Free Heartless by Winter Renshaw Page B

buy me a drink first?” she asks. “No offense, but I’m not exactly in the habit of accepting drinks from crazy strangers.”
    My jaw slacks, and I’m more amused than offended. “I’d hardly call us strangers at this point. This is what, five times in three days now?”
    “You’re keeping track.” Her blue eyes brighten in the dim space we share, and she fights a smile. “And you’re counting Monday, with the journal.”
    “So you admit it was you.”
    “I never denied it,” her stare holds mine, refusing to let go, “if you want to get technical.”
    “Excuse me.” Gil stands in the doorway, looking at Aidy. “May I get you something to drink?”
    Her tongue gently grazes her lower lip, and she tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her left ear. “Yes, please. Tito’s and cranberry.”
    “You’ve got it.” Gil shuffles away, and Aidy smirks, hiding her smile behind a sheet of golden hair.
    “I’m sorry,” I say. “I just find all of this hard to believe. I chase you away from my apartment two days ago, and now I’m running into you everywhere I go. There are almost two million people in this borough. This just doesn’t happen.”
    Her hand splays across her chest, and for some insane reason I steal a glimpse at her ring finger, which is free from any sort of obnoxious metal and diamond bling.
    “You don’t think I’m freaking out too?” she asks.
    “I don’t know.” I peer down my nose at her. “You seem awfully calm about all of this.”
    Her mouth pulls up in one corner. “I’m pretty calm about most things, but you wouldn’t know that because we’re still strangers, you see. If and when I freak out, I don’t do it in front of my stalkers. I feel like they’d enjoy it too much.”
    “Jesus. How many stalkers have you had?”
    “Just one. Summer after high school graduation.” She shrugs.
    Gil swings by, dropping a cardboard coaster in front of her and placing a cocktail glass on top of it.
    “Thank you,” she says to him with the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen. When her eyes snap back to mine, her smile fades. “What about you? Do you ever get stalkers or do you prefer to do the stalking?”
    Smirking, I drag my hand across my mouth. Her cherry lips part just enough to welcome in a small sip of her drink, and she doesn’t so much as flinch when it goes down, which says a lot because Gilberto’s is notorious for strong drinks.
    Gripping the glass with the tips of her fingers, she returns it to the coaster and tilts her head.
    “I feel like I’ve been here almost ten minutes now and we’ve accomplished absolutely nothing,” she says, checking the dainty gold watch on her left wrist. “We can either sit here and continue to pretend we’re not gawking at each other from across the table, or we can–”
    “I am not gawking .” My brows furrow and I sit back in my seat. “I don’t gawk.”
    “Fine. Ogling.”
    “I don’t ogle either.”
    “Checking out,” she says. “Do you check people out?”
    “Who says I’m checking you out? Maybe I’m trying to figure you out,” I say.
    “Figure me out?” She releases a belly laugh and covers her mouth with her hand. “That’s cute. Now you’re trying to pick me up.”
    “What? No.” I frown. This is not going well. Somewhere along the line this train derailed, and I’m not sure it’ll ever get back on track.
    She takes another sip, glancing through the doorway as the bar begins to fill with regulars. “All right. Whatever you say. You must look at everyone that way.”
    “What way?”
    Turning back to face me, she lifts her brows and points at me. “All intense and brooding. Like you’re thinking really, really hard. And every so often your stare lingers here,” she points to the hint of cleavage rising from her top, “or here” she drags her fingertips across her lips, “or here.” Aidy traces her bare shoulder, pulling the strap up. “You’re bold, Ace. And you’re lucky I’m slightly