Damon was bored. It was becoming a recurring theme these days, and honestly he wasn’t having it. He looked around the bar, eyes stopping on a red head. After a moment of pondering, he pushed himself up and strolled over to her. “Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and leaning against the counter next to her.
Summer fumbled the page turn, skipping five pages ahead, at the unexpected voice. Carefully, she laid the ereader down and turned to look at the newcomer, appraising him. Blue eyes, dark hair, appealing bad boy aura. Tall. “I’m sure you’re capable of it,” she replied. “Were you intending to ask permission, perhaps? Then yes, you may. Peach daiquiri.”