Taking What's His(29)

Shaking his head, he opened the file and set to work at giving Gordon a shot at his happily ever after. A happily ever after he’d never have for himself.

By the time he was finished, it was ten after five, and he was free to go home. Still, he sat there at his desk, staring ahead. It was Monday night. Would Lydia be going out with friends? Hitting up a bar? Hitting on some guy? He’d introduced her to how much fun sex could be, so who was to say she wouldn’t want more now?

From some other guy, who might not treat her right?

He rose and grabbed his jacket. He needed a stiff drink or ten. He also needed to find some nameless girl, with an unmemorable face, bring her home, and fuck her until he forgot all about Lydia, and her beautiful laugh. Until he forgot how much he wanted her.

And how much he couldn’t have her.

…

Lydia leaned closer to her friend, struggling to hear her over the loud music. After her craptastic day, she’d agreed to go out dancing and drinking in a local bar. But now that she was here, she wished she hadn’t. Who the heck went to bars on a Monday night? She’d prefer to be at home in her Doctor Who robe, reading a good book, or binge watching some of her favorite episodes with David Tennant in them.

But instead, she was in a bar, in a too short skirt, in a too tight top, wearing a pair of heels that would more likely than not have her flat on her butt by the end of the night.

On top of that, she had no idea what to do about the phone call she’d gotten earlier. She’d been offered a job in Delaware. One that was amazing, and perfect, and a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. But it was in Delaware.

She didn’t want to move to Delaware.

“Hey,” Gianna pointed over her shoulder, “that hot guy over there wants you to dance with him.”

Lydia looked. Sure enough, a brown haired man watched her. As soon as they made eye contact, he smiled and held up his drink. “Want one?” he mouthed.

He was attractive enough, if you were into that totally-hot-in-a-movie-star way type of guy. Which every woman in America was. But for some reason…she didn’t want to go over there. Didn’t want a drink from him. “He’s cute,” she said noncommittally.

“Cute?” Gianna rolled her eyes. “He’s beyond cute. He’s perfect. Go over there.”

“But—”

“We’re not here to ignore cute boys. We’re supposed to be having fun. Forgetting all about responsibilities and job offers. So stop thinking.” She pushed Lydia forward. “And go.”

Lydia stumbled forward, glaring over her shoulder at her friend as she went. When she reached the guy’s side, she smiled at him. He was even cuter up close, but his eyes weren’t right. And his hair was too light. And he didn’t have glasses on.

“Whatcha drinking, baby?” the guy asked.

She flinched. That’s what Holt had called her that night she’d gone home with him. At the time, it had seemed hot. But from this guy, it felt lazy. “Cranberry vodka, please.”

He turned to the bartender and ordered the drinks. As he did so, she scanned the crowd for Gianna. She was off chatting to some guy Lydia didn’t recognize. Just as she started to sweep her gaze back toward her drink partner…she saw him. Holt sat four seats down, next to some blonde chick who easily could have been Barbie.

And from what Lydia could see, Barbie was way too ready to go home with him. Every time he said something, she tossed her head back and laughed hysterically.

No one was that funny. Not even Holt.

He watched the other woman, his lids lowered and his expression bored. He looked as if he’d rather be anywhere but here. Or maybe that was what she was feeling, or wishful thinking. Because seeing him flirt with some bimbo was definitely high on her list of things she didn’t want to do. Or see.

“Here you go,” the guy next to her said.

She forced herself to look away from Holt, whose attention had dipped even lower on Barbie’s body, and smiled at the guy. Suddenly, it seemed highly important that she give this guy a fair shot at being cool. “Thanks. What’s your name?”

“Paul,” he said, his focus securely locked on her boobs. “Yours?”

“Lydia. What do you do, Paul?”

He pressed his lips together. “I’m in between jobs right now, but I’m in marketing.”

“Oh, cool.” She took a sip of her drink, and without permission, her eyes peeked at Holt. He’d spotted her, and was glaring at her over Barbie’s head. She looked away quickly, her heart racing. “Uh…”

She couldn’t think of a darn thing to say to this guy.

He didn’t seem to mind. After tossing back his whiskey, he swiped a hand over his mouth and smiled. “Want to dance?”