Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
“My apologies. Did I interrupt?” Virginia looks at Isabella before her gaze returns to me.
I’m about to speak, but Isabella beats me to it, “Yes.”
“No,” I correct. “No, you didn’t.” I hurry from behind the bar and come around to the front. Taking Virginia’s glove covered hand, I nod toward the back. “Want to talk in private?”
I start to walk, but her feet stay firmly planted to the spot. “Do we need to talk in private, Hardy?”
“What? No, I was only offering since you just got here.” I’m babbling like a guilty fucking fool. Shit. I need to fix this. “It’s good to see you.” I lean forward to kiss her on the cheek but she backs out of reach. Shit. Shit. Shit.
She sits down on the stool next to Isabella and I don’t like the looks of this at all. Until I remember that we are friends. Only friends, according to her. And since she’s all about the asshole still, I don’t owe her anything. Nothing but a drink, and a fuck on Saturday, but that’s beside the current point I’m trying to make. I start to make a Paloma and dump ice in the tall glass, but she says, “I’ll have what she’s having.”
Shit. She’s mad.
Fortunately they use the same glass. I start pouring vodka that I personally like and give her a little extra. It’s not like she’s driving home or anything. While I’m cocktail concocting, Isabella turns to Virginia, who’s taking her coat and gloves off, and says, “Hello. I’m Isabella Treaton of Connecticut.”
Maiden name. She used her maiden name. I think the trouble I mentioned walking in before has just become a quicksand trap. I’m not falling for it.
“We’ve met before. When I was out with Hardy at a restaurant in the city. I’m Virginia Ryan of Manhattan.”
How she says that with a straight face is beyond me but I’m going to give her extra special sexual love on Saturday for doing it. Isabella’s gaze head to toes her, and then says, “Manhattan. Huh? I would have surely thought one of the outer boroughs.”
Oh shit.
Just when Virginia is about to roar, I say, “Did you know that hippos are too dense to really be buoyant to swim so they are considered semi-aquatic animals who jog or run up to fifteen miles an hour under water?”
Both women are staring at me, and my mind goes blank under the harsh glares. Virginia finally says, “Lowry asked me if I would be at the holiday party.”
I grab my glass and down the rest of the whiskey. When I slam it down on the bar mat, I shake my head. I thought I was at a loss for words before, but now I have plenty I’d like to say, but seeing as this is my establishment, it would be unprofessional to use them here and now. “And what did you say?”
“I said with bells on.”
My neck is tight, so I bend it to the side to stretch it out before grabbing the whiskey and pouring another drink. “Maybe you should wear red.”
“I have the perfect dress.”
“I just bet the fuck you do.”
Isabella says, “Hardy.” When I leave the fiery green eyes that are making my blood boil, I’m met with blues of no variation, no depth, and don’t hold my interest. “That was rude.”
“I’m sorry I don’t live up to your standards. You’re welcome to see yourself out.”
She looks taken aback and hurt. “I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s not like you to be rude like this.”
“What do you know about me? Nothing. You’re trying to rekindle a flame that I’m trying to blow out for good. Don’t you get it, Isabella? We were done long before we broke up. So I don—”
She bursts into tears before my very eyes. Whoa!
I’ve never seen her cry. Not even when I broke up with her. And she’s sobbing. Virginia wraps her arm around her, and says, “Come with me to the bathroom. We’ll get you some tissues.”
Now I burst out, but not into tears. “What the fuck is going on? No. You can’t do that.”
“What is wrong with you?” Virginia’s voice is hard, not familiar to me at all. The way she’s looking at me makes me reel back. Me? She’s scolding me?
“Is this rhetorical?” I ask because I’m truly unsure if she wants me to answer or not.
“You’re being an ass, Hardy.”
“You would know since that’s what you like.”
“Screw you.” She walks away with Isabella.
And if I’m not totally mistaken, when Isabella looks back, I see that wicked evil grin of hers hidden beneath her fake sobs.
“Fuck me,” I say, turning away.
Clive says, “Man that was tough to watch. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone actually land and then get burned, but you managed to do just that. I thought you were in the clear, and then bam!”