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.”
Damon rolled his eyes. She was one of those people. He looked over at the bartender. “One peach daiquiri,” he said, sitting down next to her and looking her over. “Do you have a name?” he asked, watching her.
Oh, so he was willing to play along. That raised him a notch. “I do. I assume you do too. Perhaps we could exchange them some time.” She lifted her eyebrows slightly, keeping her smile small and mysterious.