I snorted again. “A lot, but a man has needs. Not everyone has a sweet Sheila at home like you to take care of them.”
“You could if you tried. You’re not gonna find him on one of those sex apps.”
I ran my finger through the condensation on my glass. “I know,” I muttered.
Owen was right, but it was all I could handle at the moment. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, the only relationship of sorts I’d ever had was with Leland. Stupidly, I thought he might be the one until he married the woman he allegedly got pregnant a year ago. I wasn’t convinced the kid was his, and I don’t think he was either.
“You going to finally marry her, O?”
His expression softened as he nodded. “Yeah, and I want you to stand up with me when I do.”
Placing my hand on his shoulder, I gave my friend a genuine smile. “I’d be honored. Just hope I’m not in South America when it’s time.”
We joked around and ordered some food to quell the alcohol. My stomach growled as Mickie, the bartender, placed our plates with a thick burger and crispy chips in front of us. Grabbing a few, I stuffed them into my mouth.
I wish life could be simple, but that wasn’t how it worked for me. A few days later, my luck took a turn for the better.
Owen and I were once again holding down the stools at TCK when an unfamiliar man waltzed in and stood by the bar. We knew all the regulars, so having someone new here was a rarity. I gave him a cursory glance but didn’t pay much attention to him until he took the stool one down from mine, then leaned over to ask a question.
“Excuse me. I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’m looking for Colin Kearney. Is that you, by chance?”
I turned my head to take in the American sitting beside me. He was cute in a puppy dog kinda way, but didn’t set off my gaydar.
“Yeah, that’s me. What can I do for ya?”
I gave him my flirty smile because why not? If he were straight, I was just being friendly. Maybe he was here for an autograph.
“I’ve been trying to find you. I went by the club office, and they said you might be here.”
I’m always here.
Cutting my eyes to Owen, he seemed surprised. Turning back to the guy, I wiped my mouth and gave him my attention.
“Yeah? And what would a Yank like yourself be needing with me? An autograph, maybe?”
I elbowed Owen. “Give me a pen, would ya?”
Owen sputtered. “I’m not yer secretary. Get your own damn pen.”
The American laughed, then raised his hand to Mickie and pointed at my glass. “Can I have one of those, please?”
Mick nodded and turned away to pull the beer. “I’m not here for an autograph. But I am here to talk to you.”
My brows shot into my hair. “Do we know each other?”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I’m Mark Henderson. Nice to meet you.”
He extended his hand to shake mine. Nice, solid firm handshake and zero tingles.
“You too.” I was confused. “If ya don’t want an autograph, then what do you want with me?”
He smiled, but still not gaydar triggering.
“My brother sent me to talk to you about a job.”
Intrigued, I peered at him. “And who is your brother? And what kind of work are we talking about?”
He smiled as Mickie set his pint in front of him. I waited as he took a healthy swallow, then placed it on the bar.
