Heath threw me an annoyed glance. “Yeah, it’s not a mistake I’m going to make again, though, don’t worry.”

I shrugged. “I don’t mind. As long as no one asks me to dance.”

A weird look crossed his face. “Do you see anyone dancing? There’s no dancing. There are lots of people hooking up, though, and it was a huge-ass mistake to bring you here.”

“Why?”

“Because every guy in this room has checked you out like five times already.”

I laughed. This conversation with Heath was reminding me of that strange chat with Jordan at the hotel in New York. “Don’t worry, I’m spoken for. I won’t be going home with any phone numbers.”

I dropped my butter knife on the floor and reached to pick it up, turning to glance at a group of men sitting at the table behind us. There were three of them. One of them met my gaze and nodded, smiling. I straightened, turning back to Heath.

“So which one is it?” I asked.

“Guy with his back to you,” Heath muttered, looking away, his knee bobbing up and down even faster.

“Why don’t you go talk to him?”

He looked back at me, even more annoyed. “Because one of two things is going on. They either think we’re a couple and I’m the lucky idiot who ended up with the dark-haired hottie, or they are looking at you and I might as well be a Klingon for all they give a shit about me.”

I frowned at him. Not that I normally assessed another guy’s looks, but Heath was not a bad-looking guy at all. He was tall, very well built—imposingly so—with dark blond hair and vivid green eyes. Not someone who, I thought, should be self-conscious about his looks.

“Didn’t mean to cramp your style, man.” I shot him a grin. “I can’t figure out a way to broadcast my sexual orientation.”

Heath’s eyes narrowed for a minute, but then his gaze brightened. He pulled a pen from his pocket and scribbled something on a napkin. “Do me a favor and stick this on your forehead, will you?”

He handed me the napkin and I read it. In three capital letters, underlined, HET, for heterosexual. I laughed and crumpled the napkin. “Nice try. Maybe I’ll cramp your style after all.”

I glanced over my shoulder again to see where the guy was sitting behind me. Then I tossed the ball of crumpled napkin so it hit the guy square in the back of the head. Then I ducked to the side as if Heath had thrown the napkin at me and I’d bent out of the way. The mortification on Heath’s face almost made me bust a gut laughing.

I immediately turned around and met the gaze of the guy sitting behind me. He had reddish blond hair and was glaring at me with bright blue eyes. He turned and grabbed the napkin, then read it, looking at me with a raised brow. I scooted my chair around and put out a placating hand. “I’m sorry about that. My buddy over here meant that for me but I was too quick for him and he got you instead. He’s just harassing me about my sexual orientation.”

The guy threw a quizzical glance at Heath, who turned beet red. I held out a hand. “I’m Adam. That’s my friend Heath. I believe he owes you an apology. What’s your name?”

The guy now had an unsure smile as he reached to shake my hand. Then he looked at Heath, his smile growing wider. “My name’s Connor,” he said in a very distinctive Irish accent. “And these are my friends Jess and Xander.”

I nodded to them. “Good to meet you.”

“Sorry about the bad aim,” Heath said, glancing at me without accusation.

Connor turned back to Heath and his smile grew. Clearly he liked what he saw. “No problem. But if it happens again I’ll have to take you out.”

“How about a round of drinks?” I said. “What are you all drinking? It’s on me since, for once, I’m the one in the minority here.” They all laughed. We ended up pushing the tables together and having a nice long conversation about war games—apparently Connor had served in the army and was amused by our trophy paintball welts. It gave Heath a chance to flash his biceps, too, which I’m sure he appreciated.

When we left a few hours later, Heath and Connor had entered numbers into each other’s phones and I was satisfied.

On the way out to the parking lot, Heath was still in raptures about his new acquaintance. “That accent…my God, when I heard him talk I almost died.”

“Kinda sounded like a leprechaun to me,” I said.

“It’s a good thing you’re straight and have excellent taste in women because you have no taste in men.”