Page 2 of The Holy Grail
Since his ass was still parked in his chair, Malcom was now pretty sure the two women weren’t talking about him, and when he discreetly glanced up, it was to see another man making his way to their table. He was blonde, with spiked hair in the front and wearing a green button-down shirt that was a little too tight. He’d paired it with slim-fitting, navy pants, hemmed to just above his ankles, showing off flashy, green-patterned dress socks that looked out of place on a grown man’s feet.
So, that’s what someone on the douchebag spectrum looked like,Malcom mused.
“Hi, I’m Brent,” the man said, coming to a stop next to the redhead and gazing down at her with a wide, almost leering smile.
Malcom watched as she gave him a blinding smile in return. “Hi.”
“I normally don’t approach women in restaurants, but I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you, so I was compelled to take a chance.” Brent pulled a business card out of his wallet and laid it on the table. “I’d really like to have a drink with you sometime—and if you’d like to have a drink with me, then please text me. But if you don’t, and I never hear from you, I’ll understand.” He put a hand over his heart, in what looked like an attempt to convey sincerity, but only served to make him seem like he was a bad actor in a Hallmark movie. “I’ll be devastated, but I’ll understand. So, no pressure.”
With one last smoldering look at the redhead, Brent left.
“Did you see his attempt at smolder?” the redhead asked her friend, the blinding smile turning into a grimace. “Ridiculous.”
“I saw.”
“And he treated you like you were invisible.”
“I know. But believe me, I’m in no way disappointed by that.”
The redhead took Brent’s business card and ripped it into several pieces, before picking up her chopsticks again. “Now I can get back to enjoying my dinner.”
Malcom couldn’t help but chuckle as he looked down at his book, inordinately pleased Brent had been shot down, even if he didn’t know it.
“So, um, Brent wasn’t the guy I said was checking you out,” the brunette said.
That gave Malcom pause, because unless there was athirdguy checking out the redhead, the brunette was likely now talking about Malcom. He perked his ears up, in order to hear as much as he could, because whatever was coming next was either going to be really good … or very bad.
“He wasn’t?” the redhead asked. “You mean there’s another one?”
“Yes. This guy’s wearing a navy suit and has dark-rimmed glasses. And he’s reading a book.”
Yeah, the brunette was definitely talking about Malcom.
“Sounds like a real catch,” the redhead said, deadpan. “Do you mind if I run right over to him?”
Knowing eyes might be on him, he did his best to appear oblivious, but …ouch.
“Be nice,” the brunette admonished, cementing Malcom’s opinion that she was a sweetheart.
“I am being nice,” the redhead insisted. “And anyway, who reads a book in a restaurant?”
“A lot of people do that, actually.”
“I don’t.”
“Okay, a lot of people that aren’tyou, read books in restaurants.”
“What book is he reading?”
“Killing Kennedy.”
There was a pause, before the redhead asked, “How hard is he checking me out? A flattering amount, or douchebag amount?”
“I’d say a flattering amount.”
So, either Malcom hadn’t been as discreet as he’d thought, or the brunette was more observant than he’d thought. Or possibly both.
“Is he attractive?” the redhead continued.
