“Fuck,” Evan groaned.
“Good news is, my friend Chad here said it was okay for us to dance on the bar. Once. Itisa bachelor party and all.”
Brantley glanced at Chad, the bartender who’d been taking care of them since they arrived. He nodded as he dried a glass, his eyes as wide as his smile.
“Fine,” Evan said. “Hold my beer.”
Slade laughed, taking his glass.
Before Cal could even get on the bar stool, Evan was up on the bar, glaring down at them.
Brantley peered around. The bar wasn’t busy. Certainly not for a Saturday night, but there were quite a few people. And just as he expected, most of them pulled out their cell phones so they could record the action.
Baz was front and center, his camera aimed directly at them as Cal nodded to the bartender.
Evan stood still for a moment as the song came on. Griffin and Slade nearly knocked each other down.
“Harlem Shake,” Reese said from beside him, clearly realizing Brantley had no idea what the hell this was.
On the plus side, the song was so jacked up it didn’t require Evan to have any rhythm. Since he didn’t anyway, he didn’t look as stupid as he could have.
Then again, maybe that was the alcohol talking because he looked pretty damn stupid.
Everyone in the bar, including Chad, the bartender, cheered them on. As usual, Cal stole the show. For as long as Brantley could remember, his youngest brother loved being the center of attention. Maybe because he was the youngest of seven? He honestly didn’t know.
The song seemed to go on forever, but Evan and Cal stuck with it. Evan shook his hips and flung his arms. He looked like he was swatting away a bee rather than attempting to dance, but he gave it his best effort.
Finally, the song ended, and Evan hopped down from the bar, spinning around to look at Cal when he joined him.
“Your taste in music sucks.”
Cal laughed. “I told Chad to pick out the song. I told him you were old, so to go with somethin’ easy.”
Evan shook his head while the rest of the group laughed.
“What do you think?” Reese asked Z. “Do they get the points?”
“I say we double ’em. That was pretty damn impressive.”
Reese’s brother was barely keeping his eyes open. Like everyone else, he’d had plenty to drink, but he was slowing down fast.
“Thanks for lettin’ these idiots do that,” Brantley told the bartender as he pulled a bill out of his wallet. “This is for you.”
Chad stared at the one-hundred-dollar bill and grinned. “Anytime, man.”
“What do y’all say we take this party up to the room?” Reese suggested.
Brantley nodded. It was almost midnight, and they still had another day of it. Plus, he wasn’t sure he was up to seeing whether these guys could top that. He knew for a fact they would try, given half a chance.
Chapter Twelve
“All right. Time for the truth,” Brantleysaid, his tone casual although his words were definitely slurred.
Atticus had never seen Brantley drunk before. Or Reese. And both appeared to be feeling no pain at the moment.
And fine. Atticus wasn’t either. Certainly not now, as they sat on the enormous hotel balcony that ran the length of two of their suites. Someone had built this thing with outdoor living in mind, that was for damn sure. There were more couches and chairs out here than in a Rooms To Go showroom. He could probably sleep out here if he had to.
“How was training?” Brantley asked Atticus. “And be honest.”
