“Exactly.” Liam reached for my hand, his fingers brushing mine before locking them together. My breath hitched as a jolt of heat shot through me. I stared at our joined hands, unsure of what to make of the butterflies suddenly swarming in my chest.
A terrifying thought flickered through my mind so fast it left with a shudder.
Am I…
Could he be…
Is this why Dahlia messed with my love lifetonight?
No. I shook my head, refusing to consider the idea and followed quietly. We walked past the line, ignoring the irritated glances and muttered complaints. A burly man stood at the door with arms crossed, his skeptical gaze shifting when he saw us. I swallowed hard and prepared myself for the mortification of being turned away at the door. There was no doubt in my mind that the people we passed were staring, waiting to laugh at us when we made the walk of shame to the back of the line.
“Ralph,” Liam greeted, his voice carrying an easy confidence as he nodded at the bouncer.
The bouncer’s broad face twisted from confusion to shock. “What are you doing here?” Then, as if catching himself, he blurted, “Not that you shouldn’t be here. I mean, you can be here, obviously. Just... it’s unexpected.”
Liam arched a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching to fight another one of those disarming smiles. “Relax, Ralph. It’s fine. I just wanted to show this pretty girl a good time. Is that alright with you?”
Ralph’s eyes darted to me, briefly taking me in before returning to Liam. “Does she know about the… you know?” he asked, his voice dropping conspiratorially.
Liam sighed a long-suffering sound. “Dude. Really?”
“Right. Sorry.” Ralph straightened, stepping aside quickly as if to make up for the slip. “Are we still on for Tuesday?”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Liam replied, guiding me inside with a light hand on my back.
As we stepped into Abbott's, the familiar sound ofDropKick Murthy’sfilled the air, weaving through the hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses. I glanced around the room, taking in the warm glow of hanging lights and the polished wood that gave the place a rustic, cozy charm. Green shamrocks and streamers were everywhere. It looked as if Party City loaded a cannon with every St. Patrick’s Day themed item they sold and shot it into the room. The decor was overwhelming but not tacky. Surprisingly, I liked it.
I leaned toward Liam, my curiosity overcoming my initial reluctance to show any interest in his life beyond tonight, and asked, “What’s happening on Tuesday?”
Liam flashed me one of those stomach-twisting smiles and, though I refused to admit it, my knees might have wobbled a bit. “Ralph’s kid has a hockey playoff.”
“On a Tuesday?” I asked, lifting a brow. Curiosity was the feeling I needed to focus on, not the warmth and adoration that Liam would give up his Tuesday night to watch a friend’s kid play hockey.
“Well, when you’re six, the arena fits the games in wherever they can,” he said with a chuckle, leading us toward the main bar across the room.
I wiggled through a maze of bodies, trying to keep up with Liam as he slipped effortlessly through the crowd. Rather than pushing through people for a spot at the front, Liam slipped behind the bar with practiced ease. He tapped the bartender on the shoulder. She jumped, almost dropping the drink she was mixing, and spun around.
“Liam!” she scolded, her voice carrying over the hum of the bar. She poured and garnished the drink, then handed it to the patrons who ordered. “You’re not supposed to be here tonight.”
“So I’ve been told, Amber,” he replied, his expression boyish and unapologetic.
“It’s your night off,” Amber said, poking a finger at his chest. “Youpromisedyou wouldn’t be here. What gives?”
Liam glanced at me briefly, the corner of his mouth twitching, before answering, “Needed a good drink. Figured this was the best place to get one.”
Amber let out an exasperated groan and shook her head. “There are a million bars in this city, Liam.”
“But none of them have you,” he countered smoothly, his grin widening. “Now, if you won’t make me something fabulous, I’ll just have to do it myself.”
Amber rolled her eyes, grabbed a glass from the cooler, and placed it under the tap. “Your bar, your rules?” she muttered under her breath as she set to work on someone else’s order.
“You’re impossible,” Liam teased, leaning casually against the counter. “What about you? Why are you here? I thought tonight was your night off.”
“It was supposed to be,” Amber admitted, looking slightly sheepish. “But Stephanie’s birthday is coming up, and Chloe called out, and I figured I might as well cover the shift.”
“Who’s watching Stephanie?” Liam’s voice softened, his teasing tone replaced with genuine concern.
“She’s in the back,” Amber said quickly, her words tumbling over each other. “I hope you don’t mind. She’s just sleeping, and she’s not bothering anyone, and I check on her every thirty minutes. It’s more than I would do if she were at home.”
