Did he have all the answers? No, otherwise Vance wouldn’t have called me in. But was he miles ahead of the pack? Probably. Exhibit A—he’d been the first man in a long time to spark my curiosity and pebble my skin with just his words.
It was safe to say where women and sex were concerned, he knew what he was doing. The woman’s eyes sparkled as she set her elbows on the table and laughed. Sebastian turned her forearm up and traced the lines of her tattoo. She bit her bottom lip and I almost did too just wondering how it would feel for him to touch me with such focus, such interest.
He was making my attempt at game look like child’s play, and I didn’t have to stick around to watch. Not only was I about to get pummeled, but the jealous thoughts forming in my head weren’t going to help anything.
I turned and signaled for Santino to close my bar tab.
Justin leaned over to me. “You’re not going to sit back and let him win, are you?”
“This has been fun, but I should get home,” I said and thought, Bruno, Luciano, and Tim Gunn are waiting for me.
“But he’s had it too easy for too long. If I know Seb, he’ll have this girl hanging all over him by the end of the night.” Justin ducked his head to catch my eye. “Provided he doesn’t encounter any, ah, turbulence.”
It would take more than a few bumps and jolts to knock Sebastian out of the sky. Justin thought I could still win this challenge, but in order to do so, I’d have to pull out all the stops. I looked back over my shoulder at the new couple that could only be described as beautiful. Had it always come as easy to Sebastian as Justin had said, or had he battled through an awkward stage like the rest of us?
“Is sabotage against the rules?” I asked.
“Hmm, let me see.” Justin pretended to check his notepad and said, “Nope.”
I had a choice. Slink away like I normally would and let Sebastian win, or prove that my strength carried outside the office. It would’ve been much easier to resign myself to the life I was clearly meant to have—knitting in a rocking chair, Bruno at my side, empty ice cream pints scattered on the floor. If I were an alien, my mothership would be a Dreyer’s pint. And, okay, I didn’t knit, but that was a minor detail. I’d have plenty of time to learn. At age thirty, I was probably about halfway to retirement, and then I could really lean in. It wasn’t such a bad life.
Unfortunately, the idea of Sebastian winning got under my skin almost as much as the thought of him taking the golden goddess home tonight. I’d had the pleasure of his attention once, and Monday morning was already beginning to feel like a lifetime ago, but I hadn’t forgotten how it’d felt to have Sebastian flirt with me. That alone wasn’t enough to get me out on a limb, but I’d known this job would be a challenge, and apparently that didn’t stop at the office. I owed this to myself.
I racked my brain for a reason to interrupt them. Judging by the way the woman’s eyes were glued to his face, it would take a lot to unstick her. When Santino set the bill holder in front of me, I slid it back to his side of the bar. “Never mind,” I said. “I’m staying.”
“Atta girl,” Justin said. “Take that arrogant asshole down.”
I couldn’t help smiling. “I thought he was your friend.”
“I love the guy, but I love to fuck with him more.”
I sucked in a breath and started toward them before I could chicken out. The woman looked up first, and then Sebastian. His eyebrows rose higher the closer I got. I grabbed a chair from the next table over, pulled it up between them, and planted my ass right on it. “Bravo, Sebastian,” I said breathlessly and began to applaud. “That was excellent work. You’ve come so far.”
His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “I’m sorry . . . what?”
“Oh, no. I’m being rude.” I turned to the woman and stuck out my hand. “Georgina Keller.”
“Um, hello.” She took my hand. “I’m Isabella?”
“Are you?” I asked. I got a scratchpad from my purse, flipped it open, and pretended to read the field notes I’d made a few days back while observing customers in the magazine aisle at Barnes and Noble. “Isabella, can I ask you some questions?” As she opened her mouth, I continued, “On a scale of one to ten, how well would you say Sebastian did at starting a conversation?”
“I’m sorry?” she asked in an accent far lovelier than anyone deserved. Italian, like my mom’s side of the family.
Sebastian drew back. “Georgina—”
“God, where is my brain tonight?” I asked. “I should’ve mentioned this since Sebastian obviously wouldn’t. I’m his coach.”
“Coach?” she asked. “What does that mean?”
“Sebastian and I have been working on some . . . tactics,” I said gently, emphasizing the word as if it were a dirty one. “I’m a renowned pick-up artist—and Sebastian’s dating coach!”
The woman’s mouth went round. “Did you say pick-up artist?”
“I know, I know,” I said, waving my hands. “Forget what you’ve heard. It’s not as skeevy as it sounds. People have coaches for everything else. Why not the most important thing there is? Love,” I said before she could answer. “I work with those who are, well, for lack of a better word . . .” I smiled broadly at Sebastian and patted his shoulder. “Romantically challenged.”
Isabella’s eyes darted between the two of us before she fixed her glare on Sebastian. “You were practicing on me?”
Seeing as his jaw nearly rested on the table, he didn’t respond. I leaned over to Isabella and whispered loudly enough for Sebastian to hear, “Take it as a compliment, sweetheart.”
“A compliment?” she asked.
It was working. She looked almost as horrified as Sebastian. The fact that I’d made his jaw drop did more than boost my confidence—it made me want to giggle. I was having fun. I leaned back in my seat and addressed Isabella. “By the way, if you know of anyone who could use some help getting dates, you can find me at fromchumptohump-dot-com, formerly fromdisstokiss-dot-com, formerly fromwimptopimp-dot—”
“We get it,” Sebastian said through his teeth, then turned to Isabella. “You’re not buying this, are you?”
“How do you spell that first website?” Isabella asked me, fishing around her purse, presumably for her phone.
I gave Sebastian what I hoped was an ultra-casual smile. “Sebastian has been one of my best students to date. He’s a fast learner.” I let my smile fall into a cringe. “You should’ve seen him just last month.”
“All right.” Sebastian’s nostrils flared. “That’s enough.”
Isabella squeaked. “What was he like last month?”
“Oh, you wouldn’t believe it.” I remembered in college reading about an author who’d written a book on how to be a player. I’d never read it, but apparently, I didn’t need to. With a little help from Garth’s “geek” how-to, the ideas flowed like a river of melted butter. “His mother booked me through my website,” I said. “I found him in New Jersey sitting in her basement on a throne of pizza boxes playing Minecraft. Not even Fortnite! At least that takes skill.” I shook my head solemnly and looked at Sebastian. “You’d be surprised what I can do with a man who was recently masturbating to animated women in midriffs.”
“Did you say New Jersey?” Isabella asked.
I leaned in confidentially. “He was wearing those pajama jeans from Costco.”
“Costco?” Isabella stood so fast, her chair nearly toppled over. “You used me, you pig,” she said, snatching her purse from the back of her chair before she stormed out.
I grimaced. “The masturbating comment was too far, wasn’t it?”
Sebastian glared at me. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Did you think I’d just hand over victory?”
“Justin put you up to this, didn’t he?”
Sebastian was angry. My instinct was to go red in the face and apologize profusely for interrupting his evening. I’d come this far, though, so I battled through it. “Listen, if you can’t come back from that, then you’ve been resting on your looks too long.”