“Now that guy over there…” Rachael tips the neck of her beer bottle toward the bar, “I bet he knows what a G-spot is.”

I turn around and scan the bar for the man in question. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, I continue trying to peel the label from my bottle without tearing it. “Oh, yeah? What makes you say that?”

“Look at his fingers and the way he’s holding his beer. He’s almost caressing the bottle with those long fingers. Plus, you know what long fingers mean.”

I must have had one beer too many, because my friend Rachael is making perfect sense. We try to come to Asheville once a month for a girls’ night out. We’re several months behind, but tonight, we have something to celebrate. We have our first interested client. “You’re probably right. But I still don’t know if I believe anyone who’s given up sex.”

Rachael slaps the table and whisper-screams, “Look!” Then just as quickly she yanks on my arm and says. “No, don’t look!”

I almost get whiplash from whipping my head back and forth. “Rachael, don’t yell at someone to look and then take it back. You know I’m going to look.” I spin around in my seat and connect eyes with long finger guy. I can’t tell you how long his fingers are because I can’t get past his handsome face. Or at least what’s not covered by a ball cap. He’s like sex-on-a-stick gorgeous. I give him a feeble smile and feel my face heat. I turn back around fiddling nervously with my now-empty beer bottle.

“That’s why I said don’t look,” Rachael hisses as her gaze moves past my shoulder.

“Then you should have led with don’t look.” I take another gulp of my beer to cool me down and frown at the bottle when nothing comes out. I close one eye and peer down the mouth of the bottle, looking for the lost beer.

Rachael clears her throat to get my attention and says, “He’s staring right at you.”

My head pops up. I know what I’m about to do will only encourage his interest, but I can’t stop myself from turning back around. Even with the dusky lighting and that annoying ball cap, I can tell he’s checking me out every bit as much as I’m going gaga over him. I wish I could see the color of his hair. He smiles. I focus in on his perfect set of sexy lips and give him a polite grin. I should turn around and put an end to the bar seduction game, but instead, I let my eyes meander down his body as he lounges back against the bar. I very much like what I see. My gaze moves back up his form-fitting black jeans and his dark green t-shirt hugging what I bet is an impressively-toned chest. Even from across the room I shiver from the intense look he’s giving me. He nods his head, and I smile back. My nipples harden under my white tank top, and I hope the slight padding in my bra keeps that information private. His eyes shift downward and his jaw clenches before his gaze moves back to mine. I’m pretty sure he now knows I’m interested.

He tips his head toward the bathrooms, the international sign for ‘meet me in the back.’ I’m frozen in place. I’ve never in my life had a bar hookup. I feel Rachael push something into my hand. I look down and cringe when I find a foil packet. “Are you crazy?” My hand snaps closed on the condom before anyone else can see.

My best friend sits smugly in front of me. “Go have a little fun. What’s it going to hurt? You’re interested, he’s interested, and you’ll never see him again. But, you know,” her brows waggle and she nods toward my closed fist. “Wrap it up.”

I would laugh, but that would only encourage her. She doesn’t need any help with that. “I am not going to have sex with a stranger in a bar bathroom. That’s just gross and probably extremely uncomfortable. And would you like to tell me why you have a condom?”

Rachael rolls her eyes like the explanation is simple. With Rachael, it never is. “Just because I don’t have a need, doesn’t mean I’m not always prepared. You know, like that scout thing.” Her voice becomes serious as she recites, “Through sleet or snow or dark of night something, something, something, always carry protection.”

My brows pinch together and my lips purse as I try to decipher the meaning of what she said. Nope, I can’t do it. “You know, Rach, that doesn’t even make sense. How many beers have you had? Why don’t you go meet long fingers?”

“This is only my second.” She holds up three fingers, “and long fingers doesn’t want me. He’s practically fucking you with his eyes. Now, go!”

“Nope, not gonna happen. Anyway, we need to go. I’ve got to get up early tomorrow to do some last-minute work at the Manor before Belinda stops by, and you don’t want to pay your babysitter overtime.”

“I guess you’re right. Let me go pee first. I’ll never make it down the mountain with a bladder full of beer.”

“Fine, I’ll go ahead and call an Uber.” Anything to get me away from a tempting situation. I stuff the unwanted condom in my jeans pocket, grab my bag, and head toward the door. I’m proud of myself for not glancing toward the bar as I thread my way through the crowd of people. Once in the hallway, I see the elevator doors closing. There’s no way I want to be left standing until the antique elevator makes it back to the eighth floor, so I run and squeeze through the doors at the very last second, putting an end to any chance of making a bad decision. But I have a feeling it would have been oh, so good.