Page 17 of I'm Looking for a Man in Finance
My fingers tightened around the stem of the wineglass. The words tumbled out of Mark’s mouth and hit me one by one, each heavier than the last. Portfolios. Write-Up. Billion dollars.
Oh my god.
Jameswasa man in finance.
And I’d spent the other night—an entire meal—casually dragging men in his profession to his face.
Nice one, Hallie. And this is why you’re still single.
“I just wanted to make sure our clients’ investments were safe.” James lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “You know, I thought I noticed you could have shifted a few of the accounts you manage today.”
The simple comment leeched all color from Mark’s face and after a long pause, he glanced down at his watch. “This has been great, James. But I just remembered I have some work left to do.” And without a glance in my direction, he hurried out of Whiskey Locker like the place was on fire.
As he left, I could feel James’s eyes on me now, his attention unshakable and intense. It was like he was pulling me into his orbit with every passing second. I wanted to look anywhere but at him, but my body betrayed me, as my gaze lifted to meet his.
God, how tallwashe? Six-four? Six-five, maybe? He made Mark—who I’d mentally filed as “tall enough”—look like a teenage boy who hadn’t hit his growth spurt yet.
“Did he just …?” I muttered, more to myself than to the man standing next to me—who I wasn’t entirely sure just potentially thwarted my lead for the evening on purpose.
“At least you got a drink out of the situation.” James’s voice slid through the air like velvet as he clinked his Old Fashioned against my wineglass. “It’s not a complete loss of an evening.”
“What are you doing here?” The clink of our glasses taking me out of my shocked stupor.
A smirk curled at the corner of his lips, slow and sure. “I’m just enjoying a nice evening out.” His eyes darkened as they held mine, lingering. “I think the better question is what areyoudoing here?”
It was clear what James was getting at. With most of the clientele of this bar being men who worked in the financial district, that simple quirk of his eyebrow told me he knewexactlywhat I was doing here.
I let out a long sigh, the weight of rejection settling heavily in my chest. I’d tried to brush it off in the days since the dinner party, but it was still lingering. I’d thought we’d hit it off—our conversation had flowed so easily, so naturally. It had felt simple, like the beginning of something. I’d expected a contact exchange, maybe even a suggestion to meet up again. But instead, he left me stunned, slipping away from the Grangers’ house without so much as a goodbye or any way to reach him.
And now, standing here in a bar full of finance bros, I realized something I hadn’t before: he never told me what he did for a living. Not once. And I, brilliant in my red lipstick and righteous opinions, had offered myunfiltered thoughts on men in his exact profession—to his face.
Of course he’d taken it personally. How could he not?
I just hadn’t realized it then.
So why do I want to try having another conversation with him?
Before I could subject myself to more embarrassment, I looked for the quickest escape route out of this conversation. “Roxie and I were just about to leave, actually. I figured I’d cut my losses since that’s now two men that have run from me in the last week.”
I should’ve just walked away. But something about the tension between us made me want to face it, if only to get it over with. Maybe it was the look in his eyes—cooler now, unreadable in a way they hadn’t been at dinner. So I didn’t sugarcoat it.
“And if you were going to ghost me, you could’ve at least waited until we finished dessert.”
James let out a laugh, low and quiet, but the warmth from the Grangers’ dining room wasn’t behind it anymore. The spark I’d seen was gone. He’d built something between us now. A wall. And I couldn’t tell if he was waiting for me to climb it or back away.
“Are you sure you were leaving with your friend?” James didn’t even look bothered by my comment as he glanced over my shoulder toward where Roxie and I were first sitting at the bar. “I don’t think she got that memo.”
I turned to see two empty seats where Roxie and the other guy that had approached her had been. With one glance at my phone, I saw a text from her telling me she’d hit it off with “Greg” and was going to grab a bite to eatwith him, but to let her know how my search for my first date goes.
“You’ve got to be kidding me …”
As if this night couldn’t get any worse. While I was happy for Roxie, the best chance I had at securing a date before the end of the week when my first article would be due was now slim to none tonight. Maybe I should have written about her escapades and passed them off as mine.
“Better luck next time.” The wink James gave me nearly sent me over the edge.
“Apparently, my luck has dried out.” I laughed bitterly, feeling the wine in my system loosen my tongue more than it should have. “First you leave without giving me your number after I thought we had a rather great conversation over dinner. But now it makes sense, because I probably offended you the entire time. Then I get ditched by my first potential muse for my series. Why am I even surprised? I am trying to write an article about finding the most eligible bachelor out of a group of workaholics.”
There was a long stretch of silence once I’d finished my rant. I could feel the tension thickening the air around us like a fog. James’s brow furrowed slightly as if my bluntness had caught him off guard. He cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable for a second, before speaking again, his voice softer this time.
