Wingman [Woman]

He gives me the eye. “I’m not fucking you. I’m still not convinced you’re not harboring a strange mental disorder.”

“Hey,” I say, crossing my arms. “I’ll have you know I’m quite sane. And I had no intention of fucking you. You’re not my type.”

“What is your type?” he asks, wrapping those big hands around his glass and staring at it again.

“Well, not a broody, damaged, incapable-of-picking-up-females kind of man.”

“Did you just insult me?” he grunts.

“I did. Deal with it,” I say, staring around the room. Plenty of sexy women here. “Now, do you want me to get you laid, or what?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Go hard. I can’t imagine how you could pick up someone for me.”

“Is that a challenge?” I say, crossing my arms.

He shrugs again and turns back to his whiskey. Broody asshole. I’ll show him.

I slam my glass down, causing him to jerk and turn my way, then I flick my hair and yell, “Don’t be such an asshole about it. I always told you what would happen if you fell for me! Did you really think your gigantic cock, your money and your flashy car would keep me from stroking my needs elsewhere?” I laugh bitterly. “Seriously, you’re too sweet for your own good. Serves you right for falling in love with a whore.”

There is a group of women watching us—exactly what I wanted. Grinning, I go on.

“It’s not your fault. You did everything right. But I didn’t really want all those roses, necklaces and chocolates. I mean, come on, it’s like you were trying to cheapen me up.”

Did Mr. Broody’s mouth just twitch? It’s not possible. That must mean he knows how to smile.

Gasp.

I pull out my business card, pretending it’s a credit card. “Here, you can take your no-limit credit card back. It bores me.”

Then I flick my hair and turn, strutting off. As I pass, I hear some women murmuring. Winner.

I get back to Autumn and her eyes are wide and confused. “What the hell did you just do over there?”

“Watch and learn, baby.”

I watch with a smile as a tall, leggy blonde approaches Reign. They have a conversation, he buys her a drink and I know he’s won. I turn back to Autumn who is gaping at me, then back at the blonde, then back at me again.

“Did you lose your mind? Did a brain cell drop out on your way over there? Why the hell aren’t you fucking Mr. Rich right now?”

I shrug. “He wasn’t my type.”

“As if!” she cries. “He’s everyone’s type.”

I laugh and turn to watch Reign stand, the blonde right by his side. They turn and head towards the exit of the bar. He looks over his shoulder at me before he goes, and I blow him a kiss.

Score one for me.

~*~*~*~

I didn’t get laid.

Nope, instead I got drunk, came home and passed out, and now I’m nursing an aching head and a seedy stomach.

That’ll teach me for handing the good ones over to Barbie look-a-likes. I slide out of my bed, groaning as my head pounds. Why do people drink? I mean seriously, what’s the catch? It makes us crazy, we do stupid things and then we wake up the next day with a headache, a sore stomach and quite possibly, an STD.

I step into my small, but modern kitchen. I wonder if Autumn had any luck last night? After she dropped me home, she went to a bar down the street with a male friend of hers. She’s been hung up on him for two years now, but he doesn’t even notice. Jerk. He doesn’t understand or even want to understand her.

Autumn had a difficult upbringing, and it takes a lot to get her out of her shell. I met her about three years ago, and in that time she’s moved about four times. She’s like a cat on hot bricks all the time. She’s been back here now for the past seven months and so far, she seems to be holding strong. She tells me she just gets bored, but I’m so sure there’s more to it.

Ohhhh, maybe Autumn has a sexy stalker.

I flick on my coffee machine and set it to the strongest setting. I need a serious shot to wake me up. While I wait for it, I shove through the papers on my countertop, trying to find my phone. Frowning when I come up empty, I look around the room trying to locate it. I find it sitting upside-down on my couch.

It can stay there.

I lift my coffee up when it’s finished, and bring it to my lips. Oh God, heaven. Pure heaven. The warm liquid eases the burn in my throat as it slides down, and I let out a content, overly-loud sigh. Then the high-pitched sound of my phone ringing fills the room. Why did I ever set the tone to a bad rip-off of the Crazy Frog?

I rush to the sofa, lifting it into my hand and flipping it over. Unknown number. It might be Autumn using her male friends phone. She always forgets to charge hers. I answer it and press it to my ear, holding my coffee in my free hand.

“Yeah?”

“Tiani?”

Sexy male voice. Definitely not Autumn.

I’m sure I didn’t get lucky last night. Frantically, I search through my already hazy memories. Oh God, did I get lucky and not know about it? There was that super hairy dude that cracked onto me . . . surely I wouldn’t have been that desperate. Ugh.

“Hello?”

Shit, the phone. “Ah, hello.”

“It’s Reign.”

Reign. Golden eyes Reign?

With a relieved smile, I say, “I’ll admit it, Reign. It frightens me that you have my number and I didn’t give it to you. Should I be worried?” I ask, flopping down onto the couch and taking another sip of my coffee.