age with a similar build moseyed up to the pool table and started talking to the women. He had the same salt-and-pepper hair, and if it wasn't for the way he bowed during their introductions, I would've thought it was my father.
Elaine and Jumpsuit laughed at something the man said, and then Jumpsuit went to take her turn with the cue stick, leaving Elaine and the man to talk by themselves. And boy did they talk.
I dumped more sugar into the bitter coffee and sipped while watching Elaine's and the man's mouths move at Road Runner speed. Elaine liked using her hands when she talked, and there were moments when it looked like she was signing for the hearing impaired. I hadn't a clue what two strangers could get on so well about…unless they were flirting. That thought filled me with dread on Derek's behalf. But honestly, from my vantage point, they seemed to be only talking and laughing. Neither of them was in each other's personal space. Elaine's body faced her friends straight ahead, and she turned only her head toward the man, so they weren't leaning into one another. Maybe there was hope.
As the evening wore on, the man joined their game, I suffered through another cup of coffee, and Elaine and her friends started singing a country song. This one was about a cheating man and a woman only too eager to get her revenge.
Another man walked over to their group, which had gotten rather loud with their chatter and laughter. This guy was older, shorter, and rounder than the first. He approached Cowgirl, who was all smiles and coy looks. They chummied up quickly, and he didn't give Elaine and Jumpsuit much attention. This seemed to bother Jumpsuit, who slid her way between them to whisper into Cowgirl's ear.
Round Man frowned and looked annoyed. He wrapped his meaty fingers around Jumpsuit's upper arm. I assumed he was going to pull her away, but before he got the chance, Jumpsuit turned her head, glanced at his probably unwelcome hand on her bicep, and glared at him. Her lips moved, but unfortunately I couldn't hear the manhandling beatdown I hoped she gave him. Some guys didn't understand that touching a woman without their permission wasn't endearing or charming. It was simply too much.
Round Man let go of Jumpsuit and took a step back. I smiled and wanted to cheer at her standing up for herself. Before I got a chance to see how they reacted next, a tall, lanky guy in jeans and a plaid shirt sat at the corner of the bar in front of me. He completely ruined my view.
Seriously?
I softly scoffed, wondered why he couldn't choose one of the other four empty bar stools, and looked up to the man's face. I expected to see a scruffy dude with a down-and-out expression to his weather-beaten face. I sounded like a country song. But instead he was tanned, clean shaven, and had a twinkle in his hazel eyes. Too bad Caleigh wasn't here. His red-and-white plaid shirt didn't make him "bad boy" material, but he was definitely adorable.
He ordered a Guinness on tap, then turned and looked behind him to the rest of the room.
Dude, not even a glance my way?
I wasn't conceited, but come on. Hadn't I been told all day how sexy my dress was?
He turned back around when the bartender placed his beer down. He set money on the smooth wood bar top, took a sip, and then looked behind him again. I couldn't tell who he was looking at, but when he faced his beer again, he made a tsk sound. Something wasn't kosher.
"You okay?" I asked.
Finally he looked my way, but his gaze immediately shifted to his beer. It didn't travel up and down my body the way most did. My ego decided he was either severely depressed or gay.
A slight smile tugged one corner of his mouth. "Do I not look okay?"
"You look upset."
He didn't answer but jutted his chin out at my coffee. "Not exactly bar beverage."
"Drinking and driving do not mix."
He nodded, then brought his glass to his mouth. "They sure don't. I'll be calling a cab."
"Good for you." I pushed my stool back
Learning to Kill: Stories