Chapter 13
“Are you going to the show tonight?” Daniel stands from his seat and drops a tip on the table.
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
“Would you like to join me for a nightcap at Martinis?”
“That’s the martini bar, right?”
“What gave it away?” he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Narrowing my eyes, I scowl in jest. “Don’t be a wise-ass.”
“Come on, friend. I’ll buy you a drink.” He holds his hand out to me.
“Dude, here’s some free advice.” I take his hand, feeling a comforting touch as he pulls me out of my seat. “Get a new line.”
“Why? It worked on you.”
Satiated with bellies full of mouthwatering Italian delicacies, we follow a path illuminated by warm, white solar lights, casting a gentle glow on the walkway leading us towards Martinis. Soft, romantic music plays from the fake stone speakers. I look up at the dark sky. A radiant moon smiles down upon us, its ethereal glow mesmerizing me.
“Coco sure looked interested in you this afternoon,” I tease.
“Coco?”
“The redhead flirting with you at the pool.”
“You were spying on us?” he accuses, a playful smile emerging on his lips.
“What?” My eyes widen. “Absolutely not.”
“Yes, you were. Jealous?”
“Pfft. Hardly. You’re both adults. If you want to…” — I clear my throat — “whatever… it’s none of my business.”
“Hmm Mmm.” Playfully, he nudges my shoulder with his.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I scowl. “I take it back.”
“Take what back?”
“You are a conceited jerk.”
“Maybe a little cocky,” he concedes.
“Yeah, if by a little, you mean entirely,” I scoff with a trace of a smile.
“Though, I will admit, in the case of the redheaded seductress, this cocky jerk was not the true object on her amorous radar.”
“What do you mean?”
“Let’s just say the redhead had ulterior motives.”
“I’m not following…”
“She may have been talking to me—but she was sending a message to someone else.”
“Wait a minute.” My eyes widen and I grab his arm. “The Silver Fox?”
“Who?”
“Gabriel. The guy at the receiving end of her angry clipboard.”
He cocks his head to the side and casually shrugs. “Well, it sure wasn’t Walter.”
“Poor Walter. Even with a bullseye you can’t miss—no one’s aiming for that target.”
As we settle into the cozy ambiance at a small cocktail table tucked away in the back of the room, our server carefully places our drinks on the hotel logo embossed coasters before us. The soft glow of white votive candles illuminates the dimly lit space, casting dancing shadows on each table. In the corner of the room, a pianist skillfully plays a mixture of romantic love songs and crowd-pleasing sing-a-longs on a shiny black grand piano. The vibrant melodies mingle with the lively chatter of patrons who’ve been getting their drunk on for a while, enthusiastically calling out song requests between applause.
The scent of fresh citrus fills the air, probably from the assortment of fruity garnishes artfully arranged on the long, white marble bar for the bartenders.
“So, there’s no significant other waiting for you back home?” Daniel asks casually, taking a sip of his dirty martini.
“Nope. Single and not ready to mingle.” I take a quick mouthful of my cosmopolitan. “You?”
“An ex-wife. I’m sure she’s glad she’s still in New York with her new husband instead of here with me.”
I offer my sympathy, reaching over the table and rest my hand gently atop his. “I’m sorry.”
He chuckles. “Don’t be. I’d rather she be there with him too.”
“When did she remarry?”
“The night before we arrived here. She eloped.”
“Is that why you were hungover on the plane?” I ask.
“It showed, huh?”
“Your bloodshot eyes kinda gave it away.”
“Guess I drank a little too much when I heard.”
“Because you still care for her?”
His brow furrows, he shakes his head, and chuckles again. “Because I finally got rid of her.”
“You were celebrating?” I ask, my surprise apparent in my voice.
“Some people aren’t marriage material. She is some people.”
“But she remarried.”
“And now she’s someone else’s problem. The poor guy. He has no idea what he’s in for. I give it six months. Tops.”
“Isn’t it weird… watching someone you once loved fall in love with someone else?”
He pauses, his head tilting to the side, his eyes studying me intently.
Did I say too much? Divulge truths I’m not ready to share?
“I’m a firm believer that things happen the way they’re supposed to. Call it fate, karma… whatever. All we can do is sit back, let the universe do its thing, and enjoy the ride.” He takes another sip of his drink. “Did someone do you wrong too?”
“That’s an understatement,” I reply with bitterness, thinking back to the mess I left back home.
“Care to elaborate?”
“Not really.”
“Still raw?”
“Something like that.” I purposely keep things vague. This is a nice change—being with someone who doesn’t know my story. Who won’t give me the well-meaning looks of pity and concern everyone at home offers. Someone who doesn’t define me by my relationship failure.
“Just so you know,” he says softly, leaning in closer. “Anyone who’d let you slip through their fingers is a fool.”
A knot tightens in my throat, and I glance down at the table, fighting back tears. I gather my courage and meet his gaze. “How can you say that? You barely know me.”
“I know enough,” he says, settling back in his chair.
“Thank you.” My heart flutters, a mix of emotions swirling inside me. “I didn’t think you liked me very much.”
“What?” he asks in mock surprise. “I absolutely adore you. After all, we’re best friends.”
“Yeah, for the past two hours,” I say cynically.
“But it’s been a great two hours. Hasn’t it?”
“It has,” I answer honestly.
Truth is, talking to Daniel is easy—and fun. The heaviness in my heart lightens with each smile he draws out of me. Every time I slip, intentionally or unintentionally, he catches me before I come crashing down.
“I’m willing to admit, I may have a few flaws…” he begins.
“You mean a few hundred,” I interrupt.
He fakes a stern look and continues. “But I’m loyal.”
I swallow a mouthful of my tasty pink cocktail. “That’s refreshing.”
“Your drink?”
“No. Loyalty.”
“What number Cosmopolitan is this?” I ask, pointing at the nearly empty martini glass in front of me.
“Two.”
“I better stop. Bad news comes in threes.”
“Nah, threes are great. There’s the Jonas Brothers, the Beastie Boys, the Hanson Brothers. Where would the world be without MMMBop?”
“Oh, I’ve got a three. I’m teetering on being three sheets to the wind.” With a triumphant smile, I raise my glass to the sky.
“Here’s to three sheets.” Daniel raises his martini glass and clinks mine.
“And the sheet-head ex who didn’t deserve me.”
“Were you trying to say shithead?”
“Yup. He was a garbage human. Trash. The sleaze of balls.”
“A toast to your ex.” Daniel raises his glass again. “The douche of bags.”
I cock my head to the side with a bemused smile.
He gets it.
My name calling.
No one in my real life ever grasped it and looked at me like I was crazy when I’d go off on a tangent. Which admittedly was often.
“The rat of finks,” I add.
“The pond of scums.”
“Oh, you’ve met him?” I joke. “The ass of wipes.”
“The slime of buckets,” he counters with a raised brow, challenging me to one-up him.
I narrow my eyes and smirk. “The scum of bags.”
“The dumb of fucks,” he says, wiggling his brows.
“The dick of heads.”
“He sounds like a real catch,” Daniel jokes.
“Oh, I sure can pick ‘em.” Tipping my glass, I swallow my last mouthful.
“It’s late. Maybe we should call it a night,” he says.
“You’re right. I’ve hit my limit. Anyway, I have to get up early and beat my asshole neighbor to a shady chair.”
“Tess?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m the asshole neighbor.”
“Oh yeah.” Wincing, I cover my big mouth with my hand. Booze brain brings out the stupid. I should probably lower my drink limit to one. “Sorry. I forgot.”
“Sleep in. I’ll make sure you have a lounge chair.”
“But you don’t believe in saving seats.”
“True. But I believe in saving souls.”
“Whose soul are you saving? Mine?” My eyes meet his. “Or yours?”
He stands, throws a few dollars on the table, and offers his hand to me. “Come on, friend. Let’s go.”
“Tonight was unexpected,” I say as we saunter up the walkway towards our building.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I had a good time. The last time I had a nice time out was forever ago.” I can’t help but smile as I recall the evening.
He smiles warmly back. “Same.”
“Daniel?”
“Hmm?”
“I kinda like being your friend,” I confess, my words floating in the space between us.
“Is that you or the alcohol talking?”
“Probably a little of both,” I admit.
He chuckles and stares up at the starlit night sky. “Swiss.”
“Hmm?”
“Tonight’s moon is made of Swiss cheese.”
I smile at his whimsical observation and glance up at the glowing orb. “I thought I saw him smiling at us before.”
“Did you smile back?”
“I did.”
“Lucky moon.”
Tilting my head slightly, my brows furrow.
“You have a beautiful smile,” he says, his words catching me off guard.
“Is that a line?” I ask skeptically.
“No.”
“Sounds like a line,” I tease, trying to hide the effect his words have on me.
“The moon may light up the earth, but your smile lights it right back.”
“Ah, that was a line.”
“No,” he says. “That was the truth.”
“Oh.” My heart races and pulse quickens at one of the sweetest things ever said to me.
Jorge was right. Love, romance… there’s something in the air.
Something I need to avoid at all costs.
I quickly dismiss the thought. I’m misreading this. It’s a minor lapse caused by Cosmopolitan brain—Vodka, Cointreau, cranberry juice with a twist of lime induced feels. Like the booze, these uninvited feelings will wear off by morning.
Daniel was being polite, like he always is—when he’s not being a pain-in-my-ass. He’s not interested in me. Not that way. He’s made that clear.
And I’m not interested in him.
I sneak a peek at his profile, dark against the moonlight.
God, he’s handsome. So damned handsome.
Nope.
No interest at all.
We reach our building and he escorts me to my room. I turn to him with my back pressed against the door, a whisper away from touching.
“Here we are.” I look up at him uneasily.
“Here we are,” he repeats, his gaze drifting down from my eyes to my lips. The atmosphere shifts, a palpable charge filling the air, connecting us.
“Thanks again for the company.” A tingling sensation intensifies in the pit of my stomach and it’s heading south fast—his nearness overwhelms my senses. Parts of my body are awakening. The naughty, wicked parts. If he kissed me now, I think I’d be powerless to resist.
“It was my pleasure,” he says smoothly, our eyes connecting once more, the tantalizing scent of his cologne tempting me.
Quickly, I look away. It’s far too dangerous to get lost in those brilliant blue eyes.
“Well…I…uh,” I fumble with my words like a nervous teenager on a first date.
“Sweet dreams, Tess,” he says, taking a step back and gently taking my hand, causing a shiver to run down my spine. “Until tomorrow.” He lifts my hand to his lips, planting a soft, warm, and utterly perfect kiss on the back of it.
“Goodnight,” I squeak out, ignoring the body parts that have awakened from their former comatose state.
I turn, tap my room keycard on the lock, and breathe a sigh of relief as the lock clicks open. Glancing back at him over my shoulder, I offer a half-smile. He returns the gesture as I step into my room and slowly close the door.
With a heavy sigh, I lean against the back of the door, pressing my hand against it.
“Damn.”