I hadn’t screwed upyet—at least, no one was dead—but I still felt like I was skating on thin ice.Guardian Angels Security was a fledgling company, and we’d just had our firstmajor expansion, and we couldn’t afford for things to gowrong.
Might’ve been smart tostick around long enough to find outwhythis wasn’t my usualclient. Too late now, and I wasn’t about to text Gray at the last minute toask.
Besides, if I stopped, I’d be late.
The black sign for Twinkleloomed high over the street, gold letters glinting in the sunlight. I wasn’t sure if theywere aiming for elegance, and I wasn’t sure if they’d hit it or not.
Fox would have known. Foxwould have had anopinion, and a wry insult to go along with it.
I smiled at the thought,pushing the door open and stepping into the darkened bar beyond.
A bartender with hot pinkhair caught my eye. I guessed that was the point of the hair.
“Come back at eight, honey,”she said. “We’re closed.”
“I, uh… I’m actually here tosee someone.”
A squeal from the other sideof the room drew my attention, and I turned just in time to see a skinny manwith gold glitter in his eyebrows racing toward me.
“Oh mygosh.” He grinned atme like a kid meeting Santa. “Are you Logan?”
I blinked.
“Umm. Yeah? Are you… Ashley?”
His smile widened. “I can be Ashleyif you want me to be,” he said.
“Get your paws off him,” anolder man with a strawberry-blond beard said, stepping up behind Glitter Browsand putting a hand on his shoulder. “This is Gabe. I’m Martin,” he said,offering his hand.
“He’shot,” Gabestage-whispered, looking up at Martin.
Yeah. Okay.
I understood what Gray hadmeant about this not being my usual kind of client.
“Leave the poor bodyguardalone,” Martin said. “You’re scaring him.”
“If he’s scared ofme, he won’t survive Ashley,”Gabe said. “Are those muscles real? Can I touch them?”
“Uh.”
Why not?
“Sure,” I said, offering himmy arm.
Gabe squeezed with morestrength than I would have given him credit for, and giggled.
Weird as this entireexperience was, I kind of liked him. It wasn’t as though I wasn’t usedto gay—or bi, or whatever—men telling me I was attractive.
The guys at work seemed tothink it was the number-one best way to tease me.
“Jesus, Gabe,” another man—wearinga red patent leather corset and enough eye makeup to last my sister ayear—appeared, striding across the room.
This had to be Ashley. Olderthan I was expecting, but…
“Peter,” he said, offeringhis hand.
Not Ashley. How many peoplelike this could therebein here?
