Page 59 of All Tied Down

Gin & Porter is surprisingly packed for a Thursday night, most of the crowd drinking beer unlike the specialty drinks I’ve grown accustomed to in Chicago.

But I like it.

It’s the kind of place Isla and I would sneak off to before anyone really cared who we were.

I like the gray walls and the dark wood floors, the all-black furniture giving the place a moody vibe—which is great as it’s apparently a hotspot for local talent outside the city. It reminds me of a speakeasy minus the smoke and debauchery. There’s one near the office that Isla and I went to a couple of times, but that feels like a million years ago.

If you say so.

That one line still lives rent free in my head.

It’s the reason I told Garrett I was too tired to do anything last night after we reheated the food Theo brought over. I felt unsettled, like her inquiry was forcing me to examine things I have no business examining.

Especially now.

I don’t need any complications, and being actually married would be a complication. Things work right now because it’s short-term. I can make the sacrifices I need to and rearrange my schedule to accommodate whatever needs to happen, but commuting is a nightmare.

Even with Nico driving and us only spending a few days a week in Chicago, it’s exhausting going back and forth. I’m not only juggling my schedule but Garrett’s and Nico’s so he can be with his girls.

I need a break.

But do I need a break from Garrett or work? Last night had shaken the ground beneath my feet because last night all I wanted was to be wrapped up in Garrett.

I can’t be dependent on a man.

Maybe I don’t need a break so much as a distraction—a different one than Des apparently because Garrett and I couldn’t get anything out of him or Theo about their date.

Time for plan B.

“What do you want to drink?” Garrett asks, his breath hot on my skin and his hand possessively resting on my hip as he waits for my answer.

Perfect.

In my entire adult life, I don’t think a man has ever made my pulse race and my body yearn for their touch, but here I am in my thirties completely entranced by my temporary husband.

“Do they have gin or is it just in the name?”

He snorts, his expression boyish, and I swoon a little at the way his tight T-shirt hugs every dip and valley of muscle.

“It’s a bar; they have everything.”

“I’ve been to plenty of bars where the three taps provided a generous selection.” He quirks an eyebrow and I fist his shirt in my hands, arching into him as I smile. “I wasn’t always so fancy and I stopped being innocent a long time ago.”

“Baby, I could write songs about you all day long and not one of them would include the word innocent.”

“I think you want me to be insulted by that but I’m not. Although you know how I feel about the songwriting.”

“I do and never an insult,” he states, swaying us gently from side to side. I can’t hear the song but it doesn’t matter because I trust Garrett to take care of me. He’s in his element here—the music and the crowd. He may not be on stage, but I can feel energy almost vibrating off him.

“You’re too sexy for your own good right now.”

“Is that right?”

“Mm-hmm,” I confirm, rolling my hips, his eyes darkening when I do it again. “You better go get that drink before we make a scene.”

“Miss Andrews, I’ve been in this business a long time, and I’ve never wanted to fuck someone in the bathroom of a bar as much as I do right now.”

I can feel his hand slide down to cup my ass, jolting me tight against him and his growing erection. “To be clear, I am all for quick and dirty before the band starts.”