“So did this complicated guy uncomplicated himself or something?” she asked while he stowed his phone in a break room locker. “Because forgive me for using a really old saying, but you look like the cat that ate the cream.”
“Or something,” he replied. “The threesome happened. Kind of. And we all want it to happen again.”
Beatrice’s eyes widened. “Really? You’re wading into a three-way relationship?”
“I think so. I mean, yes, we are. I feel something when I’m with these guys, Bea, and it’s so unique and precious, and I’m scared not to try. What if complicated is actually what will make me happy, and I don’t take a chance on it?”
“Follow your heart, honey.” She frowned. “Wait a minute, the threesome happened when?”
“Today. Fading Daze is on vacation for a week, so Benji invited me over to the house. I thought he was going to ream meout over kissing Joshua, but instead he said he wanted to even things out by kissing me. Things kind of exploded from there.”
“Huh. Do you think the band will stop by tonight?” Already her mind was shifting from his love life to the business, and he was okay with that.
“I know Benji and Joshua are. Dunno about the rest of the band.”
“Well, we’ll keep our fingers crossed.”
“So you can pester them onstage again?”
“I didn’t pester. They went quite willingly, as I recall.”
Except Benji had stayed behind to flirt with Van, and Trey had filled in on male vocals. The original Fading Daze was now reunited. Van had never mentioned it to his former co-worker, but he kind of preferred the current lineup of singers.
Van went out to make sure his station was set to his perfectionist liking. Emmett had been terrified of the almost militant way Van demanded that fruit be cut and bottles be put into the wells, but he’d adjusted quickly. The system had worked for years, so why mess with perfection? Everything at the bar looked good. He waited for the first customers to descend into the bar.
As they eased into colder months, the first few hours were slower, even on weekends. But by nine, when the opening act took the stage, the house was three-quarters full. Time flew by in a flurry of making drinks and flirting. Flirting with less intent than usual, since Van wasn’t looking anymore. He’d somehow found two amazing guys who both seemed to want him.
Around nine-thirty a few hoots rose from the crowd, and Van didn’t have to strain to tell that Fading Daze had arrived, with Melody, Adrian, Lincoln, and Joshua attached to the group. Van caught Joshua’s gaze first. The wicked gleam in his dark eyes did funny things to Van’s belly. Benji was shorter than all ofthe other guys in the group, so it took a moment to find him sandwiched between Andy and Bobby.
They went to roost at one of the counter-height square tables in the rear. It didn’t surprise him at all when Benji and Joshua came to his side of the bar to wait for drinks, probably ordering for the group.
Van flew through the handful of customers in between him and his guys.
My guys? When did that start?
The moment you stuck your dick in Joshua, and then tried to swallow Benji’s tongue.
Such thoughts were not helping said dick behave.
“Miss me already?” Van asked when it was finally their turn.
“Missed you the moment you left,” Joshua said, barely loud enough to hear.
“You guys finish things up to satisfaction?”
Even in the dim light, he saw Benji’s blush. His enthusiastic nod made Van want to haul him over the bar and kiss him silly. Instead, he asked, “What are you guys drinking? Melody want her usual?”
“Yup,” Benji said. He held up his phone and started listing the order. “Put the tab under my name. We’ll settle with each other later.”
Van ran the drinks through in his head, then started preparing them in the most efficient way possible—not because he wanted to shoo his guys away, but because they were packed, and there were only two bartenders. Emmett paused to say hi on his way through with fresh-stemmed cherries for Sasha’s station.
“Fuck, I wish I was as good with my hands as you,” Joshua said while Van was mid-pour with a bottle of vodka.
He nearly fumbled the damned bottle, too. “Iwastrained in this, you know,” he drawled. “I was also raised on a farm, so I’d better be good with my hands.”
Now why the fuck did you let that slip out?
They were both watching him with identical surprised expressions, which made Van feel like some sort of science fair exhibit that suddenly went from interesting to enthralling. He’d have to explain himself at some point, but not across the bar.
