Mr. Wrong Number(86)
Allison finally ordered a drink and stopped torturing Hallie, but as soon as she walked away, her words played on a continuous loop in Hallie’s mind. Hot mess shitshow. Hot mess shitshow.
God, had they Freaky Fridayed?
Hallie spent the next half hour freaking out in her head while she continued slinging drinks on autopilot. Hot mess shitshow. It wasn’t until “Single Ladies” came on that she embraced her inner Beyoncé and remembered that everything was going to be okay.
Because she wasn’t a hot mess shitshow at all. Rather, it was just her “winter.”
After she and Kyle split up, Hallie had decided to treat it as “the winter of her twenties.” A few dormant, cold months that would lead to a bountiful spring. She’d moved out of Kyle’s place and got a cheap apartment—with a roommate. She’d taken two part-time jobs, in addition to her career, to pay down her student loans in half the time.
The way she saw it, she was going to take advantage of her man-free time.
They were dark days, her winter season, but soon they would all pay off.
“YOU.”
Hallie looked up and the guy—Jack—was charging straight toward the bar. He looked intense—serious face, tie hanging untied around his neck—and his eyes were fixed on her. He reminded her of the Darkling in that show on Netflix.
Smoking hot and all powerful.
“Me?” She looked behind her.
“Yes.” He stopped when he reached the bar and said, “I need you.”
“I beg your pardon?” Hallie tilted her head and said, “And what happened to that sweetheart of a girlfriend of yours? Van, was it?”
“We need a bartender in the back.” Jack ignored her remark, looking at Julio and saying, “Do you think you can spare her for a bit?”
Julio glanced at Hallie, trying to gauge her reaction before saying, “Yes, but I believe the bride scheduled—”
“She’s the one who sent me over. I’m her brother.”
“Listen, I don’t strip or give lap dances,” Hallie said. “So if ‘the back’ is code for something creepy, count me out.”
That made the guy smirk down at her. “Somehow I would’ve guessed that about you.”
“Oh.” Hallie pushed back the stray hairs that’d fallen out of her ponytail. “Well, good.”
“Follow me?”
“Why not?” Hallie came around the bar and followed Jack as he walked through the throngs of wedding revelers—most of whom smiled at him like he was their favorite cousin even though he appeared oblivious—and when they got to the kitchen door, he pushed it open and held it for her.
“Thanks.” She walked through the door, only to see that the kitchen was absolutely deserted. “Um . . . ?”
She turned around, and Jack had dropped his jacket on top of a box of bananas and he was rolling up his shirtsleeves. He raised an eyebrow and waited for her to speak.
“I thought you said you needed a bartender.”
“I do.” He casually hopped up onto the stainless steel prep counter and sat so that his long legs were dangling in front of him. “You got me dumped, so now it’s your job to get me drunk.”
Seriously, dude?
“Yeah, um, you aren’t the king,” Hallie said, disappointed in his power douche move, “and I’m not interested in being your personal serving wench. But thank you.”
“Dear God, I don’t want you to serve me.” He pointed to the spot beside him on the counter. “I just thought since we both had drinks thrown in our faces by Vanessa Robbins tonight, it might be nice to drown our troubles and share a bottle.”
Hallie tilted her head and looked at the bottle of Crown Royal behind him.
Why did that sound so damn appealing?
* * *
? ? ?
JACK COULD SEE it in her face the minute she decided. It was like her entire posture relaxed.
And then she smiled.
Not that it mattered, but she was cute. A short little redhead with a big smartass mouth. He actually had remembered her from the jewelry store, not because of how she looked but because she’d been funny as hell as she’d shown him a slew of engagement rings.
She came over and hopped up on the counter, crisscrossing her legs and reaching for the bottle. “First of all, please tell me you dumped her and not the other way around.”
“Obviously,” he said.
“Thank God.” She rolled in her lips and said, “Second of all, I had nothing to do with the implosion of your relationship.”
“Well, if you hadn’t said anything . . .”
“Then you’d be engaged to a jealous psycho.” She narrowed her green eyes and said, “I think you actually owe me a ginormous thank-you.”
“Is that right?”
“For sure,” she said, and then she raised the bottle to her mouth and took a big drink. After she finished, she wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “Are you intentionally forgoing mixers? Because I’m okay with that, but since I’m only five feet tall, I’m gonna get there a lot quicker without Coke.”
He actually felt like smiling when he said, “Fine by me.”
“And are you paying for the Uber that I will surely need when we’re finished?”