Chapter Ten

                                    

                                          
Chapter Ten
Wade
"A rodeo bar?"
Megan asks incredulously as we walk inside a southern-themed bar. The place glows in the darkest shade of red, emitting an enigmatic atmosphere, but still provides a modicum of privacy to the patrons. There's a band serenading the crowd with a country song, which blends well with the low hum of chatters surrounding us.
I usher Megan toward the furthest table where only a single yellow light illuminates the space. My hand waves to demand a passing waitress's attention.
"What can I do for ya, pretty boy?"
My eyebrow shoots up at the name as I take the menu from her. What the fuck.
I cautiously peer up at Megan's reaction, but slight embarrassment instantly flows through me. Her plump, sexy lips are lifting slightly at the corners, making me narrow my eyes. But it only deepens.
I pass her the menu. "Order up."
She shakes her head. "You can order for me. I'm not familiar with this place."
I shrug and choose grilled chicken and a bottle of red wine. "Give us ten minutes to cook your chicken. Be right back."
The waitress winks at me, but my attention is already on the gorgeous woman in front of me.
Megan starts humming along with the soft, husky timbre of the vocalist that fills the silence. "You know the song?"
She smiles. "Yeah, but not familiar with the lyrics. Why bring me here, by the way?" I open my mouth to speak, but she holds up her hand to cut me off. "Wait! I'm not saying I don't like it here, not being choosy at all. Just..."
"It's private. I mean, there are a lot of people but they aren't interested in the news or surfing the Internet. So it's safe and we won't be recognized at all."
She glances around, taking in the cowboy hats and boots, men with long beards and mustaches—mostly older men who don't give a flying fuck about the business world. There's also a young, geek couple in the middle and a few depressed men wearing dress shirts tucked in their pants who are only interested in their beers.
A perfect place to blend.
She scrunches her nose. "Yeah, you're right. It's absurd to assume a bachelor who poses for the front cover of People to be here." I cringe. I wonder when I can put that little stunt behind me. She gasps. "Aw, you don't want to talk about it, pretty boy?"
"Can we please forget about that?"
She rests both of her elbows on the table and pins me with an intent stare. "Why?"
"What do you mean why? I had a very honorable reputation before that little stunt. But now, I'm the object of women's fantasies."
A chuckle. "And you hate it? You were all intense in there, what were you expecting?"
"I don't know, I never really cared."
Awkward silence engulfs us after that. Then her phone pings. She quickly types on it after reading the message. My curiosity gets the best of me, though I'm aware it's crossing the line.
"Is there a boyfriend looking for you?"
There's none. I know it. Her last relationship of four years ended a few months ago. She has never dated anyone since.
"Oh no, it's the group chat. They are asking where I am." She puts the phone down and smirks. I got lost in it for a second. "I told them I'm with a pretty boy in a bar."