Fuck. Okay, he’s here. He’s here, and he looks like that.
Change of plans.
I cut a hard left through the crowd and grab a stool at the bar.
No way am I going to sit at that table with seven pairs of eyes on me like I’m some sort of freak-show exhibit. Joey is clearly already on a mission to embarrass me tonight, and I haven’t had nearly enough alcohol to tolerate his obnoxiousness yet.
I wave over the bartender. “Give me something. Not beer. Something . . . girly. Or wine. I don’t care. Surprise me.”
The older man smiles, then turns and grabs a glass.
I set my clutch on the wood, fiddling with the contents. Phone, cash, keys, license, lip gloss. A warm body presses against my back.
“Little devil. You’re hard to find.”
A shiver runs through me as his breath moves against my hair. I turn my head, then tilt it back.
Mason moves to stand beside me. I fight the urge to grab his face and molest him.
It’s a struggle.
I wet my lips. “Hey, hi. Did you just get here?”
Obviously, I already know the answer to this question. Way to act like you haven’t been watching for him, Brooke.
He smiles and slowly sinks onto the stool next to me. “I did. Class ran over a bit. I had to shower, find the place. Why are you over here and not with your mates?”
I risk a glance in their direction.
Juls waves. Dylan smiles from her seat.
Oh, my God. Is Joey seriously videoing this with his phone?
“It was a bit crowded.” I swivel on my stool so that Mason’s body completely shields mine. “And I was trying to avoid this guy who has a tendency to stalk. You might know him. He’s Australian too.”
He pulls his shoulders back and looks around the bar. “Yeah? Point this wanker out. I’ll take care of him. Unless he’s a big fella. If that’s the case, I’ll sneak you out the back.”
I laugh as the bartender sets my glass down in front of me.
It’s a tall, skinny beverage. Something blended, with red and white slush swirling together and a pineapple wedge tucked on the rim.
“That’s fancy lookin’.”
I nod at Mason’s observation as my hand closes around the chilled glass. I take a sip. Very tropical.
“So, was the turn-out for class today as ridiculous as last night?”
“You thought it was ridiculous?” His mouth pulls tight. He looks adorably puzzled.
“Women were lined up outside like you were handing out free orgasms.” I give him a cheeky grin. “Clearly, you weren’t. Unless that service was offered to everyone except me.”
His face softens with a smile. “Nah, that’s the Brooke special. It comes with dinners and private lessons. Spending time together. Friendship.”
“Friendship? You want to be my friend?”
“Yeah.”
“And you want to sleep with me?”
“I want everything,” he states negligently. “Friendship is a part of it. Why wouldn’t it be?”
I shrug. My eyes fixate on the bar.
This glorious specimen of a man also wants a friendship out of this. How . . . strange.
“Are you drinking?” I ask, desperate for a subject change.
Feelings. Friendship. More.
He needs alcohol.
I glance back up to catch the quick shake of his head.
“I’m all right.”
“You came to a bar and you’re not going to drink?”
He stares at me, his eyes slowly moving over my face, then down the line of my body. “You look lovely, Brooke. Stunning, really. Has any man told you that today?”
“Um . . .” I inhale a shaky breath. “Today? No. Not today.”
“Shame. I should’ve said something earlier. I was thinking it. In the alley . . . when I came to your work. I couldn’t stop looking at you. I still can’t.”
“In the alley.” I clear my throat. Hair clings to the base of my neck. I’m burning up. “I liked the alley.”