And Sloan couldn’t give two shits if she wasn’t. He shrugged. “Have we seen you before, Savannah?”
“No, I don’t think so.” She tipped her head slightly and smiled. “I’ll be right back with your drinks.”
His eyes glued to her voluptuous ass, Sloan chuckled. “She’s not from around here.”
“No?” Kit asked with a roll of his eyes. “What gave it away?”
“I know who y’all are,” Sloan imitated her accent, raising his voice a few octaves. “Who in Chicago saysy’all, huh?”
“Don’t be a dick, Sloan.”
“Isn’t he always?” Matt asked with a snicker.
“Fuck off. Just making an observation.” He lifted his chin at him from across the table. “Sheisa pretty little thing.”
“Leave her alone, man.” Kit nudged his shoulder.
“No worries, dude. Have at her.” His palms up, Sloan leaned away from him. “She’s not my type, anyway.”
“You have a type?” Matt chuckled.
Kit snickered under his breath. “Redheads.”
The look on Sloan’s face was murderous. Once, his former fiancée had a crown of glorious auburn hair. But that was then. Before the dope. Matt hadn’t seen her since Sloan broke it off, but he came across a photo of her in a supermarket rag a couple of years back. He almost didn’t recognize her.
Before Sloan could jump across the table to throttle their bassist, and it looked like he was ready to, Brendan slid into the seat beside him. “Should I ask?”
“Probably not.”
“Sloan starting shit again?”
“You could say that,” Matt muttered. “And Kit finished it.”
Which wasn’t like him at all. Because he, out of all of them, understood the shit Sloan needlessly tortured himself with.
Savannah returned with bottle service for them, placing glasses, a bucket of ice, a decanter of water, and club soda, along with their favorite scotch whiskey on the table. “Will you be joining these gentlemen, Mr. Byrne? Shall I fetch another glass for you?”
“Yes, thank you.” He glanced at her with a smile. “And call me Brendan.”
“Who is she?” Kit asked.
“Savannah?” His smile building, Brendan tilted his head. “She’s new. Has a class with Katelyn. Ava knows her too, I think. She just started working here about a week ago. Why?”
“No reason,” Kit said, his cheeks flushing pink.
With a sly grin, Sloan’s gaze turned from Kit to Brendan. “Where’s she from?”
“Denver. She’s here for college.”
“Told you so.” Chuckling, he plunked ice cubes into a glass.
“Where’d all this interest in my cocktail server come from?”
With a shake of his head, Matt sniggered. “She said y’all.”
“I see.” Looking from Kit to Sloan, Brendan sat back with a nod. “Don’t even think about it. We don’t allow Savannah to… um… engage with members of the Red Door. Club rules.”
Engage? Fancy Schmancy. Don’t you mean fuck?
