I put a finger to my lips. “Shh. Listen. That’s Ambrose, my coworker. I-I can’t have him thinking I’m hooking up in the shop.” I left out the lawyer part.
He smirked but kept his voice to a murmur. “Glad to know you don’t make it a habit. So how do we do this? I’m assuming there’s no back door?” Bailey winked. “Except mine.”
Damn, I still wanted him, bad jokes and all. It was the only reason I came up with the craziest fucking idea. “I’m gonna trust you because you’re Grady’s friend. If I give you the keys to theshop, could you lock up after Ambrose and I leave? You can meet me here in like a couple of hours, okay?”
My heart sank when he narrowed his eyes. “No. I don’t think so.” Surprising me, he put his hand on my nape and yanked me to him, whispering against my mouth. “But you can come to my place, and I’ll give them to you. Along with something else I know you want.” He rocked his hips, and I had to stifle a groan. I remembered what he felt like, which was why I agreed to his ridiculous plan.
“Yeah, okay. Give me your address.” Reluctantly, I pulled away from him, took the extra set of keys from the desk and handed them to him. “Better give me your number too, in case something gets fucked up.”
“The only thing getting fucked tonight is me.” He cupped the bulge in his pants.
“Yeah,” I grunted. “Got that right.” We exchanged numbers, and he texted me his info. “Okay. There are two locks on the front door.”
“What about an alarm? You don’t have one?”
“Yeah, but you can leave it off for one night.” As hot as he was, I wasn’t about to give Bailey the alarm code.
Frowning, he scanned the space. “Not a smart move. You’ve got valuable equipment here.”
The last thing I needed was some uptown guy telling me how to run my shop. “Listen, you take care of your fancy-ass clients, and I’ll handle my business.” But he did have a point. “Fine, set the alarm. Here’s the number.” I smirked. “In case you’re wondering, I’ll be changing it in the morning.”
Steady blue eyes met mine. “Got it.”
“I’ll see you later.” I hesitated, then kissed him. “Bye.”
I left him standing there with his brow furrowed.
“I’m ready, Ambrose. Let’s go.”
We walked out, I locked up, pretended to punch in the alarm to not raise suspicion with Ambrose and we headed down the block.
“What’re you thinking?” I asked him. “Indian?”
“Yeah, sounds good.”
We walked to what was known as Curry Row—the block in the East Village where all the Indian restaurants were congregated. Though most were good, our favorite spot was Veeray da Dhaba. The waiter recognized us and brought us each a Kingfisher beer and our usual assortment of appetizers. While I munched on a samosa, I listened to Ambrose talk about his brother’s continuing legal problems.
“Can you believe I’m still getting bills from that fucking lawyer? I swear they’re vultures, man. Bloodsuckers, all of them.” Ambrose had been in and out of the system throughout his teens and didn’t trust a lawyer as far as he could throw one.
“What’re they asking for?” I took a drink. While no fan of the legal system, I didn’t hate all lawyers, considering my brother was one. He and I had gone through a few tense years when we’d first connected, but we were okay now. It wasn’t his fault he’d been the one to have gotten the more stable home life. Luck of the draw.
“He got billed for the parole hearing. Which was denied.”
The waiter took our order, and I waited for him to depart. “I mean, it’s not a guarantee, is it? And the lawyer did show up, didn’t he?”
Ambrose rested his chin in his hand. “It just sucks, man. I know Lucas was set up. The cops planted those drugs on him. And his shit-talking girlfriend? He never laid a hand on her. They’re all lying. You know how it is.”
I knew nothing of the sort. The times I’d met Lucas, I’d pegged him as a smooth-talking SOB. It wasn’t hard to figure him out. When I was younger, I’d gotten in enough trouble with his kind to see through his bullshit. A man who didn’t seem to work but always had money to burn—what the hell did he do? That, along with the numerous complaints about domestic violence I’d heard over the years, was enough for me to know he was a piece of shit who used Ambrose’s blind devotion to get what he wanted.
“When is his next hearing?”
“Not until next year.”
I tuned out Ambrose’s bitching, wondering if Bailey was going to keep his promise or if I’d made a mistake by giving him my keys. Then I laughed at myself. That guy would never dream of crossing the line. He probably never even jaywalked. I could spot his type a mile away, someone who thought hooking up with a guy like me was walking on the wild side. And God knew, I was happy to oblige and get as wild as he liked.
“Keston, hey.” Ambrose’s fingers snapped in front of my face. “What’s wrong? Did you hear me?”
“Huh?” I blinked and found him staring at me. “Sorry. What did you say?”
