“That he does.” Morticia’s gaze followed Harmony’s, and I knew full well they were mentally devouring the massive shoulders, broad chest, and impressive bulge even I couldn’t take my eyes off. “He’s gonna make some woman very happy if she gets lucky enough to see that fourth leaf.”
“I was born lucky,” I heard myself say.
Three pairs of eyes whipped back around to lock on me. I laughed, feigning confidence, when I felt anything but. What was wrong with me? I was never this insecure.
“Do I detect a bet?” Harm asked.
Leave it to Harmony to jump on what I’d said and hold me to it. “Depends on the wager,” I answered, studying my manicure as though I didn’t have a care in the world.
“I got twenty bucks that says you can’t put that rumor to bed.” Harm’s grin stretched so wide she looked like the star in a toothpaste commercial, filling me with an urge to grab a yellow sharpie and color her teeth.
“Surely you jest.” I scoffed. “I simply meant I could get him to ask me out, not that I would sleep with him.”
“I didn’t say you had to sleep with him, but if you do, lucky you. I just want proof of the infamous clover. But, hey, if you can’t handle the bet, then—”
“I can handle it just fine…literally.” I matched her grin with a tilt of my chin and a raise of my brow. “But for what you’re asking me to do, you’d better make it fifty.”
“Deal. You’ve got twenty-four hours to prove if the tattoo exists or not.” Harm slapped her hand on the table. “Anyone else in?”
“What the hell, I’ll match her fifty.” Morti tapped her fist twice on the table. “Curiosity killed the cat, and all.” She shrugged.
“Well, since you did bet on me several times not very long ago, I’m in too.” Zoe winced. “Sorry, Tiff, what’s fair is fair.”
“It’s really no big deal, ladies. I just have to get Matt to ask me out and then prove the tattoo exists or doesn’t exist. Piece of cake.” Or at least it would have been a piece of cake before I’d lost my confidence.
Damn birthdays.
I stood and smoothed my hands down the front of my favorite periwinkle blue, strapless, silk dress in the same shade as my eyes. Fingering the diamond at my neck, I stared at Matt. Curly hair, chiseled features, and a booming laugh that made me smile every time I heard it. Renewed confidence filled me. Some simple flirting, a little conversation, and I’d have my answer, not to mention a lovely little boost to my ego.
How hard could it be?
So not going there…at least not yet.
“Ladies, I’ll be right back with another round.” I flipped my long blonde waves over my shoulder and focused on Matt, putting an extra swing in my step as I made my way over to the bar, ignoring the giggles behind me. I could do this. I had to, for a much-needed confidence boost.
I sidled up to the bar, untied the silk scarf around my neck, and let it drape over my shoulders. Resting my forearms on the slick, granite countertop, I leaned in just enough for the kill.
Only the kill never came.
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.
