Maybe she was just Team Delaney through and through. Good for her.
“Is that him?” she asked, pointing toward the bar.
“Yep.” He’d tamed the usual mess of his golden-red hair into an old fashioned combed down style. Which he rocked. And the width of his shoulders stretched his plain black T-shirt just a little. God, his poor face, all gray, black, and blue. At least he hadn’t been too badly hurt. Something about the tattoo on his neck worked for me. I wanted to kiss it and lick it and do all sorts of things. Things requiring an X rating.
“I can’t tell you how great he is,” I said, not bothering to face her. My view was far too good. “Vaughan is … he’s awesome. And it’s not just the hot body and his whole tattooed rocker bad-ass vibe. Because let me tell you, most of the time the man is a total *cat. The sweetest guy I’ve ever met. Loyal and supportive, open-minded, totally trustworthy. We can talk for hours about nothing, just hanging out together. He has his cranky moments, but hey … don’t we all? Not to mention he’s sexy as hell. I’m too much of a lady to discuss what he’s got in his pants, or how he can make me feel without even bringing that into play. But when the guy can light you up with just a kiss, not even any tongue, you know you’re on to a good thing. Know what I mean, B?”
Betsy stared at me, mouth open. I’m reasonably certain a bug flew in. Oops.
“Anyway,” I said. “I better get back to work. Oh, did I mention how much I’m enjoying waitressing again? It’s different when your friends are involved and you’re actually invested in the business emotionally. When you truly believe in the quality of the product, you know? Everyone’s working together to achieve the same thing. None of the be-the-shark bullshit, constantly trying to outdo everyone else and get the best sales figures. Plus, you should see the leftovers I get to take home. Nell truly is the most talented chef.”
And still, she stared.
“Anyhoo. Didn’t you say you had to go?”
“You’re ridiculous. A complete joke,” she spat, turning on her heel and stalking out. Goodness. And her heels were a good four inches. That was one impressive skill.
“Buh-bye!”
“You okay?” a deep familiar voice asked me from behind.
“Yep. Want to go out with me tonight after work, Vaughan?”
First, a gentle tug on my ponytail, then his lips brushed my ear. Christ, I liked that. Goose bumps ran riot down my spine. It was all I could do not to give a happy-girl moan.
“You asking me out on a date, Lydia?”
“Yes,” I said. “I am.”
“Babe, I’d love to.” His hand rose to the back of my neck, stroking, drawing me closer. Hot damn, did he have the moves. The man turned my mind to mush.
“Something you need to know,” he said. “Before tonight.”
“What’s that?”
“I put out on the first date,” he told me with a perfectly straight face. “That okay with you?”
“Oh, I’m counting on it.” My face might have been aflame, but then so was the rest of my body. “I mean … it would have been so awkward if you expected me to respect you for your mind or something. Yikes, how embarrassing. Between you and me, I’m really only interested in getting into your pants.”
The corner of his mouth twitched.
“I’m sure you’re a nice guy and all but, priorities, you know?”
“I know.” The man’s smile would have made a nun think twice. I never stood a chance. The way it lit his eyes seemed more magic than biology. “All right then.”
“We’re all set?”
“We are indeed.”
No chance of containing my grin. “Until tonight, Mr. Hewson.”
I was not standing idly by eyeing Vaughan’s ass as he strolled back to the bar when the stranger approached. Deep inside my brain all sorts of things were happening. Work-related things. I swear. Sort of.
“Excuse me?” A neatly dressed young Asian man with a hipster mustache flashed me a friendly smile. “Miss Green?”
All happy thoughts fled as I snapped to attention.
“Lydia Green?”
“Who’s asking?” I replied with my best fake smile.
He pulled a business card out of his shirt pocket, presenting it to me with a flourish. “Brett Chen. I’m a freelance reporter. I was wondering if we could talk about your recent split with Christopher Delaney and the wedding you walked out on last weekend.”
“No, thank you.” I held his card back out to him.
He ignored it. “As you’d be aware, the Delaneys and their real estate agency are well known throughout the area and have strong connections to some key political figures. But I believe that a sensational story such as yours could have a much wider reach. A national, if not an international one.”
“Wow. The opportunity to have strangers all over the world sticking their nose into my business.” I waved the business card beneath his nose, growing impatient. “No.”
“The money involved could be big, Lydia.”