Kirk and Nathan waited on the sidewalk, both of them in plaid flannel, jeans and tennis shoes. Beau had told them to dress down, choosing a pricey spot to eat, but one with the atmosphere of a hole-in-the-wall.
Beau glanced to his left quickly, a familiar, hot-pink gleam catching his eye. He hadn’t been to Cat Shoppe or any strip club since the night he’d sold his first company to VenTech, who’d fucked up the whole thing. He turned in the opposite direction, pushing that memory down like always when it tried to surface. He signaled for the two of them to follow him.
“Have you been to this bar before?” Beau asked about Hey Joe. “A co-workerrecommended it.”
“We don’t get out much,” Kirk said.
Beau looked back at them, arching an eyebrow. “I didn’t either when I was your age. Let me guess, people tell you all the time that you work too hard?”
“Our friends and family call us freaks.”
“They’re fools.” Beau shook his head. “I don’t regret a minute of it.”
The boys exchanged glances. “We live for it.”
“Then I think this will be a good arrangement for us.”
“Really?” Kirk asked. “Does that mean—”
Beau waved him off. “Listen, if you pick one night to take it easy, it’s tonight. Only because it could be very good for your career. Let’s just have a couple beers and get to know each other. We’ll get to business.”
As they crossed the street, a couple drag-racing cars parked in front of Hey Joe revved their engines. Beau waited for the noise to stop. “You guys up for a game of pool? Play any sports?”
“Mostly video games,” Nathan said, “but we love beer.”
Beau laughed a little. “Beer it is, then.”
The commotion started again. One of the cars spun his wheels against the pavement, burning out, clouding the sidewalk with smoke. Beau looked over when he heard an angry female voice and watched a young woman kick the Subaru’s fender and yell, “Get the fuck lost.”
“Oh, shit.” Nathan snorted. “Did you see that?”
Beau had seen it, loud and clear—a beautiful girl with nerve always caught his eye. The teenage driver jumped out of the car, fuming. Beau did a quick scan of the area and picked up his pace. A crowd had begun to form, but it looked like the woman was alone. Beau shouldered between two gawkers, about to step in the middle, when another man appeared behind her, stopping the boy in his tracks.
Beau also came to a skidding halt as he got a better look at the girl. The whole street seemed to die away, the noise level dropping. She had black hair, stood tall with her shoulders back. Her straight nose ended with a sharp tip, her lips full, but what Beau liked most about her profile was that it was familiar—like he’d found something he’d been looking for. She was gracefulandrough around the edges, a rare combination he’d onlyseen a few times in his life.
The man’s hands were possessively on her as the teenager flipped them off and got back in his car. By her apron and the rag tossed over his shoulder, Beau guessed they worked at the bar he was heading into.
The familiar feeling intensified, urging him to get a better look. He squinted at the woman.
“Mr. Olivier?”
Beau started, looking back at the guys with him. “What?”
“Is this the place?”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Go in, and get a table. I’m right behind you. And call me Beau.”
They left, but Beau stayed where he was, watching the couple interact. The man was tall, slightly heavy with a ponytail. He touched her hair, kissed the back of her head and went inside. Just left her on the sidewalk for anyone to scoop up. The two cars took off, making as much noise as they could. Everyone else scattered down the sidewalk.
The small of her back was exposed, her T-shirt hem not quite meeting her waistband. He hadn’t seen leather pants since the nineties, but there they were, clinging to her like a second skin. Smooth, shiny.
She sighed, turned, caught him staring at her. And he knew instantly. The unmistakable blue of her catlike eyes. Her lithe, lean dancer’s body. A confidence to match her attitude, coupled with the same almost submissive expression she’d worn on stage at Cat Shoppe. Figuring him out. Waiting for his instruction.
“You lost?” she asked.
He pulled up his shoulders. For a moment, it was as if he was back in that round room, looking up at her, her voice guiding him. Yes, maybe he was lost. “What gives you that impression?”
“If you’re looking for happy hour, try a few blocks down.” She pointed in the direction he’d just come from, two rings on her hand, neither of them on her wedding finger.
