Since I can’t spot his tall silhouette in the main room, I make my way to the back, where it’s calmer. Maybe he’s indulging in a game of pool.
My eyes instantly fall on his familiar face when I get there. He’s sitting on a low leather couch with his friend Eli by his side, and on the opposite side is another man—the one from behind the bar. A dozen bottles of whiskey are on the table between them, with glasses scattered around. Crap, he’s already in the middle of something. It was stupid to come and think he’d be available.
Since I don’t want to interrupt whatever is going on, I decide to discreetly retreat, send him a text asking if he wants to meet up, and then pretend I’m on my way if he says yes.
Just as I’m about to back away, his green gaze lifts to me. Something lights up in his eyes, and I discern satisfaction despite his surprise. Feeling like an idiot, I stand there while he says something to his friends and gets up to come to me.
“We have to stop meeting like this, red,” he says once he’s close enough, his smirk devilish and charming. His hand snakes around my waist, and he bends toward me. “Here to work on that list of yours?”
I nod, entranced by his aura, which fills the air surrounding us. He gives me a small, lopsided smile and lowers the rest of the way to press his lips on mine. The kiss is soft, almost chaste, and then he straightens up.
“But I can—I can go if you prefer,” I offer, my eyes fluttering to his friends. “I didn’t realize you’d be busy.”
“Nonsense. We’re just trying some whiskies to add to the bar’s selection. Do you want to join?”
“And meet your friends?” That sounds intimate and personal. I’m not entirely sure how sex arrangements work, but this might be off-limits.
“Gen!” someone calls from behind him. When I look, Eli is waving for me to join them, and the other guy—Killian, I think it was—is twisted around to watch me.
“They know about me?”
“Well, Eli knew about you before I did. And because he’s a little twat, Kill also knows.”
“And what do they know exactly?”
“That you’re the woman I’m currently fucking,” he nonchalantly explains. That’s crude but accurate, I suppose. “Come, love. We’ll have a few drinks and head out.”
His hand is still around my waist, and he uses it to pull me toward the couches. I’m not shy, nor do I mind meeting new people, but the circumstances are awkward, making me uncomfortable. Jake doesn’t seem to be though, and when we reach his business associates, he proceeds to introduce me.
“This is Gen. Love, this is Elijah and Killian.” The former smiles and gives me a wave, and the latter offers me a small nod. “Move over, mate.”
Eli immediately follows the command, joining Killian on the other couch while Jake and I sit side by side. I set my bag down, remove my short trench coat, and adjust the hem of my dress over my thighs. Maybe I subconsciously knew how the day would end when I dressed this morning because my outfit isn’t too out of place. I’m wearing a teal wrap dress with sleeves that reach just above my elbows.
My eyes fall on the man I don’t know, the other member of their trio, and I quickly study him. He also has tattoos slithering out of his black T-shirt, but not as many as Jake. His shoulder-length hair is a dark shade of auburn, its upper half tied into a bun at the back of his skull. He has a beard, darker than his hair, and it gives him a rough-around-the-edges look. Maybe it’s his stoic expression or the dark brown of his eyes, but he doesn’t seem as open or social as his two friends.
“It’s nice to officially meet you,” Eli says genuinely. “Jake’s told us so much about you.”
My attention switches to the man by my side, who’s throwing metaphorical daggers at his friend. Jake’s not supposed to disclose anything intimate about me to anyone, and I hope to God he didn’t. When he turns to me, I give him a disapproving look.
“Ignore him. Being a cunt is his favorite pastime.”
“He can’t help himself,” Killian adds caustically. It’s the first time I hear him talk, and I realize he’s undoubtedly Irish.
“Alright, alright. Jake didn’t say much,” Eli concedes. “But he said enough.”
Probably to make his friend stop talking, Jake grabs a bottle of whiskey and pours a finger into four glasses.
“Do you like whiskey?” he asks as he hands me one. “We’re trying new ones for the bar.”
“It’s not my favorite alcohol, but I indulge occasionally.”
“I can get you something else if you want.”
He’s about to stand up, so I mindlessly rest my hand on his muscular thigh to stop him. “No, it’s good. I’m a bit of a connoisseur, so I can help decide which one’s worth investing in.”
“Really?”
There’s a hint of amusement in his eyes, so I decide to satiate his curiosity. “My parents have these trays of alcohol all over the house, and whenever I wanted to get drunk as a teenager, I used to take the smallest sips from each bottle so they wouldn’t notice. I still do it whenever I visit. Needless to say, I became acquainted with many vodkas, whiskies, gins…”
