Rory: Hope City, Book 7 by Maryann Jordan (golden son ebook TXT) 📗

letting him assist her onto the barstool without putting his hands on her uninvited. Maybe it was the way he openly admitted that he needed to leave to have a meal with his parents.

Continuing to cast her gaze around the bar, she thought maybe it was the way his deep blue eyes had held hers as they chatted, not continually dropping to her breasts or scanning the bar to see who else he might find. Whatever it was, it had enticed her to want to see him again. Caution moved through her, but she didn’t need to remind herself to take it slow. What was surprising was a hint of excitement at seeing him again that mixed with the caution.

“Are you even listening to me?” Harper asked.

Jerking her gaze over to her best friend, she blushed. “I’m sorry. Yes, I have been, but… um… oh, hell, I confess my mind wandered.”

“Rough week at work? I’m blabbing on about my work and haven’t even asked about your week yet.”

The two settled onto barstools, waving to Torin and Maeve. After ordering their drinks, she turned back to Harper. “My week was pretty usual. I’m just trying to keep up with my growing business.”

“How’s the new designer working out for you?”

“Really good. It’s a bit tight to have hired him already, but I didn’t want to lose him to another firm. If I get the Partridge account, I’ll have plenty of money to finally take the business where I want it to go.”

Even as she spoke, her gaze quickly scanned the room once again. She was aware other men in the bar followed her with their eyes. It would be false modesty to admit she had no idea that she was looked at. She’d been blessed with her mother’s thick blonde hair, heart-shaped face, and curves. They were the only things of value her mother gave her. Her father’s donation to her genetics included his blue eyes. She could probably throw in her business acumen, but she’d earned her degree and subsequent clients, not willing to have anything thrown her way by him. And her grandmother? Lessons on deportment had been drilled into her head.

Sighing, she ignored the blatant stares from a few of the men. It was her opinion that while many men appreciated her physical attributes, there weren’t many who wanted to know the true Sandy. And that was fine with her. She found very few men worth getting to know. But Rory? While she’d only shared a short conversation with him, she couldn’t help but want to have the chance to talk to him again.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re looking for someone?” Harper tried to hide the smile on her face, but before Sandy had a chance to speak, Harper placed her hand on Sandy’s arm. “We’ve known each other for a long time, Sandy, and you don’t have to say a word. Believe me, if you’re interested in seeing somebody special, I’d be the first to jump for joy for you.”

Shrugging, she took a sip of her Lemon Drop, glad to have a few seconds to think of a response. Sighing, she admitted, “Sometimes, I think that I’m always searching. Searching for the person that makes my heart race beyond the initial flirting.”

“Someone who makes you feel safe,” Harper added, her voice soft and her gaze full of concern.

She sucked in a deep breath and nodded. “Lord knows, I developed flirting to an advanced stage at an early age. My grandmother always told me to keep men guessing. Sometimes I wish I could get her voice out of my head.” She took another sip, her mind muddled. “Maybe I look too hard for something special. You know, basic freshman psychology… looking for someone to give me the attention I never got from my mother.”

“Oh, honey, don’t worry over that. But I do think that you’re smart to try to be safe.”

Her fingers held the stem of her glass and she swirled the last vestiges of her pale yellow drink. “Trust is so hard.”

“That’s why we hang together,” Harper claimed, giving Sandy’s arm a little squeeze.

Smiling again, she nodded. “And that’s why you’re my best friend. You let me be me,” she said, lifting her martini glass and tapping it against Harper’s wine glass.

The door to the pub opened, and unable to keep her curiosity hidden, she swung her head around and peered at the men who entered. She recognized some of them, most working for the police or fire departments. There were larger bars, trendier bars, those with live bands or filled with the up-and-coming businessmen and women who wanted to use drinks after work as a way to make beneficial connections. For her business, she probably should frequent one of them, working the room and drumming up potential new clients. But the Celtic Cock had been the only place she and Harper came to regularly. Somehow, knowing that Torin and Maeve kept an eye on the place and it was filled with first responders, she felt safe.

The door opened again, and this time she felt her breath rush from her lungs as Rory came into view. And just like the week before, as soon as her gaze landed on him, she was unable to keep the smile from her face. Tall. Dark, almost-black hair. Deep blue eyes. Muscular but not bulky. Fit and gorgeous, but not in a way that made her think he spent an abundance of time in the gym… or in front of the mirror. And that smile. Blowing out her breath, she hoped he turned his smile toward her.

Instead, he walked toward the back, stopping to chat with several of the other firemen. “A lady never gawks at a man.” She wanted him to notice her yet twisted around on her barstool to face Harper, not wanting him to think she was staring. A presence was felt at her side, and she turned around, seeing Bill lean in to grab his beer