Page 13 of My Super Sexy Spy
I turned my attention back to Ted. Ted, who had probably cost me my one and only chance with Mr. Dangerous.
“What?” I asked.
“Looks like a douchebag to me, but hey, whatever rocks your boat.”
“Yeah,” I snarled. “Well, he might have beenrockingmy boat if you hadn’t gotten in the way.”
Ted shrugged. “Sorry about that. It’s not like I even wanted to flirt with you. I just heard the American accent and got a little homesick.”
“So, you buying me a drink is not flirting with me,” I said, feeling somehow offended. Which made no sense because I didn’t want Ted to be flirting with me. I wanted that to be Mr. Dangerous.
“Nope. You’re not really my type. I like a little more…” Then he cupped his palms under his chest.
I punched him then. Hard on the arm.
“Ow! That actually hurt.”
“It was supposed to hurt, you jackass. You don’t walk up to strange women and tell them they’re too flat-chested for you.”
He actually looked sheepish. “You’re right. I apologize. Just because you’re an American and I’m an American and we’re in this foreign country doesn’t automatically make us friends. It just kind of feels like it, doesn’t it?”
“My friends don’t insult me.” Or at least if I had any I’m sure they wouldn’t.
“I wasn’t trying to insult you, I promise. I was just trying to explain in a very, very bad way that I’m not trying to hook up with you. I’m just looking for someone to hang out with. I did this trip on my own, and while it’s been cool, I can see how having someone to do stuff with would be more fun. You looked like you were on your own, too.”
“I am.”
“What do you say we do the tourist thing together? What are your plans?”
“Myplanwas too hook up with the superhot guy at the end of the bar,” I said snootily.
“Well, how do you know he won’t be right back here tomorrow night?”
There was that. A woman could hope. Plus, now that I knew he was interested, we wouldn’t have to waste so much time playing theI’m looking at you but I’m not looking at yougame.
“He could be,” I conceded.
The bartender dropped our drinks in front of us and Ted paid. At least there was some satisfaction in that. These martinis were, like, twenty euros a pop. He’d ruined my chance at breaking free of my self-imposed prison and for that, he had to fork over the cash.
“Let’s forget The Douchebag.”
“You mean the superhot guy? I’m calling him Mr. Dangerous.”
His lips twitched and he took a sip of his beer. “You know I could be offended now, too. The way you refer to him as superhot sort of implies I’m not.”
He wasn’t. He was a super normal looking guy. But unlike him, I wasn’t about to suggest he wasn’t my type. That might hurt his feelings.
I said nothing and popped a vodka-soaked olive into my mouth instead.
“So, you want to do it?” he asked me.
I raised my eyebrows.
“Check out Venice together. Geesh, are you that hard up that everything has innuendo?”
I was a little hard up, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. It wasn’t like I thought sex with some random dude might change my opinion of sex. It just seemed like a way to push myself out of my comfort zone.
Lights on sex. Not Jared sex. Mr. Dangerous sex.
