“Nope.”
“They probably changed their plans.”
“Yeah, apparently they did.”
“Can you find out where they went?”
“Guess I could text them.” He frowned at his phone.
Okay, maybe he was a little drunk. The size of him, it probably took a lot of booze. He was taller than her, and at five foot nine she was often as tall as a lot of men, even taller in heels. Not that she wore heels very often. Mostly in her other part-time job.
He was also big. Very big. Very muscled. She found this very attractive. His lack of ego was also attractive. Nothing turned her off faster than a guy who thought he was all that and a pack of gum. And then his face…gorgeous. His dark chestnut hair had glints of red in it, though she couldn’t see much of it under that ball cap. The cap should’ve made her shake her head, but it was kind of endearing. Just the right amount of beard stubble shadowed his jaw. His deep-set eyes were a startling green and when he smiled she was charmed by white teeth that were perfect—other than his eye teeth, which were just a tiny bit prominent. No braces for him as a kid, probably, but it gave him a bigger, engaging smile.
He started tapping the screen of his phone. “This is probably gonna end up on the Internet,” he mumbled. “Drunk texting. Autocorrect could kick my ass tonight.”
She tried not to smile. “I’ll be back. I’m just going to clear that table and then I’m on a break for fifteen minutes.”
His head came up. “Oh.”
“I can sit down with you for a drink,” she offered.
She wasn’t usually this forward with guys, but he seemed to have no clue that he was freakin’ hot, and he wasn’t putting any moves on her. He wasn’t on the rebound—as he’d said to her, he was the dumper. She was curious about why he’d broken up with poor Melissa. Although he claimed Melissa wasn’t brokenhearted, she’d been pissed, which probably meant she was hurt.
“Sure,” he said slowly. He stopped tapping his phone and set it down. “I can text them in a while.”
She made eye contact and smiled, then pushed away from the bar to head over to the empty table. She quickly cleared the glasses and wiped the table down, got rid of her tray, and filled a glass with Diet Coke. She carried it around the bar and slid onto the stool beside…
“Geez,” she said. “I don’t even know your name.”
“Amber.”
“No,” she said patiently. “That’s me.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I know that. That’s what I meant. I know your name. I’m Duncan.” He held out a hand and she extended her own to shake. His large hand swallowed up hers. His grip was warm and strong and for a moment they looked at each other, holding hands. Heat built between them and a little shiver worked over her skin.
“Nice to meet you, Duncan.”
“Yeah.” He released her hand.
“So tell me why you dumped Melissa.”
“Who?”
She grinned. “I feel sorry for this girl.”
“You shouldn’t.” His mouth tightened. “Not that she was an awful person. I mean, I don’t like to say anything bad about her.”
Her heart tilted a little at his chivalry. “Okay, never mind. Don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“Let’s just forget about Melissa. She’s history.”
“Okay. Tell me about you. Are you from Chicago?”
“Live here now. Grew up in Wisconsin.”
“Really?”
“Yep. On a dairy farm.”
“You milk cows?”
“Don’t mock me.”
“I’m not!” She paused. “Farm boy.”
He groaned. “Please. I get ribbed enough about it.”
“It’s nice,” she said. “So really, you know how to milk cows?”
“Sure, but we had milking machines that mostly did it. It’s a lot of cows.”
She almost wanted to laugh. It was adorable. “I’ve barely even seen a cow.”
His eyebrows snapped together. “Seriously?”
“I grew up in Los Angeles. Moved to Chicago to go to college.” Among other reasons. She held out her hands. “City girl.”
“Damn.”
She laughed. “What does that mean?”
“Eh. Nothing. Are you still in college?”
“Yeah. Last year. Almost done.”
“I can’t tell how old you are.”
She grinned. “I guess that’s good.”
“It’s weird.”
Now she laughed. “What? Why?”
“I dunno, I just feel like I should be able to judge your age, but when I look at you, you could be…eighteen, or you could be…never mind. I’m just gonna get myself in trouble.”
“I’m twenty-four. I started college a little late.” Ugh.
He nodded. “Okay. That’s good. Twenty-four.”
Their eyes met again. “You?” she murmured.
“Twenty-seven.”
“I’m guessing you do something physical for a living.”
His chin lowered. “Oh yeah? Why?”
She waved a hand up and down. “The muscles.”
“Ah.”
“Pretty sure you’re not milking cows here in Chicago.”