plans tonight, and one drink wasn’t going to be the end of the world.
Relief coasted through her expression, and she leaned an elbow on the bar. “Why was your day so busy?”
I considered how to answer in case the guy next to her was listening, wanting to keep up the game. “I had that big meeting with a potential client today, remember?”
She hid a smile behind the rim of her martini glass before taking a sip. “Oh, that’s right. How’d it go?”
“Good. He signed.”
“Oh, that’s awesome.” She sounded genuinely happy for me. Like I was a friend and not a total stranger. “Congrats.”
“Thanks.” I tried not to focus on her lips or think about what they’d taste like. Probably lavender martini, dipshit. I straightened in my seat. “Your day wasn’t good?”
She gave a humorless laugh. “No, it wasn’t.” She hesitated, unsure of how to explain. “You know how I had that partnership deal with Blooming Sage?”
Um . . . “Sure,” I lied.
A frown slid across her lips. “I’m going to have to pull out.”
The bartender delivered my pint, and movement caught my eye. The guy sitting beside her held up his empty glass and proclaimed it loudly for everyone to hear. “I’ll take another.”
Rather than move, the bartender evaluated the man critically. “How about a water or a Coke instead?”
Confusion contorted his face, quickly followed by offense. “What?”
The bartender crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not serving you another drink.”
“Why the hell not?”
The bartender’s eyebrow lifted into a sharp, upside-down V. “Come on, man. You know why.”
The tension between them was thick, and I didn’t want it to escalate any further. “Hey,” I announced, “let me call you an Uber.”
The man looked at me like I’d just offered to spit in his face. “What?”
Everyone except the man knew this was only going to end one way—which was with him leaving. I didn’t care where he went after he left the bar, but I didn’t want him driving. “Hey, it’s no big deal.” I tried to sound friendly, even though I felt none of it. “I’ll even pay for it, if you’d like.”
Yet the man continued to look offended. His gaze narrowed on me before turning toward the bartender, whose expression was steely. No amount of convincing was going to change the guy’s mind and get the man another drink.
So he hopped down off his bar stool and wobbled on his unsteady feet as he pulled out his phone. “I can call my own damn Uber.”
The girl said nothing as he shuffled his way toward the front of the restaurant, but as he disappeared out the front door, she let out a heavy breath. The bartender returned to his other customers, and she leaned close to me, lowering her voice. “What the fuck was his deal? Was he on something?”
“Oh, yeah,” I said. “He was high as fuck.”
Her shoulders relaxed. “Well, thanks for coming over and pretending to be my boyfriend.”
“Don’t you mean Daddy?” I teased.
She grinned, and I pretended not to see the heat in her eyes as she took another sip of her martini. “Right.” Then she set her glass down and extended her hand. “I’m Charlotte.”
“Noah.” I took her offered hand. “And you’re welcome.”
We lapsed into silence, and I wracked my brain trying to come up with small talk, because I couldn’t imagine we had much in common.
“What you said about signing a new client. True?” she asked.
I nodded. “It was.” I left out that it was my first official client since starting my new role.
She picked up her martini and held it toward me. “In that case, cheers.”
I obliged, clicking our glasses together.
We both took our customary sips, and she glanced across the way to the now empty table where I’d been seated. “Your... friends didn’t want another round?”
She was fishing for information, and I held back my smile. I couldn’t blame her for being curious, but I wasn’t going to tell her about my ‘date.’ “No, we just wanted to grab one drink together.” I needed to shift the conversation away from that. “How about you?”
Her expression was suddenly guarded. “What about me?”
She obviously hadn’t come to the bar for a drink. “When you showed up, you were already carrying a martini.”
Charlotte made a face, and it looked like she was considering whether she should tell me. Once the decision had been made, her shoulders slumped. “Okay, so, I was on a date.”
“Uh-oh.” I hesitated. “That bad, huh?”
“Yeah,” she said flatly. “I mean, he just got up and left.”
Warning alarms triggered in my head. What on Earth had she said that sent the guy running? I hoped my expression looked blank and not judgmental. “He walked out in the middle of your date?”
She stared at her drink and traced the stem of the glass with a fingertip. “It wasn’t during the middle, it was right at the beginning. We’d just sat down at the table, and I’d ordered my drink when he suddenly got up and hightailed it for the exit.” Her tone was embarrassed. “He sent me a text message right after, saying that something came up and he was sorry.” She tossed up a hand. “Whatever. The whole thing was super weird, and I shouldn’t have said yes to that date in the first place. I didn’t know the guy, and even before he bailed on me, I knew it wasn’t going anywhere.”
It just fell out of my mouth. “Then why did you say yes?”
“He was cute, and...” She glanced at me and licked her lips, nervous. “I’ve had a rough few months. It was nice to have someone interested in me for once.” Her eyes abruptly went wide. “Oh, God, that makes me sound pathetic, doesn’t it?”
“No, it doesn’t,” I said quickly. “To be honest, it’s been the same for me recently.”
Her eyebrows tugged together, shooting me a look like that couldn’t possibly be right. “You?” She shook her head, making little waves ripple through her blonde hair. “No way.”
“Afraid that’s a true story.”
“Well, that’s not true anymore.” The corner of her lips hinted at a smile. “I thought I made my interest pretty clear.”
Shit, she had a point, and I found myself smiling back at her. “Yeah, well, I didn’t like how that guy was bothering you,” I admitted, “but I’m glad it gave me an excuse to come talk to you.”
“Me too.”
We were both quiet for a moment, and I glanced around at our surroundings. “This place is nice. Have you been here before?”
“No, I think it just opened.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize.” It made sense. The place was trendy, clean, and filled with people. The newness of it was obvious now. “I just moved here.”
Charlotte tilted her head. “Yeah? From where?”
“New York.” I felt the need to elaborate. “Manhattan.”
She peered at me dubiously. “What, are you, like, a finance bro?”
It had been a joking question, but she wasn’t wrong, and I tried not to sound sheepish. “I was, yeah.”
She seemed surprised and perhaps a bit impressed, which was a nice change of pace for me. Pretty much everyone held their nose while talking to me when I’d been at HBHC. Sure, they liked me when I was making them money, but otherwise I was viewed as a pariah.
“Okay, wow,” she said. “What brought you to Nashville?”
“A new job. But actually, I grew up around here. My parents still live in town.”
I didn’t tell her the truth, that it was my father’s health that had brought me back home and not my career. I was the youngest of my siblings, and my dad was already in his late thirties when I was born. Now he was seventy-one, with a back shot to shit from years working as a roadie, and a recent pancreatic cancer diagnosis.
He was stubborn as fuck too, in complete denial of what his physical limitations were now. Even if he’d let my mother help him—which he wouldn’t—she wasn’t able to. As the baby of the family, unmarried and without kids, my older brothers had elected me as his new caregiver.
Telling her that wasn’t sexy. Plus, how would this twenty-something girl relate to any of that?
“Yeah. My parents still live around here too.” There was something off about her tone. She’d sounded... sad?
“Are you close?”
“To my parents?” Her reaction told me this was a touchy subject. “I guess. Not as close as I used to be.”
Family was complicated and I didn’t want to pry, so I shifted the conversation, asking what had happened with her brand partnership. She told me how hard she’d been working to build up her business, and the first company willing to work with her was now embroiled in a PR nightmare.
“You’re an influencer?” Shit, I hoped she couldn’t hear the disdain in my voice.
It shouldn’t have been there, anyway. There was a lot of money in that industry, and she was running a small business. I shouldn’t judge or look down on her. Didn’t I know exactly how that felt?
What a pair we made to the outside world. Me, a greedy stockbroker, and her, a vapid social media influencer. Maybe we had more in common than I thought.
I adjusted my tone and pushed out a smile. “That’s cool.”
She didn’t look convinced but shrugged one shoulder. “It has its moments. Times when the work is fun and doesn’t feel like work, you know?” Her lips skewed to one side. “And then there’s days like today.”
“I think most jobs are like that,” I said.
“I guess I’m unlucky,” she said, “because I’ve hated every job I’ve ever had.”
I let out half a laugh. “When I started at my firm in Manhattan, I loved the work. I liked the,” I searched for the right word, “challenge of it. But by the end? Yeah, I definitely didn’t love it anymore.”
There’d been times I’d come away hating myself. My only escape had been the club, and that wasn’t a healthy way to deal with the stress. I was so burned out I could barely function.
“How about your new job? Do you like it?”
“So far, so good.” It was drastically different than HBHC and seemed to be the reset I needed.
We made more small talk as we finished our drinks, and I got the impression we were both avoiding any kind of details. I took it as a good sign. Maybe I’d misjudged her, and Charlotte wasn’t looking for anything serious. She told me she’d come out on a date tonight because she’d been looking for some ‘interest,’ and I was plenty willing to give her that.
She set her empty glass on the bar and then gave me a playful look. “I finished my drink, Daddy.” It was impossible to know if there was lust in her eyes—or if I just wished there were. Her head quirked to the side, and she asked it like it was rhetorical. “Should we head back to your place?”
“Sounds like a plan, sweetheart.”