Matt tended to every single person at the bar, keeping me waiting—I never waited—then he finally swaggered down to my end, never once lowering his gaze to my cleavage. Granted, I might not have Double Ds like Zoe, but I was a nice, respectable, solid C, dammit.

Something was very wrong with this picture.

“Ms. Eisenhower.” Matt nodded. “What brings ye out this fine evening?” His deep voice sent a ripple through my stomach as though I were a cello he had just strummed, and a warm smile spread across his rugged face, heating my insides.

At least I hoped the heat was from his smile, and I wasn’t experiencing my first actual hot flash. I shuddered, turning my focus back to more appealing thoughts. Matt’s smile was genuine enough, but it didn’t quite reach his bedroom eyes.

I toyed with a cocktail napkin, looking up at him through my lashes. “Well, doll, I’m celebrating again.”

He leaned on an elbow, his bicep bulging, and arched a blond shaggy brow. “Another divorce?”

“Hardly, darling. One marriage was enough to last me a lifetime. I don’t make mistakes twice.”

“Good motto. I try not to make mistakes, period.” He winked, but something still felt wrong. I just couldn’t put my finger on it. “So, what are ye celebrating?” he asked.

“My birthday.”

“Really, now.” He nodded once. “Well, happy birthday to ya, lass.” He dried a wine glass, his hands looking huge against the delicate crystal, then he hung the glass from the wooden slats above the bar.

“You’re not going to ask how old I am?”

He laughed a hearty boom, his green McGinny’s t-shirt stretched tight across his chest, revealing the flex of his impressive pecs. “I come from a big family. I know better than that.” He wiped off the counter with a rag and then slung the cloth over his shoulder. “So what can I get for ye?”

“A glass of chardonnay, whatever you have on tap, a diet cola, and a martini—shaken, not stirred.” I licked my lips. “And make it dirty, would you, doll?”

“Coming right up.” He moved behind the bar with such ease, looking as though he’d spent the better part of his life there. Rumor had it, he grew up in Dublin.

My gaze dropped, and I couldn’t help staring at his firm gluts encased oh-so-nicely in a pair of tight-fitting jeans. I sighed, having forgotten just how hot Matt was, and the image of expanding clover tattoos and sprouting leaves danced behind my eyes.

Gracious. I tore my gaze away and sat before I fell. I had to get ahold of myself, or I’d come undone right here and now on this barstool, but I couldn’t help it. The man was a living, breathing legend. I glanced at my best friends and shot them a sultry smile.

“That’ll be forty dollars, please.”

My smile slipped, and all I could do was turn around and gape at the man. He was charging me? Last time I was here, he’d bought the girls and me a round of drinks on the house, but now he was charging me on my birthday?

I snapped my jaw closed and forced a smile. “Um, I forgot my purse at my table.”

“That’s okay, I can wait.” His smile never wavered. In fact, I was quite certain his dimples had deepened.

Unbelievable.

This had never happened to me, and quite frankly, I had no idea how to handle it. “Peachy.” I straightened and retied my scarf, so it covered my cleavage. Why waste that on a man who obviously didn’t have any taste at all. “I’ll, um, be back in a sec.”

I headed to our table with dread, and the Irish singer’s gaze met mine as though he’d seen it all go down, his sad wailing voice vibrating beneath my Jimmy Choos. I straightened my shoulders and ignored the man who had to be related to Matt. He looked just like him. I didn’t want sympathy…

I wanted justice.

“Where are the drinks? Do you need help carrying them?” Zoe glanced beyond me toward the bar.

“Oh, I’ve got it covered. I just forgot my purse, so I⁠—”

“You have to pay for them?” Morti’s dark brows shot up clear to her hairline. “That’s gotta be a first.”

“Hardly.” I shrugged off her comment. But I had to admit, I’d at least expected a complimentary birthday drink for me.

“Get out.” Harm gawked at me. “See what happens when you turn forty? Looks like I win. Time to pay up, babes.”

“Not so fast. You haven’t won anything yet, thank you very much.” I snatched up my purse and marched back to the bar, ignoring the curious glances the regulars sent my way, petrified that Harmony was right. But I refused to believe that would happen.

I wouldn’t allow it to happen.

I slid a fifty-dollar bill onto the bar. “Keep the tip, doll.” I winked.

“Thanks. Enjoy yer birthday.” Matt headed to the other end of the counter without so much as a single backward glance.

“Oh, I will, you can count on that.” I picked up the tray of drinks and strolled back to our table with as much dignity as I could muster.

So, this was how crashing and burning felt. For as long as I could remember, even back in high school, I had never been shot down. With my divorce, I’d been the one to ask for it, and I got it.

This could not be happening to me.

“The day that Tiffany Eisenhower can’t score is a sad day indeed. Now all hope is lost.” Harm chugged her beer. “We’d better enjoy tonight cuz it’s downhill from here.”

“How would you know? You’re not even forty yet.” I drained my martini. “And I’ll have you know the last time I looked in the mirror, everything was still firmly uphill.”

“Good genes will do that for you.” Morti drank her diet cola. “Eventually everything heads south…or so I’m told.”

“Girls, just because Tiff’s forty doesn’t mean her life is over.” Zoe smiled dreamily. “Look what happened to me when I turned forty.”

Zoe’s husband of twenty years had run off, leaving her with four children to raise. But she was resilient. She’d picked herself up, made a big success of her party-planning business when she won the bid for Mayor Edward’s Annual Labor Day Bash, and she’d gotten engaged to the town’s hot new Hunky Dr. Chaz Anderson.

“Yeah, well, you got lucky.” Harm snorted. “But it looks like Tiff won’t.”

“Girls, I paid for my own drinks, that’s all. It’s not like that’s never happened before.” I bit the end of the olive off, my gaze wandering back to the enigma behind the bar as though a magnet had reeled me in. “The bet’s still on, and the night is still young.”

Twenty-four hours…I swallowed hard.

What the hell had I gotten myself into?

Chapter Two

Midnight.

I must be getting old if I was this tired already. I’d tried all evening to engage Matt in conversation. He’d remained friendly and polite, yet never once flirted with me. Maybe I had read the signs he’d been giving me wrong. Something had changed since the last time I’d seen him, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what.

I couldn’t go home until I won the bet, even though the girls had long since abandoned me. My pride wouldn’t let me. So, I focused back on Homer—the youngest of Harmony’s seven older brothers—and smiled indulgently.

He droned on and on about his prized Mustang he was souping up in his garage. He’d been hitting on me all night, but that was nothing new. He’d had a crush on me for years and was a nice enough guy—almost as big and handsome as Matt—but he did nothing for me.