Game Plan by Karla Doyle Read Free Book Online Page B

backward glance, disappearing through the front doors. That left her alone, confused, and more than a little worked up.
    “You shut him down good,” a male voice said from behind her. Its owner took over Mason’s stool and gave her a thorough look-over. “His loss is my opportunity.”
    Gross. Not a lot of men successfully pulled off lines like that. Mason could—this guy, not so much. Around her age, nicely dressed and not altogether unattractive, he did zero for her. Clearly, he had no clue. He kept smiling, or rather leering, his eyes working a circuit between her mouth and her boobs. Mason’s comment about her t-shirt echoed in her head. Too bad she hadn’t brought a sweater.
    “What’s your name, baby?”
    “Ida.” She gave one of her coldest faces. “Ida rather have a root canal than tell you my name. Baby. ” Juvenile, yes, but it had the desired effect.
    “Bitch.” He slid off the seat and slunk away.
    The bartender laughed as he wiped the bar in front of her. “Nice. That jerk’s here every weekend, harassing the pretty ladies. Nobody ever gets rid of him that easily.”
    “I’d say thanks, but that makes me sound like a bigger bitch. Which I’m really not.” Why did she feel the need to explain herself to a total stranger? Because she was a wound-up, messed-up wreck, that’s why. “Him, I meant to get rid of. The first guy I scared off was unintentional.”
    “You mean your boyfriend? Ah, he’s just jealous. I’m sure you’ll work it out.”
    Andie stopped toying with her drink and stared at the dark-haired server. He thought Mason was her boyfriend. Huh. “What makes you think he’s jealous?” The bartender averted his eyes, toweling an already-dry glass for all he was worth. Definitely spot free by now. “Come on, tell me. Please.”
    He hung the glass in an overhead rack. “Giving advice is murder on my tip jar, but how can I say no to such a pretty face?” He placed his palms on the bar in front of her. “Whatever you said when you looked at your phone pissed him off. Possessive-like. Not a generally annoyed look, like a guy gets after waiting an hour for a woman to choose an outfit, or listening to her complain about not getting enough cuddling.”
    “God, women are the worst.” She loaded on the sarcasm, and it didn’t go unnoticed.
    “Women are the best thing on earth,” he said with a big smile. “But you drive us nuts, especially if we’re really into you, which your man clearly is.”
    Andie freed him with a thank you. Despite her feelings at the end of last night, she hoped the bartender had it right. She swallowed the last mouthful of wine and hit mental rewind. Then smacked herself upside the head.
    The bartender removed her empty glass. “Guess you figured it out.”
    “Too late, but yes.”
    “I’d say you’ve got time to save this one.” He nodded toward the front of the restaurant.
    She swiveled, scanned the room and came up blank.
    “Outside,” he said from behind her.
    Through the oversize front windows, she located Mason. He sat in a corner patio chair, long legs stretched and hooked at the ankles, nicely muscled arms crossed over his chest. Eyes fixed on the door. No beer on his table. Totally unapproachable looking. She fished a five from her purse and placed it on the bar. A decent tip, considering she’d already given twenty percent when she paid. The bartender gave her a wink and a nod. Here’s hoping his advice was on the money.
    The closer she got to the door, the tighter her stomach clenched. She stepped out into the summer night and connected with Mason’s eyes immediately. His expression stayed cool, borderline angry. She made a straight line toward him, cell tucked in her palm, ready to go. The breeze chose this less-than-convenient moment to blow an errant lock of hair in her face. Stupid, good-for-nothing hair clip. She puffed at the strand—repeatedly—rather than use her hand, since she wanted to hide the phone from Mason’s