I quickly shoot messages to Dan and the girls. I hope they’re up for going out on a Wednesday. Patsy quickly responds.
Patsy:Way ahead of you. LOL. I told the girls he was in town. Sounds like totes fun.
Totes fun?She makes me laugh. People on the bus are staring at me now. They probably think I’m a crazy person for laughing out loud. Oh well. Not going to worry about that now. No, I need to worry about what I’m wearing to work tonight.You know,real-world problems.
Dan: Holy shit. Seriously? Fuck. Bull is going to shit himself. We have practice, but we’ll cancel it. See you at Cy’s.
Me:Yep. C U
Chapter Twenty-Five
The joint is jumpin’, as they say. When I first got to work, there were only a handful of people here. Now there’s an entire rugby team and their entourage, my roommates, and Tayler. It’s a party. Luckily for me, I’ve only had to pour beer so far. Luke has decided to let me try it on my own. He’s still here, lurking in the kitchen and his office. Well, correction—as soon as the rugby team got here, he’s been staying close to the bar area. But I’ve been holding my own.
When the door opens, I stop what I’m doing and hold my breath. Then I release the breath and slump. Still no Cooke. I guess I should have asked him what time he’d be here. I’d text him, but Luke would frown upon that, even though I warned him that everyone was coming to meet my friend. Apparently, Luke doesn’t pay much attention to sports. His words. He said his life is this bar. That’s sort of sad, really.
As I start to pour a pitcher for Bull—get this… the pitcher is his glass—the door opens again. I turn my head in time to see the man himself step through the door. What was especially strange was the noise in the bar. There was none. The second he stepped foot into the place, it went dead silent. Well, until one of the rugby guys said, “Jesus, look at the size of him.” Several people laugh, me included.
But once the shock wears off, he’s practically attacked by the hordes. I watch as he talks, jokes, and laughs with everyone around him. At one point, Bull looks over at me, and I swear he’s crying. Maybe I underestimated Cooke’s fame. Hell, even Luke seems to be a little starstruck. Since Cooke’s been here, Luke’s been bombarding me with questions about him like, “How do you know him? Where did you meet him? Are you sure you can trust him?” I wasn’t sure what he meant by the last question, but I quickly answered it, and he seemed to be satisfied.
Once everyone has had a chance to talk or just touch Cooke, he steps up to the bar. “Hey, Q.”
“Hi, Cooke. What can I get you?”
“Guinness, please, lass.”
“Bottle or tap?”
He arches a brow at me like I asked him something stupid. “Tap. Always tap.”
“Right.” I laugh and pour him his Guinness. God, I hope I did it right. Sliding the glass to him, I hold my breath, half expecting him to critique my pour, but he doesn’t. Instead he places the glass to his lips and drinks fast. Almost half the beer is gone in one go. I watch his throat bob up and down as he drinks. It’s sexy. Okay, I know that sounds weird, but everything about Cooke Thompson is sexy.
“You look beautiful, Quinn.”
“Huh?” I’m taken aback by his words.
He chuckles. “I said you look beautiful.”
“Oh.” I look down at myself. Black tee, black jeans, black Converses. “Thanks?” I guess I did do something with my hair. I flat-ironed it and left it down for once. And I have makeup on, so there’s that. “Are you okay with everything?” I point to the crowd behind him. I’m worried he’s annoyed by all the attention.
“I’m perfect. No worries. Your mates are cool.”
Just then, I let my eyes move to Cooke’s left. Bull is seated next to him, staring at Cooke. “You need another beer, Bull?” I ask.
He nods, so I pour another pitcher.
“Cooke, I think you’ve got a true fan there.” I nod to Bull.
Bull grunts. “You’re the bomb, Corinne.”
“It’s Quinn,” Cooke snaps.
Bull quickly corrects himself. “Right. Sorry, Quinn. I asked you to get him here, and you did.” He holds his palm over his chest. “I’m at your service anytime you need me or any of us.” He picks up the phone he’s got in front of him. “Give me your digits.”
I start to laugh but stop when I look at Cooke.
“And why is that?” he asks, anger written all over his pretty face.
Bull stares at Cooke, and I see real fear there. “So I can text her, so she has my number, sir. If she needs protection or whatever, she’s got the entire team at her disposal.”
