Baby Be Mine(Spinsters & Casanovas Series Book 1)(13)

“Don’t show me that face,” the girl yelled at the bartender. “You want to see my ID? Fine, I’ll show you my ID.”

The scene playing out before him was starting to become humorous, and Hunter couldn’t help but continue to tune in as the drama unfolded before him. It wasn’t every day he got to see a beautiful young girl, looking not a minute older than nineteen, claiming to be thirty just so she could get a sip of alcohol into that gorgeous body of hers.

Hunter chuckled and shook his head. He could only recall one other time when his life was this amusing. It happened about a week ago, when a girl gave him a bouquet of roses the day before Valentine’s Day and then ran off after yanking his towel, exposing his naked state.

He could still remember standing there, butt naked and all, gazing at her as she scrambled away in fright, oblivious to the sound of whatshername, the girl he’d just had sex with, screaming loudly, making threatening remarks about wanting to kill that girl if she were to see her again.

He could still remember the exact image of her black hair fluttering about in the breeze, tossing, turning, and gliding through the hands of the wind. He so damn wanted to be the wind that day, to feel those strands through his fingers, to see if they were really soft to the touch. He was mesmerized by that beautiful girl, at the nerve she imparted upon him when she dared tear off his towel and at the fading image of her escape. At that moment he was tempted to follow her.

Dear Lord, he would have definitely followed her if he weren’t butt naked. He would have run after her and made love to her right there against the next available tree. But goddamn if it weren’t for his neighbor Macy, always hanging about on her front porch, looking to catch a glimpse of him with his next woman, then he would have been off after her already.

Hearing ruffling, his eyes danced back to the scene in front of him. He watched as the girl rummaged through her bag but could not produce anything.

“Miss, I can’t serve you alcohol if you don’t have ID with you,” the bartender rephrased.

“I have it in here somewhere,” she grumbled while she continued searching for her card, her shoulders slumping in disappointment. Then she turned to the other girl he assumed to be her friend, who was dressed all in black, like a goth, complete with coke bottle glasses.

“Go get Elise. I think I left my wallet in her bag,” she instructed.

The friend looked reluctant to leave for a minute, but then she was off to the other side of the club, disappearing into the crowd. Now the girl was all alone, but she still continued to stare at the bartender like she was on death row.

At this point, Hunter couldn’t help himself. Being a Casanova, he just needed to ruffle her feathers a bit and rescue her from her moment of distress. This girl definitely needed some lifting up, and he made sure he was the first one to offer her that service.

Hunter couldn’t help but marvel at her long hair that shone brightly under the many colorful disco lights. She was of petite frame, perching on the stool, her legs dangling like a little kid’s. Definitely my cup of tea, Hunter thought.

Not wanting to prolong the wait any longer, Hunter inched himself closer to her, his stool now very near. And while she was so consumed with her conversation with the bartender, he took action.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he whispered into her ear.

As if heaven had opened up, she turned her head and God help him, but his mouth almost hung open for a full minute. It was that exact same girl who had made that confession to him just last week, the same girl he couldn’t get out of his head.

No way could he have mistaken her. Those same pupils shone a molten black. Those same cheeks, just like that day, were scarlet in color, but this time it wasn’t from the embarrassment over his lack of dress, but instead, they were puffed out in anger due to the argument with the bartender.