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.
Not that I wanted Matt to do anything for me, either, except maybe physically. Physical affairs, with no strings attached, were all I allowed myself. I liked my independent lifestyle too much to risk answering to another man ever again.
Tonight was about proving I still had it. And getting lucky enough to find a four-leaf clover, that’s all. Not that I planned to do anything with the laddy’s shamrock—as Harm would say—other than take a peek for proof purposes only.
But I wasn’t at all positive whom I was trying to convince.
“Well, I’d better hit the hay. Gotta open up the garage at the crack of dawn, and then cover Harm’s shop on her lunch hour. Ma needs her, as usual. Cut the cord already, right?” Homer grunted and jerked his head to the side to flip the red strands of hair out of his green eyes.
“She will when she’s ready, doll,” I answered, remembering exactly why he didn’t do anything for me.
Homer was handsome enough, but still rough around the edges, whereas my tastes tended to run toward the more refined. An image of Matt McGinnis popped into my mind’s eye. While he might be big and rugged, he had an air of worldliness and charm about him.
“It’s closing time, Ms. Eisenhower,” Matt’s deep voice rumbled from right behind me, and I jumped. “See ya, Homer,” he added.
“Later, Matt.” Homer sent Matt a two-fingered salute. “Catch you on the flipside, Tiff.” He winked as he swaggered out of the bar.
“I thought you didn’t close until two?” I focused my attention on Matt, who was studying me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.
“That’s on weekends, lass.” He glanced around the interior. “It’s Wednesday, and the bar’s empty.” His gaze landed on my silk dress with a raised eyebrow as he added, “A woman like ye must have someplace to be?” before walking to the front door and flipping the sign to closed, then turning the lock.
