As we settle into the tall chairs, the waitress places a shot glass rimmed in salt in front of each of us, and three more in the middle of the table with a plate of lime wedges.
I scan the room as I pick up the glass and a lime wedge. Men are watching us, but with curiosity or humor, none of them with malice. And none of them are Michael. I relax a little.
“To friendships… both old and new.” Lennon raises her shot glass.
“Damn, Lennon, you about blinded me with that ring.” Sloane lifts her glass to her red lips as they curl into a mischievous grin. “To getting the fairytale ending.”
Lennon laughs, and shakes her head, as she licks salt from the edge of the glass.
“To being in charge of our own destiny.” I lick the salt, down the shot and bite down on the lime wedge.
The explosion of flavors in my mouth makes my shoulders shimmy, my mouth pucker. “Whew.” I accidently make eye contact with one of the men at the table next to us asI’m licking the salt from my upper lip. He’s wearing a dark blue Tampa Bay baseball cap and staring at me a bit too intensely, a grin pulling at one corner of his mouth. I look away.
“Whew is right.” Sloane smacks her lips dramatically. “The first one is the most painful. Just like sex,” she grunts, distributing the rest of the shots. “This one will be smoother.”
We clink glasses and repeat the ritual.
My throat and belly are feeling the burn when the waitress returns with a trayful of appetizers. The scent makes my stomach rumble. It smells delicious. I haven’t had a real meal since Lennon’s dinner party. Unpackaging the crackers, I dig one into the crab dip and moan as it melts on my tongue. Lennon orders a pitcher of margaritas.
Sloane leans her chin on her fist and sighs wistfully at Lennon. “Okay, spill the deets on the honeymoon.”
The conversation and laughter flow between us as we eat and drink. By the time I look up, the place is packed, and there’s a band setting up in the corner. Two older men in cowboy hats and one young woman tuning her guitar. I have a good buzz going and feel lighter than I have in years.
So, this is what normal life feels like.
A sudden pang of loss hits me. And then guilt. No, I wouldn’t trade any of it for Rona. Without the pain, isolation and despair, she wouldn’t have been born.
Still, this is nice.
Sloane excuses herself to go to the restroom.
“So.” Lennon turns to me, her freckles standing out in flushed cheeks, her green eyes glittering. “Like I said, I’m a good listener if you need to get anything off your chest.”
She must’ve noticed my mood shift. God, I would love to share the hell I went through with Michael, the chance I took running from him with Rona. I almost groan. Getting some advice about how to keep her safe would be helpful. But I can’t. The only true way to keep her safe is to pretend like she doesn’t exist.
I force a smile. “I appreciate it, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.” She’s looking at me like she’s unconvinced. So, I have to give her something. I glance around and lean closer. “I had to keep the gang member alive last night so they could… you know… get information out of him. It’s just hard. Being a doctor and doing that.”
At this, she nods and reaches between the half-eaten appetizer dishes to squeeze my hand. “I can’t even imagine.” She cocks her head, her voice dropping. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but Sandro mentioned something about his family helping you get a job working for him off the books. Did you have to leave New York because you were in danger?”
Anxiety tightens my chest. She’s still digging and getting too close to the truth. I can’t lie to her, she’ll see right through that. So, I keep it vague. “I was in a bad relationship.”
Her green eyes are glassy but searching my own for the truth. Finally, she nods, accepting the little information I’ve given as truth. “I’m sorry,” she offers. “But I’m glad you’re here now and safe.” She’s suddenly straining to look behind me, blinking in surprise. “What’s my brother doing here?”
My shoulders stiffen. I don’t turn to look at the door, but I see the reaction of the women around us. The double takes. The whispers. The nudges, the preening and tracking of their gazes. Killian is just one of those men who can’t hide in a crowd. Besides his square-jawed beauty and tall, muscular frame, heowns any room he enters with an easy confidence. It’s like catnip. Poison catnip.
Sloane returns at that moment. “Probably here to check up on you.” She glances at me and then leans closer. “You okay? Your face is flushed.”
“Fine,” I say with too much force. “Alcohol does that.”
So does a hot as fuck, six-three, pierced and tatted Irishman.
Lennon holds up her hand, wiggling her fingers in greeting.
Within seconds I feel his heat at my back. “Ladies. Causing any trouble yet?”
His voice has hormones rushing through my body in a deadly cocktail of stupidity.
Lennon grins, lifting her glass. “Not yet, but the night is young.”
