“That’s the spirit, Coop,” Trask snorted good-naturedly, waiting for Lamar to lead the way to the door. “I’ll drive.”
Lamar muttered something under his breath, but his friend ignored him. Ushering Lamar to the maroon sedan, Trask pulled out of the parking garage and drove the six blocks to a hole in the wall pub in silence. Once they were seated at a high-top table in the back with the first round of iced bottles in front of them, though, Trask was through humoring him.
“Start talking,” he ordered, taking the first swallow of his beer.
“About what?” Lamar sniped. “You dragged me here, remember?”
Trask gave an impressive eye roll. “In all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you obsess over anyone like this.”
“I’m not obsessing,” Lamar snapped, toying with the label on his bottle. When Trask raised a brow, he sighed. “Fuck if I know, Vic. Maybe he cast a damn spell on me.”
“Yeah, I already told you that isn’t possible.”
Lamar shrugged. “I don’t know then. I mean, that magic touch of his is awesome, but there’s something else. Just being around him makes me feel warmer inside.” He exhaled sharply. “Doesn’t exactly make sense.”
“Sure it does,” Trask disagreed, swallowing another mouthful of beer. “Sounds exactly like how I feel around Christian.” When Lamar shook his head and opened his mouth, Trask held up a hand. “Don’t bash love at first sight, man.”
“Whatever.” Lamar drained his beer and slammed the bottle back on the table. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. He couldn’t bail fast enough last night.”
“Don’t give up yet, Coop. Wait until you close the murder case and then see what happens.”
“Yeah, sure.” Lamar stared around the room. “Where’s the waitress?”
Trask frowned at his obvious blow off but waved the waitress down for another round.
