“He’ll give you every fantasy that night, but the next day he says goodbye, hands you a cup of coffee and walks you out to your car.” She paused and then added, “He seriously has like fifteen flavors of coffee to choose from and like eight flavors of creamer and syrups. You can have whatever kind you want. But he also has a stash of disposable coffee cups with lids in his kitchen. So, you get the coffee fixed exactly the way you want it, and then you take it with you.”
Riley had to cover her laugh with a cough. Oh my God, who was this guy? Because she was kind of impressed. Maybe a little horrified, but mostly impressed. Because it sounded like the women knew exactly what they were getting into, agreed to it, and had a hell of a good time. And then got coffee.
“So, don’t even think about dating him,” the brunette said. “Got it.”
“Yeah, don’t get attached,” her friend agreed. “Though, really, I don’t think that’s a risk.”
“No? He sounds amazing.”
Riley wasn’t so sure that amazing was the word she’d use, but he was intriguing.
“He’s hot-fling material,” the first woman said. “Not boyfriend material. Once you get past the orgasms, and look around his apartment and stuff, you’ll realize he’s a confirmed bachelor and would be way too much work to convert.”
Okay, well, trying to convert anyone into anything else was always a bad idea, but Riley was glad this woman was cautioning her friend against even trying.
The door to the Come Again opened just then and Riley realized the blond was facing the door. No doubt waiting to spot the Sex God. Though Riley thought the guy really should walk around with a T-shirt proclaiming him as such. Or something. Did the guy glow? Did he have a halo over his head for all the good he was doing for the area women?
“Oh!” the blond gasped. “There he is.”
Riley almost hurt her neck snapping it around to see who had come through the door.
But the next second, she frowned.
No. That couldn’t be right. The woman must be confused. Because the guy who had just walked into the Come Again was Derek Wright. The bartender. Riley’s brother’s best friend. The guy she thought of as a second brother. Her second, even more annoying brother, to be exact. The guy who had once put dead spiders in her bed. She’d kicked his ass for that. Of course, then he’d been scrawny and a lot shorter than he was now.
“Oh my God, he’s gorgeous,” the other woman said.
Riley looked from her and then in the direction she was staring. But no, she was still looking at Derek.
“I know, right?” the first said. “Look at those shoulders.”
So, Riley did. But they were just shoulders. On Derek. The guy who, when she was eight and he was twelve, put all of her Barbies in compromising positions with Kyle’s army guys all over her bedroom. She remembered being shocked that Derek had known those positions. In fact, looking back now, she was still a little shocked.
She narrowed her eyes and studied the guy that she’d known her entire life. Literally. He’d been there when her parents had brought her home from the hospital as a newborn. He’d lived next door and decided that where there was excitement and cake, he too would be.
But Sex God? She winced. She wasn’t sure she should know the stuff she now knew about him. Or that she wanted to.
Then again, maybe the girls were looking at someone else at the bar. It was Tuesday night, so it wasn’t like it was packed, but there were three other guys up there. Of course, one was her brother, Kyle. And she did not want to know if the girls were talking about him.
But it couldn’t be Kyle. For one, he didn’t live in a house, he lived over at Ty Bennett’s place, a sort-of boarding house type setup. He was building a house, but it was far from finished. For another, he worked horribly long and erratic hours as the town physician, so he’d hardly have time for all of this Good Samaritan screwing. Even before Hannah, his one true love, had walked back into his life. Which she had. So no, it wasn’t Kyle.
But maybe they were talking about—
“So that, my friend, is Derek Wright. The man who is going to change your whole sad, post-break-up perspective,” the blond said.
Well, crap. So much for pretending they were talking about someone else.
