Page 8 of Body Shot

Carrie’s eyebrows rise and she crunches her chip. “Nope.”

I tell the embarrassing story and Carrie covers her mouth with her hand, eyes dancing. This isn’t the first time I’ve done something like that. “Oh, Hayden. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I felt like an idiot.”

Carrie’s gaze shifts to my rescuer. “Sweet baby Jesus, check out the sexy man bun. And those biceps . . . his tattoo . . . he ishot.”

“I know. I was so flustered I could barely talk. I mean, I was a little shaken up from hitting the post, but then he was holding me and all I could think was . . . wow.”

“Well, hey, you get a chance to thank him again.”

“No. I can’t talk to him. He’s too good-looking.”

Carrie snorts. “No, honey, that’s not how it works.”

I shake my head, glancing at the bartender again. “Whatever,” I mumble.

“Hayden Miles, you are a professor and successful entrepreneur and one ofTech Mag’stop thirty-five innovators under thirty-five. You can flirt a little with a hot bartender.”

“He’s abartender.”

“I didn’t say you have to marry him. Lighten up. Have some fun.”

I roll my eyes.

The bartender carries the tray toward us now, and he stops in the middle of the long, polished wood bar to set the tray down, glancing to his right and left to assess the people there. His gaze lands on me. He tips his head to one side, forehead creasing. Then a slow smile breaks out on his face.

Heat curls low down inside me.

“Hey,” he says moving closer. “I recognize you.”

My cheeks warm at the memory. “Um, yeah. Hi. Again.”

“How’s the shoulder?”

“It’s fine.” I try a casual smile. “Uh, thanks again for helping me out that day.”

“Not a problem. I almost didn’t recognize you.” His gaze moves over my bare shoulders and arms and then my face and hair. Heat slides from my face down to my chest and belly at his warm appraisal. “So you’re here for the tequila tasting?”

“Yes.” I flick my eyes toward Carrie. “My friend bought us tickets.”

He flashes a smile at Carrie. “Great. It’s gonna be fun.”

Marco, the man who greet us, joins him. “And educational,” he adds.

I stare at the men, my heart flip-flopping in my chest at the sight of these two beautiful men. Both have dark hair, but Marco’s skin is darker, his hair short and beard stubble barely there, compared to the other man’s long, pulled-back hair and heavier beard.

“Marco is our tequila expert,” the bartender says. He looks up and down the bar again. “Well, we should get started. Hi, everyone. I’m Beck Whitcomb, one of your hosts tonight. This is Marco, who as I said is our expert tequila aficionado. Over there is Cade, who knows more about numbers than tequila.” All heads swivel to the far end of the bar, where a man leans against the counter.

He lifts a hand and grins. “I know I like it.”

Everyone laughs.

“Wow,” Carrie whispers, leaning in close to Hayden. “He’s gorgeous too. This place is awesome!”

I bite my lip on a smile.

“Tonight we’ll be tasting five kinds of tequila,” Marco announces. “But first, let’s talk a little about tequila in general. Tequila was first produced by Spanish conquistadors in the sixteenth century.”

---