Page 27 of Scoring Lessons

The bartender nodded. “Right. Hayes.”

I pointed at Olivia. “My friend here will have a tequila on the rocks, and I’ll have whatever you have on tap.” I handed her my card. “Thanks.” I shot her a lazy smile before she turned.

She was a beautiful woman, sure, but the way she flirted and the way she purposely touched me and swayed her hips weren’t grasping my attention like I thought they would. Which was odd in itself, but I paid no mind to it.

I leaned against the dark wooden bar without a word as I faced Olivia.

She stared at the bartender for a few seconds, who was on the other side of the bar serving our drinks, then at me in bewilderment.

Damn. I liked her eyes on me. I couldn’t deny it even if I tried. The way my chest tightened was fucking stupid, and yet I was trying to figure out a way to keep her gaze locked on me.

“You make it look so easy,” she said in disbelief.

“Because it is.”

“How am I supposed to pull that off?” Her elbow met the wood of the bar, and she rested her chin on her hand, her brows furrowed deep in thought. “I’m not good at first-time interactions.”

My laugh was gruff. It made my chest vibrate. “That’s the thing, Olivia…”

Hopeful, blue-gray eyes met mine expectantly. She looked so innocent and hungry to learn. I wondered then why she was hellbent on doing this.

What happened in New York?

What happened with Jack?

Do you think this will be the answer to all of your problems?

Let me save you the trouble. I’ve been doing this my whole life, and I’m hollow inside. This isn’t the way to get your spark back.

I rubbed the palm of my hand across my mouth. Those were things I couldn’t say out loud. It wasn’t my place. When I leaned closer, her scent wrapped around me. It was like my brain was being rewired. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move.

She smelled sweet, like jasmine. With a hint of something nutty, like almonds. It was dizzying enough that it made my body gravitate toward hers without even meaning to. I allowed myself to take another deep breath. It was so…her.

Dangerous. Daring. And every bit unpredictable.

“You shouldn’t have to be the one going to them,” I said, barely above a whisper. “They should be the ones coming to you. They should be the ones falling at your feet.”

Her eyes gleamed with heat and awareness, like the thought hadn’t crossed her mind. And, fuck, did that piss me off.

Who made her believe she wasn’t good enough to be wanted?

My eyes pinned hers in a stare-off as every breath I took turned shallow. The air between us turned hot and suffocating. But then she blinked, and whatever alternate dimension we were traveling through shattered.

“This does not help me one bit,” she said.

The bartender came back with our drinks, then she handed me an extra napkin with a wink. I turned it around and found her number scribbled on it.

It should have excited me. I should have asked her what time she was getting off work. After all, the goal was to get Olivia to flirt with a guy so she could potentially hook up with him.

But the thought of her leaving with a random person annoyed me so much that I grabbed the beer and took two big gulps in hopes of pushing down whatever feeling was threatening to boil over. I had no business getting irritated, but I couldn’t avoid it. My mind was fucking reeling.

I didn’t want her riding off into the sunset with another man tonight. I much less wanted to have meaningless sex with someone whose name I couldn’t even remember.

Spending time with the woman who infuriated me more times than not? That I actually wanted to do. Around her, I wasn’t numb. She exasperated me as much as she excited me. That was more than I’d felt in a long time, and I wasn’t ready to let it go.

I still kept the napkin, because I wasn’t a raging asshole and I didn’t want the girl to feel bad.

Olivia tracked my movements as I shoved the napkin in the pocket of my jeans. She smirked. “You gonna call her?”