Bet On It: An Age Gap Billionaire Office Romance(2)

Couples just had a vibe about them. It was like I could see the bond between their hearts. The more I thought about it, Chase and I didn’t have that bond. I thought we had true love, but clearly, we didn’t. It was time I stopped grieving over losing something I didn’t have.

What better way to forget one man than by spending time with another one?

I didn’t know where that thought came from, but after a glass of wine and a cocktail, it made perfect sense. A titillating thrill shimmered through me at the idea of meeting a stranger in a bar. Betts would probably be worried, because neither she nor I was the type to go clubbing and hook up with men.

Did I want to hook up? No, I told myself. But I wouldn't mind having a man notice me. Or pay attention to me. I could enjoy the company of a man without it ending up as a hookup, right?

I scanned the bar looking for someone with the potential of enjoying an evening of drinking and maybe dancing. There were many men to choose from, but some I dismissed off the bat, like the ones trying to look up Marilyn’s dress. Sure, I'd like to spend my evening with someone handsome and sexy, but it would be nice if they had a little substance as well.

My gaze settled on a man sitting at the end of the bar looking bored and maybe disgruntled. Like his life hadn't turned out the way he thought it would. Welcome to the club, buddy.

He appeared older than me, maybe in his mid-forties, but he was definitely handsome. He was the epitome of distinguished, with short brown hair with a little pepper of gray, lines along his eyes that hinted at wisdom or experience, and a strong, chiseled jaw. He wore a T-shirt that showed muscle definition a man half his age would envy. I decided he was the perfect one for me to make friends with tonight.

I made a beeline toward him, taking a seat in the stool next to him. "Can I buy you a drink? And before you say no, or yes, I just want you to know the only reason I'm over here talking to you is because you look like you're alone, and so am I, and I'm looking for someone to have a good time with tonight."

His head turned, showing pale blue eyes that made me think of a meadow stream. His arched brow suggested he thought I was a lunatic.

Only then did I realize how he could take my words.

I gave my head a quick shake. "I mean a good time as in having drinks and talking and dancing. You look like you could benefit from having your mind taken off whatever it is you're ruminating over. And I'm here to forget a man, whose name will never cross my lips again."

I half expected him to get off the stool and walk away without a word. Instead, he tilted his head to the side. "What makes you think I was going to say no?"

His question took me off guard, mostly because I expected him to respond to my bad attempt to buy him a drink.

I shrugged. "I don't know. I've never actually gone to a bar and talked to a stranger. You might think I'm crazy. I'm not, unless approaching a stranger in a bar is crazy."

His lips twitched upward. "Sometimes, crazy is a good thing. Makes life interesting."

I nodded.

"I could use something interesting in my life right about now." He held up his hand toward the bartender. "Josh."

Yay. It was working.

The bartender headed over to us. "What can I get you?”

My new friend looked at me. "What would you like?"

"I'm buying, remember? What do you want?"

He flashed a grin, revealing a dimple, and holy cow, he really was handsome. He turned to Josh. "I’ll have a bourbon and water."

"And I'll have another one of those cranberry vodka things."

Josh went to fix our drinks.

"You must come here a lot if you know the bartender's name,” I said.

"I come here enough. It’s not really my ambiance, but the owners run a good club. I know one of them and have been bugging him to open one like this but with a sports theme.”

I frowned. "Aren't there a lot of sports bars?"

"Yes, but I mean like this with the holograms. Imagine being able to sit with a hologram of Babe Ruth or Wayne Gretzky."

"Wayne who?"

He closed his eyes and shook his head.

I felt a little dumb not knowing who this Wayne guy was.

Finally, he opened his eyes, his baby blues showing humor. "Wayne Gretzky, probably the single best hockey player ever."

"I'm sorry, I don't know hockey."

He sighed, like he’d heard that more than once. "The point is a place where fans can come and be with their all-time favorite sports giants." Movement caught his eye, and he raised his hand again. "As a matter of fact . . ."

A couple approached him at the bar. "Hey, Max, Amelia." He turned to me. "This is . . .?" He laughed sheepishly. "I'm sorry, I haven't gotten your name."

"Analyn."

"This is Analyn. She might be crazy, but in a good way."

The heat of a blush came to my cheeks, but I extended my hand to the man and woman.

"This is Max Clarke and his wife, Amelia. They own this place."

“Nice to meet you.” I’d never met the owner of anything. In movies, it always seemed like knowing the owner, or the owner knowing you, meant you were a big deal. I wondered who my new friend was.

Max laughed. "We were having dinner when we realized that the kids were over with Amelia's brother and his wife and decided that we would have a night on the town. In fact, we’re talking about maybe getting a suite at a local casino.”