And then he starts walking. Straight toward me.
But something’s wrong. His jaw is tight, brows drawn together, and there’s a storm in his expression that makes my stomach drop. He looks… angry. Really angry.
Oh crap. What did I do?
The noise of the bar fades as he closes the distance. Taylor and Mikey have stopped their game. I can feel the whole crew’s attention shifting. Xander steps slightly to the side, giving us space, but he doesn’t leave.
Olivier stops a couple of feet away, arms crossed over his chest. Up close, he’s even more intimidating, all compact muscle, controlled energy, the faint scent of kitchen smoke and something spicy clinging to him.
“Danny, right?” His voice is low, clipped.
I nod, throat dry. “Y-yeah. Hi. Um… what are you doing here?”
Smooth, Danny. Realsmooth.
His eyes narrow. “I could ask you boys the same thing. This your idea of a good time after I just comped you a five-star meal?”
I blink, confused. “I… we just wanted some beers and pool. This place has good reviews?—”
“Good reviews,” Olivier repeats, voice flat. “You looked up my restaurant too, I assume. Decided it wasn’t enough?”
My face burns. “No! That’s not—your food was incredible. Seriously. Best meal I’ve had in forever. We just… we’re construction guys. This is more our speed after work.”
Olivier studies me for a long moment, and I swear I can’t breathe. The anger in his eyes hasn’t faded, but there’s something else there too—something that makes my knees feel weak.
Xander clears his throat lightly. “Olivier. Everything okay?”
Olivier’s gaze flicks to Xander, then back to me. “Fine. I heard your crew was heading to one of the local spots. Figured I’d see how the other half lives.” His tone softens, but only a fraction. “Didn’t expect to find the guy who couldn’t stop staring at me all night hiding out in a dive bar.”
Oh God.
The crew erupts in low whistles and chuckles. Mikey yells, “Busted!” from the pool table. My face is on fire. I want the floor to open up and swallow me whole.
“I wasn’t—I mean, I didn’t mean to—” I stammer, gripping my beer like a lifeline.
Olivier steps closer, close enough that I have to look down to meet his eyes. Even angry, he’s gorgeous. Maybe especially angry.
“Relax,” he says, voice quieter now but still edged. “I’m not here to bite your head off. Though you’re making it tempting.”
I swallow hard. “Sorry. For… staring. Earlier.”
He tilts his head, considering me. The anger seems to ease, replaced by something sharper, more intense. “Don’t apologize. Just don’t hide in corners when you’re interested in something. Or someone.”
My heart slams against my ribs. Is he… flirting? After storming in here like he wanted to yell at us?
Xander chuckles beside me. “I think that’s my cue to grab another pitcher. Olivier, you sticking around?”
Olivier doesn’t look away from me. “Maybe. Depends if this one can handle a real conversation…”
The crew hoots again.
Taylor calls out, “Danny can handle anything, chef! He’s our forklift king!”
I shoot Taylor a desperate look, but he just grins. Traitor!
Olivier’s lips twitch—the barest hint of a smile. “We’ll see about that.”
He pulls out a stool at the nearest high-top and sits, gesturing to the empty one across from him. “Sit. Drink. Tell me why a guy built like you gets flustered when someone looks back…”
