Evan, ever the skillful athlete, dodged her advances and batted her hands away. "Her boobs were not in my face. It's not my fault if her shirt was low cut. What do you expect me to do? Ask for a new waitress any time we get one that's attractive?" He took a few steps back, just out of her reach and crossed his arms over his chest.
There might have been some incriminating evidence in his inside jacket pocket, but he wasn't going to admit that. The number hadn't even been for him. It had been for a friend. Really!