“It’s fine. Stop being so shocked; he’s great.” She laughs, dismissing my surprise. “Anyway, when Vaughan invited me to the opening tonight, he suggested I bring a friend. Of course I wanted it to be you. He asked one of his friends if they could come as well.”
“Great,” I mumble as we continue towards a large booth nestled in the shadows. Designed for privacy, the high-back seating curves around a polished wooden table. There is a clear view of the bar and dance floor, but the light above is deliberately low.
As we get closer, I can see the silhouette of a man leaning back casually in his seat. A tumbler of amber liquid rests in his hand on the table. Then I notice the large gold watch I have seen every day for the past four as he grips the steering wheel of his truck. My eyes travel up his arm until I meet his stormy grey-blue eyes.
“Beck, I believe you know my friend Ryan,” Vaughan says from behind me.
“I do,” I say slowly, watching him. His hair, always perfectly styled, is now tousled. Short stubble dusts his always clean-shaven face. He has rolled up his shirtsleeves to his elbows, revealing his corded forearms. And just like that, my attraction to him steps up another notch. That’s very inconvenient.
“And how do you know Ryan, Vaughan?” I ask, turning towards him.
April, who has tucked herself under his arm, is trying to suppress her giggle. “Hi, Ryan. What a surprise.”
There is no doubt in my mind that she knew all along he would be here. She couldn’t resist the urge to meddle in my nonexistent love life.
Ryan clearing his throat grabs my attention. He slightly shakes his head at his friend before shooting back what remains in his glass.
“Hi,” I say quietly as I slide into the seat beside Ryan as the happy couple sit closely together across from us.
As soon as we sit down, a server arrives at the table. “Good evening, welcome to The Riff. My name is Farrah, and I will be taking care of you this evening,” she says, smiling. “Mr. Sinclair has already ordered for the table. If you would like anything else, please let me know, and I will get it straightaway.”
She uncorks a bottle of Dom Perignon, fills four flutes, and places one in front of each of us. She then positions a bottle of Crown Royal XR in the centre of the table with neatly aligned glasses. An ice bucket sits beside the table to keep the champagne chilled and holds pop for mixed drinks. “Congratulations on your grand opening, Mr. Sinclair. I hope everyone has an enjoyable evening.”
“You didn’t tell me you were coming here tonight,” Ryan murmurs as Vaughan pours another three fingers of whiskey into his glass and slides it towards him.
Rolling my eyes, I say, “No, probably because you were miserable and barely said five words to me when you drove me to work this morning.”
He picked me up for the last time promptly at eight a.m. While I happily chatted away about the latest episode of the Canadian True Crime podcast that I am currently listening to, he responded with mm-hmms and grunts of acknowledgement. His usual charming early-morning self. He didn’t even suggest we stop at Maggie’s for coffee. It’s not like he asked me what I had planned for the weekend. In all fairness, I didn’t ask him either.
Turning back to Vaughan, I ask, “So, how did you say you know Ryan?” Bubbles from the champagne tickle my nose as I take the first sip. This isn’t my first choice of alcohol—I’d prefer a margarita or a cold beer—but I’m a guest and beggars can’t be choosers.
“He didn’t,” Ryan grumbles. His strong thigh brushes against mine as he leans farther back into his seat.
“Oh, we go way back. We attended the same boarding school from what was it, fourth grade?” Vaughan looks to Ryan for confirmation.
“Yeah,” Ryan agrees, running his palm across his jaw and chin.
“Boarding school? I didn’t know you went to boarding school,” I say to Ryan, who is staring into his glass. “Tell us about that. You were a straight-A student, weren’t you? Were you there through high school? Was it co-ed?” I ask in rapid-fire. I can’t imagine Ryan as a teenager.
“Until grade twelve graduation, but he was no straight-A student. Sometimes I’m surprised that either of us graduated high school at all.” Vaughan snickers, answering for him. “Theschool was co-ed, but not the dorms, unfortunately. It didn’t stop us though, did it, buddy?”
“Really?” I can’t imagine him breaking rules. Turning my head to look at Ryan, I watch his jaw clench as he stares silently into his glass of amber liquid.
“Don’t let him fool you.” Vaughan chuckles, taking a generous sip of champagne. “He knows how to have a good time. He hasn’t always been this strait-laced.”
“Vaughan,” Ryan growls out a warning as his thumb taps out a steady rhythm on the side of his tumbler.
Ignoring him, Vaughan continues with his story. “Do you remember when you broke into Dan’s cottage and threw a party while he and his family were out of the country?” Looking back and forth between April and me, he continues, “He sent the fucker pictures of us drinking his father’s alcohol and getting high in his hot tub. The house got totally trashed. I can’t even guess how many people showed up.”
“Jesus, how much trouble did you get into?” I ask in disbelief. “Did they press charges?”
“Nah, by the time that happened, our parents were used to cleaning up our messes. His dad took care of it.”
“For real? I’m having a hard time wrapping my mind around this.”
“Oh, I could tell you lots of stories from our wilder days.”
“Please don’t,” Ryan mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose.
