Marcus nods hesitantly, clearly out of his element. “I made an old-school list, after I got mad at Pinterest.”
“You got mad at Pinterest?”
“It just . . . wasn’t giving me the search results I wanted.” He flushes, like he’s embarrassed. “So then I called Sebastian, and he only cares about how the kitchen is designed, so I guess he’s sending you a very specific list next week.” He sighs, staring forlornly at the papers in front of him. “And then I called Norah, but she didn’t answer, so then I wrote this list, and it feels—I dunno. I’m good at logistics and numbers. Fuck, isn’t this why I’m paying you?”
“Whoa, hey, it’s fine.” I place a tentative hand on his forearm to stop him from spiraling. “Relax, big guy, and show me your list.”
Surprisingly, he doesn’t immediately react to my touch, but I still slide my hand back to the table, tapping my pink nails against the wood.
Marcus leans close, his spicy scent filling my nostrils, as he pulls out a white piece of paper. “I did get Sebastian to email me a few items from the notes that Norah took when she helped us in Vancouver. I forwarded that to you.”
I look over his list, squinting. His handwriting is terrible. “Is this a list of what you do like or don’t like?”
He gives me an annoyed glare.Fuck, riling him up is addictive.
“I just . . . don’t want it to feel fake,” he says finally.
“Tell me more, boss.”
He swallows, his throat moving in a very distracting way. “Remember what we talked about at our first meeting? When you said you wanted this to feel like the place people want to go after work? It was like you read my mind.” He pauses and looks out at the bay. “Especially in the fall and winter around here, you know? Everything is so damp and gray, and it gets dark at, like, four. I just want?—”
His whisky eyes find mine, and for a second, they drop to my lips. I feel something click between us. I nod encouragingly, trying to ignore the longing in his eyes that has my dick hardening. “You just want . . .”
“I-I just want a place where anyone is welcome. Where they feel safe. When the city outside is depressing and cold, I want this to be their warm, cozy space.”
I study him like I can peel away his layers with my eyes. The passion in his voice makes me feel like he’s talking about more than a pub.
“What?” he asks, his cheeks flushing beneath the scruff of his beard.
I shake my head, trying to dismiss the feeling. “Nothing, it’s just . . . for someone who started this place for his brother and wants to leave the business world behind, you seem very invested. It’s . . . surprising.”
Marcus chuckles, the sound deep and raspy, and my stomach does a weird flip. “What? You thought I was just a shallow businessman?”
I shrug. “A little.” He raises an eyebrow. “Okay. A lot.” I give him a coy smile. “But since we’re talking about stereotypes, you thought I was just a ditzy, dramatic?—”
“Twink,” he finishes for me. “I looked it up.”
“I was going to say brat.” Then I realize what he said, and I laugh. “You googled twink? Why?”
He looks uncomfortable. “I don’t like . . .” He pauses as if considering his response. “I like to feel in control, so if I don’t understand something, I learn about it.”
“What?Youlike to be in charge?” He gives me a dark look, and I wink. “So maybe you’re not totally shallow, but did you change your mind about me?”
Fuck, I’m flirting.
“Nope.” He pops thepin a snarky way that raises my hackles. “Youarea dramatic brat. You’re wrong about one thing, though.”
I prop my chin on my hand and narrow my eyes. “And what’s that?”
“I never thought you were ditzy. You’re smart, Jeremy. I don’t hire people who aren’t good at what they do.”
My face warms with the compliment, and I see Marcus’s eyes bounce between my cheeks, which are probably very red. The weird, prickly tension between us suddenly feels even more fraught, and I lean back, trying to get some air.
“So, circling back to the pub.”
After work,I meet Marion at a bar, determined to talk tosomeoneabout Marcus. I feel like I’m finally connecting with the grumpy asshole, which only makes him even more infuriatingly attractive, and I don’t really know what to do about it, if anything. I’ve honestly never been so horny in my life.
“I’ve never been so horny in my life,” I moan, dropping my face to my hands. Marion takes a sip of her drink and gives me a sympathetic look. “I literally had to hide a boner all day. Again. And it got so painful today that I finally had to jack off in the bathroom.” I peek up at her. “It wasmortifying.”
