Meg again studied Matt’s friend, Dex, who was chatting up Stephanie. Blond, tall, tan and muscular, he didn’t look like any engineer she knew. The engineering majors at her university were pale, scrawny guys who wore glasses.
Come to think of it, Matt didn’t look much like an engineer, either. His toned arms and flat abs were not typical of a desk jockey. The short brown hair fit—
She stopped herself mid-thought. She was stereotyping again. Unlike flying reindeer, hot engineers were more than a figment of someone’s overactive imagination. Best to put away her preconceived notions and try to have some fun.
She still couldn’t believe she’d let Steph talk her into hitting the Crazy-I on a Sunday night. What about setting a good example for the little one?
Meg shrugged to herself. At this point, her baby had no idea what was going on. A little time in a bar, shooting pool and sipping 7Up, wouldn’t do any lasting damage, especially in a smoke-free bar. One of the many things she loved about Flagstaff was it was virtually impossible to smoke indoors.
She knew exactly why she’d agreed. She’d been hoping to run into Matt again. Even though common sense told her she was crazy to consider getting involved so soon after Tim, her heart sang a different verse. As a result, he was never far from her thoughts, awake or asleep.
She watched him line up a shot. He drew back the pool cue and propelled it forward. The nine-ball glided across the table and dropped effortlessly into a corner pocket, so Matt set up to take another shot. Without thinking, Meg’s gaze zeroed in on his denim-clad butt.
Cute. A split-second later, she admonished herself. She shouldn’t think of a friend that way.
Then again, they’d crossed the friend threshold when he kissed her Friday night—and she admitted she wanted to do it again. Not smart. She and the Pea weren’t interested in a rebound fling.
“Crazy,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head to clear it of temptation.
“So, crazy girl, are you taking your shot or not?”
Meg jumped. It was Matt’s other friend, Dave, who’d spoken.
“Sorry. My head wasn’t in the game.”
Dave moved closer to whisper, “I see where your head was—and I say ‘go for it.’” He winked. “Matt’s a stand-up guy.”
Meg felt heat rush to her cheeks. “That’s good to know.”
“Just trying to help.” Dave winked again.
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