"Thank you for tonight," I say, because I can't find it in myself to stop being polite. "But I think I'm ready to head out."
"Back to mine?" he asks. "Or yours?"
I reach for my clutch. "Uh, I have work early in the morning. I don't think I'll be able to do that."
"Tomorrow's a Saturday" he says.
Oh, so it is. Shoot.
My gaze travels over his shoulder and locks eyes with the man from earlier. Peanut guy, who called me kid , but who'd also promised he would help. He's standing alone by the bar, no blonde in sight. And he catches my gaze.
He raises an eyebrow. You need me?
I give a teeny, tiny nod.
"Audrey?" Brian says. "Come on, have a nightcap with me. At least let me take you home. I'll even let you pick my brain for more stories."
The only thing worse than picking this guy's brain would be having him try to suck mine out again through my teeth.
"Oh," I say. "Goody. But, I don't think-"
The peanut guy has reached us. He puts a hand on the back of my chair, his tall form shadowing our table. "There you are," he tells me. His face is serious, no dimple or charming smile in sight. "We've been looking all over for you."
"You have?"
"Yes. Your mom is beside herself. Come on, we have to get going."
"Right now?" I squeak, looking from him to Brian. His eyes are wide on my suit-wearing savior.
"Yes," peanut guy says. "I have a car outside. If we go now, we can still get there in time. Come on." He turns to Brian. "You understand, I'm sure."
"Yes," he says weakly. "Go on, Audrey."
I stand up and peanut guy holds up my thin jacket. I slide into the arms. "I'm sorry. Thanks for tonight."
He nods, and doesn't even say it back. The jerk. Maybe he's upset he can't keep explaining someone's profession back to them.
"Hurry," peanut guy says by my side. I try to match his long strides through the bar and toward the front door.
"My tab," I whisper to him. "I need to-"
"I've cleared it," he says. "Come on, he's watching."
We emerge into the warm New York air and he lets go of my wrist. My skin tingles where he's held it. "Oh my God," I say, looking over my shoulder at the closed bar door. "That was awful."
"It didn't look great," he says, but he looks mightily pleased with himself. He's even taller out here than he'd been hunched over the bar. Towering over me.
A burst of nerves flitters through my stomach.
"So, what did he do wrong?" he says. "Talk about his mother too much? Compare you to his past dates? Ask you to come back to his and check out his herb garden?"
My nerves die and I laugh. "That would arguably have been worse. No, he didn't do that. He gave me advice about my career."
"That's a bad thing?" peanut guy asks, a raised eyebrow.
"Yes! He knows nothing about it!"
"Ah. Talking out of his ass, then."
"Yes. It was so patronizing I forgot to be nervous. I can't believe I got all dressed up for this," I say, looking down at my uncomfortable shoes. "It looked like you had better luck."
He rubs a hand over his neck, almost as if he's embarrassed, and gestures toward the street. "We should walk. He might leave any minute."
"Oh. And I'm not on my way to my… What was it? My sickly mother?"
"I kept it vague," he says. "Lies usually work better that way."
"You're an expert at it?"
He snorts. "Unfortunately, yeah."
"So?" I press on, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jacket. "How was your date?"
He shrugs. "It went all right."
"I'm sorry if I interrupted it, by needing… assistance," I say.
"Oh, it was already over. I told her I didn't want to see her anymore."
I stop and stare at him. He notices and rolls his eyes. Auburn hair has fallen over his square forehead and his jawline is sharp from this angle.
"Don't look at me that way," he says. "She knew it wasn't going anywhere either."
I think back on the excited blonde he'd chatted to at the bar. "Right," I say.
"At least I didn't lecture her about how to do her job," he says, smiling crookedly. "I know better than to do that."
I rub a hand over my mouth. "God, he kissed me, too. More like lunged at me."
"I saw that," he says, and there's sympathy in his voice. "Didn't look good."
"Definitely wasn't." We've reached my subway stop and I pause, digging through my purse for my card. I doubt he's heading downstairs too. "Thank you for helping out back there," I say.
He nods, eyes on me. "Anytime, kid."
I groan. "Not that again."
"Riling you up is fun."