I slid into the booth, ordered a beer, and let the familiar rhythm of the conversation wash over me. For a few hours, I almost forgot about Tommy Vickers. About the protective detail. About the fear that had taken up permanent residence in my chest.
"So," Brian said, sliding me another beer. "You're serious about her."
I could tell by his tone that he already knew the answer.
"Yeah." I didn't hesitate. "I am."
Brian nodded slowly. "Good. You deserve something real." He paused. "Just don't forget we exist, asshole."
"Never."
Garrett returned from a dart game he'd won without really trying. He sat down and took a long drink of his beer.
"She know about the surveillance?" he asked. "That you pulled strings to be on her detail?"
"She knows."
"And she's okay with it?"
I thought about our fight. The fragile compromise. The way she'd looked at me when she saidtrust me.
"She's not okay with any of it," I admitted. "But she trusts me."
Garrett held my gaze for a moment, something unreadable in his expression. Then he nodded. "That's what matters."
I went to the bar to get the next round.
That's when someone touched my arm.
"Shane Briggs."
I turned. Dark hair, red lips, a dress that was trying too hard to be effortless. It took me a second to place her.
Natalie. Six months ago, maybe seven. One night after a charity gala, when I'd had too much whiskey and too little sense. She’d been persistent. I’d been lonely. And neither of us had pretended it was anything more than what it was. But looking at her now, it felt like a lifetime ago. Like something that had happened to a different person.
She stepped closer, her hand landing on my arm, fingers curling around my bicep like she had a claim to it. My skin prickled with the urge to pull away.
"Shane Briggs." She repeated. Her voice was a purr. "I've been trying to get a hold of you for months. You never texted me back."
"Yeah." I didn't elaborate. Shifted slightly, trying to create distance, but she moved with me.
"That's all I get?" She laughed, but there was an edge to it. "After everything?"
"It was one night," I said. "That’s all it was."
"It was a good night." Her fingers traced up my sleeve, nails dragging lightly against the fabric. I stiffened, jaw tightening. "I've been thinking about it. About you. We could have another one." She leaned in closer, her perfume cloying and too sweet. "I'm free tonight."
I removed her hand from my arm. Firmly. "I'm not interested."
"Come on, Shane." She pouted, but her eyes were calculating. She reached for me again, and I stepped back, putting the barstool between us. "Don't be like that. We had fun. We could have fun again."
"I'm with someone."
"So?" She shrugged, like it was nothing. Like Maya was nothing. "She doesn't have to know."
"We're done here." I flagged down the bartender for my drinks, turning my body away from her.
"Since when are you the faithful type?"
