Unexpectedly, she flashed him a wide, bright smile, indicating she intended to continue the conversation. How does she have perfect teeth too? Part of him couldn’t believe she was even talking to him. If he’d spotted her at O’Reilly’s, no way in hell would he have worked up the courage to approach. Trev couldn’t even imagine that he was her type. Then she stepped closer, and he understood. Judging by the smell and the glint in her eyes, she’d been pregaming, so she was already working with beer goggles. A few drinks in, and he became a decent option. Disappointment deluged him, though he didn’t let his smile falter.

At least I’m talking to someone, even if she’s drunk.

“You didn’t tell me your name, prospective third husband.” She stepped into his space and tilted her head, peering up at him through her lashes.

“Trevor. Friends call me Trev.”

“Do you think we’ll be friends?” There was no mistaking that flirtatious tone, the gentle brush of her hand over his bare forearm.

That innocuous touch felt better than it should have, reminding him just how long it had been. It was a little embarrassing how touch starved he felt. Trev paused, unsure what he was supposed to say. If she’s messing with me…

Before he could respond, she went on, “I hope not.”

She came over here to fuck with my head? That’s so not on. He spoke through clenched teeth. “Oh yeah? Well—”

“Because you’re totally my type, and it’ll piss me off if you friend-zone me. I just wanted to put that out there first thing.” Then her gaze legit wandered up and down his body, elevator-eyeing him in a way he’d never experienced.

I think I like it.

In the abstract, it wasn’t respectful to objectify people, but it had been so damn long since anyone looked at Trev like he was worthwhile, let alone desirable, that a minor spark went through him, just from the way she was inspecting him. He stifled the urge to straighten his shoulders, like he was a horse she might decide to ride. Wait, bad analogy. Or considering how her regard intensified, maybe it was the right one after all.

“What do you think? Am I the kind of woman you find attractive? Shit, that was presumptuous, wasn’t it? That’s if you—”

“I do,” he blurted. “Like women. I mean, frankly I’d consider anyone if our personalities clicked, but…” He took a breath, wishing he didn’t have to do this. “Are you seriously trying to hook up with me right now?”

Leanne smirked, and it was such a cute expression that his breath caught. “What was your first clue, Surfer Boy?”

“I’m not a surfer. I mow lawns and I need a haircut.”

“You really want me to call you Lawn Boy?” she asked in a skeptical tone.