It was 7:15, and I was going to kill Mary.

The thing was, Mary was a punctual person. She wasn’t the kind of friend who would just leave you hanging or show up late for no reason. So while I was annoyed, I was also kind of worried. It didn’t help that she wasn’t answering my texts, either.

I’d picked a spot at the bar to wait for her, figuring we could snag a table or booth once she arrived, but now I just looked like the idiot who was getting stood up. The bartender was new, too, so I didn’t even have the comfort of Sally or Blaze to chat with while I was waiting for Mary.

Sally was my favorite bartender, personally. Blaze tended to get a little flirty, and I knew it was just a part of his job, but men flirting tended to make me uncomfortable, even when I knew they didn’t actually mean anything by it. It was just that flirting could possibly lead to sex which would then lead to disappointment for everyone involved, and I didn’t exactly need the reminder that I wasn’t up to snuff in the bedroom.

Where was Mary?

I glanced around the pub again. There were some regulars in the corner that I recognized, people that I knew by face if not by name. A trio of younger women was sitting at one of the tables, giggling at something on one of their phones. At the far end of the bar was a gorgeous man—tall, blond hair, green eyes and a chiseled face—but I was avoiding looking at him because re: flirting.

No sign of Mary.

I pulled out my phone and resolved to call her instead of just texting. The phone rang a few times, and I was just starting to resign myself to hanging up and getting out of there, when she answered.

“Jess!”

Mary sounded oddly out of breath, and not in the way she did just after sex where her voice got all high-pitched and bubbly. And yes, I had unfortunately heard Mary in her post-coital daze a few times over the years. It stung to know that I’d probably never sounded anything as blissed-out as that.

But right now, Mary sounded more out of breath like she’d been running, or even crying.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah, everything’s fine, just—I’m sorry. I know I’m late, and I’m not actually going to be able to make it.”

“What’s wrong?” I could tell by her tone that something was off.

Mary sighed.

“I can’t talk about it right now. Josh and I are just having some…disagreements, that’s all.”

“Is this about his mother?”

Josh was one of the sweetest guys I had ever met, which puzzled me because his mother was literally part demon. And I don’t mean that lightly. She had never liked Mary, for some reason, and had alternated between being passive-aggressive towards her and outright bitchy. She’d been furious when Josh had asked Mary to marry him, and she’d been making the wedding as difficult as possible ever since.

Mary’s sniffle on the other end of the phone told me all that I needed to know. Thank God, Josh at least mostly understood how his mother was. She loved him and had raised him, so I think he felt his loyalties divided, but he always stuck up for Mary when his mom went too far.

“Go,” I told her. “Take care of this. Remember that your love is pure and strong and will overcome anything, including her.”

“Thanks.” Mary definitely sounded near tears now.

“I’ll get back to you about this seating thing, okay? Don’t stress.”

“Okay. I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry!”

I suddenly, inexplicably, got the feeling that someone was standing right behind me.

“I’ll see you another time, okay? You take care of this.”

“Thanks Jess, you’re the best. I love you.”

“I love you too. Now off you go.”

I hung up the phone and turned around only to find that my instinct was correct—there was someone standing behind me.

It was the handsome man from the end of the bar.

Up close, I could see his five-o’clock shadow and the flecks of gold in his green eyes.

My jaw might have gone slack, and I just hoped that I didn’t look like the total besotted idiot that I felt like. This guy looked like he should be on the cover of a magazine.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Asher.”

“Jessica,” I said automatically, holding my hand out and letting him shake it.

He had large, capable hands, and I don’t think I was imagining that he held on to mine for a little longer than he had to.

“I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation,” Asher went on, finally letting go of my hand. “It seems like you’re in the same predicament that I am.”

“What’s that?” I asked, curious. “Being a maid of honor?”

Asher laughed heartily, like he wasn’t expecting me to joke with him.

“Being stood up.”

“I mean, it’s not so bad. It was just my friend,” I explained. “We were supposed to talk about some wedding stuff, but now her mother-in-law is causing problems again. Well, mother-in-law-to-be.”

“Ah, I think I misunderstood,” Asher admitted. “I’ve been stood up by my date, and I thought…”

“Okay, that sucks a lot more than mine,” I said. “Sit down. If you want, we can talk about it.”

“That’s really sweet of you,” Asher said, smiling.

He had a really nice smile, genuine but also a little roguish. He took the seat next to me.

“We were set up by a friend, but we’d texted and sent pictures beforehand so I thought that…but, anyway. Gotta keep trying, I suppose.”

“Here, here,” I toasted, holding up my drink and clinking it with his.

“I’m glad to hear that you weren’t stood up by a date,” Asher said. “Clearly, the guy wouldn’t have seen a picture of you.”

I felt myself blushing, heat rising to my face.

“Well, the girl you were going to meet is clearly crazy, because she had a picture of you and she still didn’t show.”

The smile Asher gave me was definitely more roguish this time.

“So, Jessica, how did you get roped into being maid of honor?”

I explained about how long I’d known Mary and how I was the most organized out of all of our friends. That led to me talking about my career, which segued into talking about my boss. Asher responded with talk about his boss from when he was doing his inpatient work as a medical student, and soon, we were swapping stories about college.

“I cannot believe you wore a chicken head,” I said, laughing so hard I almost fell off the barstool.

“Hey, I was three sheets to the wind, okay? And it was our school mascot.”

“Your school mascot was a chicken?”

I could tell that I was starting to edge from tipsy into drunk, and pushed my drink away from me. A pleasant buzz was in my fingertips and my toes, and I wanted to chase that to increase the languid, heavy feeling starting up in my limbs. But if I did that, I’d be in no state to do anything with this gorgeous man next to me.

And if I was actually considering doing anything with him, then I must have been tipsier than I thought.

“My friend’s a psychologist,” I said. “Amanita. She’d probably have a whole list of reasons why the girl wanted you to wear a goddamn chicken mascot head thing.”

I frowned. Starting to lose my power of speech—that was never a good sign.

Asher looked at his own drink, halfway full, and then looked at his watch.

“It’s past ten,” he noted.

We’d been here for nearly three hours, talking, and I hadn’t even realized? I waved to the bartender.

“Could we get some water, please?”

When the water arrived, I gulped it down, wanting to dilute the alcohol in my system. I could make myself a cup of coffee when I got home.

Actually…I looked over at Asher, who was staring at me. Or, rather, my mouth. He’d been doing that all night, generally when he thought I wasn’t looking.

I considered this. A gorgeous man thought I was beautiful, and I’d talked to him for three hours without noticing how much time was passing. That didn’t happen often with men. I think it was that Asher hadn’t tried to outright flirt with me. He was charming and hilarious—as his many college stories had proven—and he was a doctor, so probably good with his hands.

I might not get—okay, most likely wouldn’t get—an orgasm out of this, but I could still have a good time. And, again, three years since my last relationship and a good nine months or so since I’d last even attempted to have sex. It hadn’t gone well, let’s just say.

“I think you’ve got the right idea,” Asher said, drinking his own glass of water. “I don’t want to end the night plastered.”

“I just had a wild bachelorette weekend getaway,” I admitted. “I think I’ve reached my quota of being drunk for at least the next six months.”

“And when you’re drunk, you can’t focus on things,” Asher pointed out, his voice going low and intimate. “I like to remember everything and be fully in the moment.”

“Are you fully in the moment now?” I asked. “With me?”

For the first time, Asher gave me a once-over. Heat flared up inside of me and I had to squeeze my thighs together as his gaze slowly moved over my body. It was like he was peeling off my layers with his gaze and imagining me in his bed.

“Very much so,” he assured me.

I swallowed to try to get some moisture back into my mouth.

“I never do this, but would—would you like to come back to my place?” I asked almost awkwardly.

The smile Asher gave me then was nothing short of predatory, and I felt my underwear start to get wet. He looked like he was going to pin me to the wall, and I wanted that. I’d always liked a man who knew what he was doing and wasn’t afraid to take control.

Suddenly, it was like I had handed the reins over and Asher was in control, leaving me at his mercy. I liked the idea probably more than I should have.

Asher leaned in, ghosting his lips against my cheek.

“I’d like that very much.”

“Thank God your date stood you up,” I blurted out. Damn alcohol.

Asher chuckled, the sound dark and enough to send a shiver of anticipation down my spine.

“Thank God your friend stood you up.”

Oh, yes. I owed Mary a thank you card at the very least for this. Maybe I’d even send a thank-you card to Josh’s mom.

Asher put his card down to pay and then stood up, holding out his hand for me to take.

“I can’t let you pay for my tab,” I protested, starting to pull my wallet out of my purse.

“Jessica, you’re about to give me a fantastic evening,” Asher said. “You’ve given me one already. Let me say thank you.”

“You’re wanting me to let you say thank you for taking you back to my apartment,” I pointed out. “That sounds a lot like a certain profession.”

Asher laughed, sounding startled.

“I’m just trying to be a gentleman, but if it makes you uncomfortable, you are welcome to pay for yourself.”

“No, I’m good—just couldn’t let the opportunity for a joke pass me up.”

I winked at him, wondering internally where this saucy girl had come from and why she wasn’t present when I was out on actual dates. I’d never been comfortable with flirting or teasing a guy, and yet here I was, actually succeeding at it!

Asher paid for both of us and I took his hand, letting him help me up from my seat at the bar. I expected him to let go then, but he just used his grip on my hand to pull me in close, his other hand coming to rest on my hip. I shivered, pinned by his intense gaze.

“Can I admit something?”

I nodded, certain that my voice would crack if I tried to speak.

Asher let go of my hand so that he could tuck some of my hair behind my ear, letting his fingertips trail down the line of my jaw.

“I’ve wanted to touch you like this since the moment I saw you.”

“What about your date?” I asked.

Asher made a face.

“Not to be rude about her or anything, but you are much more my type.”

“The type who actually shows up?” I teased.

“The type that’ll let me do wicked things to her,” Asher replied.

Shockingly, I did not melt into a puddle on the floor, but it was a close call.

“You can’t have been able to tell that just by looking at me.”

“Actually, it was that you were absolutely stunning,” Asher admitted. “The wicked bit was just a guess on my part. And, apparently, an accurate one.”

He winked at me, and I had to reach up and grab his wrist before I did something very stupid like make out with him in the middle of the bar that I frequented. Sally would never let me live it down when she heard about it.

“Let’s get out of here,” I whispered.

Asher’s eyes darkened and he nodded, sliding a hand to the small of my back to guide me out of the bar.