Tristan’s smug countenance teetered at Jarod’s admonishment. “Won’t happen again, boss.” He tipped his glass and drained it, then scraped his hands over the silvering hair at his temples, and got up. “I’ll go sit at the bar. Don’t want any blindspots.”
As he trudged away, I said, “Possessive of your nicknames,huh?”
Jarod side-eyed me, fingers stroking the stubby stem of his wineglass. His nails were all neatly trimmed and buffed, almost shinier than my own, which I’d painted a shimmerynude.
Between the radiator warming the right side of my body and the alcohol roiling through my veins, the heat became unbearable, and I shrugged out of the jacket. “Do you know what the menlook—”
“Put the jacket back on.” Jarod’s words were low andclipped.
Since his gaze was cemented to the group of five guys at the neighboring table, how had he even noticed me taking itoff?
“Je me la ferais bien, celle-là.”I’d doher.
I blinked at the man who’d spoken, more boy than man with his face full of pimples and sparse facialhair.
Jarod popped his cufflinks out of his cuffs and rolled up his shirtsleeves. “Feather, put the damn jacket back on,” he ground outagain.
As I flung it around my shoulders, the man-boy leaned back in his chair and smirked at Jarod.Creep.Jarod’s chair legs scuffed the wooden floors. Before he could get up, I clamped my fingers around hisforearm.
“Remember why we’re here,” I murmured, trying to soothe his temper.To improve your soul, not to soil it.“Don’t throw it away over some stupid remark. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’tmatter.”
Jarod’s nostrils flared. “It matters tome.”
For a Triple, he was awfully righteous. “Please,” I said again, and that last whispered plea dismantled his thirst to teach the creep alesson.
Chapter 23
Sensing trouble,or perhaps, privy to what the pimply-faced boy had said, Sasha rushed toward us, sweat glistening on his brow. “I’m so sorry, MonsieurAdler.”
He pivoted toward the table of five guys and requested they leave. Even though his voice was quiet, the tension inside was unmistakable. When one of the guys grumbled and told him he’d never come back and like hell if they’d pay for their meal, the knobs of Sasha’s spine strained against his gray cottonshirt.
Chair legs scraped, and then the pimply man-boy swiped the half-full wine bottle from the table before spitting at Sasha’s feet. The viscous glob landed right by the owner’s worn sneakers. I pressed my lips together. I’d miss certain humans; others, not somuch.
I felt something shift underneath my fingertips—the tendons in Jarod’s forearm. I’d forgotten I was still holding on to him. I snatched my fingers away just as the door swung shut behind the ill-manneredgroup.
“Keep the jacket on this time,” hesaid.
I yanked the jacket so tight it all but chokedme.
The room grew uncomfortably quiet, and the silence grew until it became an almost solid mass. Tristan was poised on the edge of a stool at the bar as though ready to leap off. It was only when Jarod relaxed that Tristan didtoo.
Sasha’s hands trembled as he piled the plates of the five men who’d left, and the tremors seemed to grow worse under his customers’scrutiny.
I started to get up to help him when Jarod said, “Don’t.”
I frowned, uncomprehending as to why I couldn’t help lighten Sasha’s load. I was about to protest and remind him that my calling was to help people, when he shot me a look so stern it pinned my thighs to the woodenseat.
“All of your meals are on us tonight!” Jarod’s voice sliced through the small room, amplified by the roughcast walls and low timber ceiling. “So, order that second bottle of wine or sample the entire menu for all Icare.”
The clink of silverware meddled with low gasps. Two glasses rattled on the platter Layla was setting down on the bar, and the dregs of wine inside one of the glasses splashed Tristan’s jacket sleeve. He muttered under his breath, and Layla turned crimson. She rushed behind the bar and returned with a wet towel. Whispering apologies that carried over the growing hubbub, she started to pat his jacket when Tristan grabbed the towel from her, removed his jacket, and finished thejob.
“Monsieur Adler, that’s too generous,” Sasha croaked, clutching the stack of plates against him. “You don’t have to do that.” Shiny brown sauce dripped off the doddering stack and down his bonywrist.
“Come to think of it, all your meals in this establishment will be comped for the next month if you bring Sasha and Layla business,” Jarodadded.
Sasha gaped at Jarod, clinging on to the plates so hard I worried they might shatter. “M-Merci.”
Jarod shrugged. “Don’t thank meyet.”
