Chapter 2: Gia

Cue the mental groaning. I am so not into this. All I want is to head back to the relative safety of the table. Impatiently, I give him a polite smile, hoping this won't take too long.

Even though it's been two months since Tyler and I broke up, hooking up is the last thing on my mind. When I'm finally ready to jump back into the dating pool again, it won't be with a drunk college kid who has zero idea that women have a little something called a clit. Let alone where one might find it.

I dealt with that in college. I'm not interested in reliving that part of the experience again.

At this stage of the game, I'm only interested in men who have, at the very least, a rudimentary understanding as to how the female orgasm is achieved. And are willing to take the time to prove it. Let's just say that Tyler had a working knowledge of female anatomy but wasn't always willing to put forth the necessary time and effort to achieve those goals.

I met Tyler about three and a half years ago through a co-worker at North Hill. We were introduced at a summer barbecue and hit it off. At the time, he ticked all the standard criteria on my mental list.

Educated-check.

Around the same age-check.

Same core values-check

Not only held down a job but was career focused-double check.

Although here's where I've learned the difference between dedicated to one's profession (me) and obsessed (Tyler). Over the last year, it became a point of contention between us, and was one of the reasons we parted ways.

Not wanting to waste this guy's time or, more importantly-mine, because what he's hoping might happen between us, is so not going to happen, I get right to the point. "Sorry, I'm not interested." That being said, I try to maneuver around him. Unfortunately, he shifts his body and blocks my escape.

Again.

Even though he continues to smile, my brows lower. I've just told this guy that I'm not interested in whatever he's offering. Shouldn't that be enough?

He holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender as if to show me that he's harmless.

Hey-know a better way to show me that you're not dangerous?

Accept when I tell you that I'm not interested. That would go a long way toward proving your point.

Is that concept difficult to grasp?

Apparently so.

This guy doesn't appear to be budging anytime soon, which is annoying.

"Hey, I just want the chance to get to know you."

A snort slips out. "Riiiiiight, I'm sure that's exactly what you had in mind." With a sigh, I try one more time to maneuver around him. I don't want to get nasty, but I will if I have to.

Just like before, he blocks my escape route and gives me a knowing grin. My guess is that since the first approach didn't work, he's changing tactics.

"Come on, sweetheart, you can level with me."

His gaze rakes over my body. Even though I'm not wearing anything revealing-we're talking high neck sweater and jeans-he makes me feel naked.

"You're obviously here looking to get laid. You're a little too..." he pauses.

Unconsciously, my brows wing up. I know exactly what word is about to fly out of his mouth.

"Mature," he says with a broad, patronizing smile. "You're a little too mature to be hanging out in a bar like this if you're not interested in a hookup." He shrugs as if he's doing me a favor by laying it all out on the table. "All I'm doing is offering up my services. Plus, I'm into cougars. Or MILF's. Or whatever it is that you are."

Cougar?

MILF?

I'm not even thirty! I'm twenty-nine. And some change. I'm nowhere near cougar age. Isn't that like forty or something?

Instead of going off on him, I draw in a deep, calming breath. "Exactly how old do you think I am?"

He tilts his head and scrutinizes my face. "Twenty-eight?"

Close enough.

Rather matter-of-factly, I ask, "Didn't your parents teach you that it's impolite to point out a lady's age?"

He blinks.

"Well, I'm going to do you a favor. One you don't deserve-and tell you right now that it's incredibly rude to point out a woman's age. And you certainly don't refer to her as a cougar or MILF." I shake my head. "In the future, I wouldn't open with you trying to do any female a favor by sleeping with her. That's just asinine. If you actually find a woman who is willing to climb into bed with you-especially after you've opened your mouth-she ought to be cherished and revered. Not to mention thanked." There's a pause before I tack on, "Profusely."

He shifts his stance. "So, just to be clear, you're not interested in hooking up with me tonight?"

My eyes widen as I shake my head. "Not even for a hot minute. I'm here to watch the band, not get laid. Now that we've cleared that up, you can kindly step aside."

When he doesn't scamper out of my way, annoyance ignites inside me. "Look, I'm not interested. I just want to get back to my friend."

He glances in Sophie's direction before returning his attention to me.

A smarmy smile settles on his lips. If he thinks that it ratchets up his cuteness factor, he's sadly mistaken. It doesn't. The only thing ratcheting up are his chances of getting smacked. I have the feeling that whatever words are on the verge of tumbling out of his mouth are going to push me over the edge.

"Hey, if it makes you more comfortable, I'm totally cool with her joining us." His gaze rakes over me again. "The more the merrier, I always say."

Ewww.

Guys like this are the absolute worst.

My eyes narrow. "Are you being serious right now?"

He looks hopeful. And oddly confident. The combination is disturbing on so many levels. Especially after everything I've said to him. "Well, that depends-are you into it?"

Um, no.

I point to all the unhappiness that has settled on my face. "Does it look like I'm remotely into anything you're talking about?"

He contemplates me silently.

Exactly how much has this dude had to drink tonight that he can't pick up on clear social cuing? Even my second graders understand that a frowny face aimed in their direction means that someone is unhappy with them.

Note to self-never step foot in another college bar again. No matter how much Noah begs and pleads. He'll have to step up the venues he plays at if he wants my ass in the audience.

Because this is not worth it.

As I open my mouth to blast him into next week, a muscular arm snakes its way around my body and I find myself hauled up against a hard male one. Knocked off guard, I blink and stare into the most gorgeous gunmetal gray eyes I've ever seen. They're crinkled around the edges with humor. He gives me a wink as if we're co-conspirators rather than perfect strangers.

Even though his comment is directed at me, he turns his attention to the idiot blocking my escape. "Hey babe, I've been looking all over for you. Where have you been?"