Sasha slid into the booth across from me. “Guys, this is my friend Daryl. Daryl, this is Andy and Tevin.”
Andy plunked himself down beside Sasha, leaving Tevin to sit next to me.
“Hello.” I gave each man one of my I’m-being-friendly-only-because-I-have-to half-smiles and scooted over, putting some space between me and Tevin.
“Tevin Page.” Tevin eyed my glass. “What’re you drinking?”
I didn’t offer Tevin my last name.
“I’m good.” Sasha said, weighing her two bottles with her hands.
“Diet cola,” I said, catching a surprised look from both guys. “I gave alcohol up for Lent.”
“And she’s not even the Catholic girl in the group,” Sasha teased. “I am.”
“Yeah? I heard plenty about Catholic girls.” Andy flung an arm over Sasha’s shoulder and waved for the waitress with his other hand. “Are the rumors true?”
Sasha’s cheeks flushed a pretty pink that matched her clingy knit top perfectly. “All lies. Well, most of them, anyway.”
The waitress came bouncing up, her bright smile highlighted with a brilliant shade of pink lipstick. She sure hadn’t beamed that brightly a little while ago, when she’d taken our order. Andy rattled off the drink order while Sasha fluttered her eyelashes at him.
“Now that we’ve covered religion,” Tevin said, drawing my attention away from my flirting best friend and her latest potential conquest, “what other taboo topic should we talk about? Politics?”
I shrugged. “Sure. Why not? Democrat. You?”
“Republican,” Tevin answered.
“Really?” I gave him another up and down assessment. He bore none of the trappings of a typical conservative. Quite the opposite, with his shaggy hair, pierced ears, and the tattoos peeking out from under his well-fitting short sleeves, he was looking far from conservative.
“I’m an entrepreneur,” he explained, as if he owed me any explanation at all.
“Ah, got it.” Entrepreneur? Judging from this guy’s looks, I would guess that was a fancy word for unemployed and unemployable. “So, what kind of business are you into?” While I was absolutely certain Tevin was not potential client material, at least small talk was good. Safe.
“Lawn care.”
Lawn care. Yes, I could still spot a man worth a second look in a crowded room, practically with my eyes closed.
Tevin wasn’t one of them.
“Lawn care. That sounds great. Do you have your own company?” I asked, humoring him.
“Yes. I started it a few years ago. Last year, I grossed a fair amount in revenue.”
Revenue?
I’d never heard a lawn guy use that kind of language.
Maybe I’d been a little hasty in judging him? Probably not, but I perked up, shifting into work mode anyway. I was desperate. Desperate times, and all that.
Ring check? Clear.
Tan marks on the ring finger? Nope.
So far, so good.
I glanced at his feet. Shoes said a lot about a man.
Interesting.
“How’s business?” I asked.
“We’re doing pretty well. And I dabble a little in real estate in my free time.”
Now the real estate dabbling sounded promising.
And the Dolce & Gabbana shoes spoke volumes.
Hoping my first impressions had been wrong for once, I asked, “Do you have a card on you, by any chance?” I wasn’t permitted to ask potential clients for financials to prove their net worth, but oftentimes it didn’t take much to get a picture of a man’s financial standing.
“Why? Are you looking for someone to cut your lawn?” Tevin the lawn cutting real estate dabbler who spoke like a U of M graduate asked.
“No, not exactly.”
His smile turned wicked. I really liked that smile. Maybe a little too much. “Ah, then you just want my phone number.”
I nodded. “Maybe, I do.”
That wicked smile turned wry. “Hmmm. In general, I prefer old-fashioned girls. You know, the type who would rather let me pursue them. But in this case--“
“Actually, it’s not for me.” I dug into my purse, looking for my business card case. It always sank to the bottom, and it took my cell phone with it every time.
“Not for you?” He smacked a hand to his chest. “You wound me.”
The guy had a flair for the dramatic, but in a very cute and playful way. Another reason to like him.
I couldn’t help laughing. “Sorry.”
“You sure don’t let a guy down easy.” His grin belied the wounded-guy act.
“It’s a risk of the profession, unfortunately.” I glanced up, catching his gaze for a split second. He had some seriously gorgeous eyes. And those thick lashes...swoon. “I work for a company called Premier Consultants--”